A festival on a Monday: interesting concept that. Not a public holiday Monday either… a normal Monday. People 18 years and over normally have to work on a day like that don’t they? Judging by the – œsold out’ sign on the ticket booth at Members Equity Stadium three days ago; apparently not. There were swarms of people milling around Perth Glory’s home ground as soon as the Raggamuffin gates opened at 4pm. By 5pm the swarms were more like hives and the entrance line was moving at stoner’s pace. This was quite apt of course but more frustrating than funny.

Besides the inefficiency of entering the festival and the gargantuan lines to the toilets and bar early on, problems which seem to dog Raggamuffin every year, Members Equity provided a really decent setup. The stage was facing the grandstand on the Bulwer St side of the stadium, so people could either sit and watch from there or head to the d-floor and defy the hopeless no smoking signs. The view was perfect from the grandstand and the stage was close enough to warrant sitting there, carefree, for the whole gig.

Carefree… those two syllables perfectly summed up the mood that swept over the crowd from when House of Shem stepped on stage at 4:05 to when Shaggy exited at 10:30 (thank god he did). Even the security guards were noticeabley less tyrannical, shrugging their shoulders at people jumping the fence into the wristband-only dance floor and politely telling punters to wait until it was dark before they started smoking. The festival loved them for it.

The line up of bands was the most reggaefied one yet, bar a couple which left you wondering what was in Andrew McManus’s bong water when he included them on the bill. Sean Kingston’s inclusion was strange considering he’s more of a Westfield shopping centre artist than a reggae one. And Shaggy, while entertaining, was never going to be any different to what he was the year before. In fact he was worse this time, driven by the fact his horniness on the night would have seemingly rivalled a rabbit who had been up all night eating a cocktail of dexies and Viagra. He actually acknowledged the ladies in the house and had more sexual innuendo in his banter than an entire season’s worth of – œthe Todd’ quotes from Scrubs. Still his dj did drop Land Down Under which the Australia Day eve crowd was stoked on and hearing the blissful Summertime again equalled a whole lotta lovin’. He shouldn’t have closed the festival though, no sir.

Blue King Brown only had 30 minutes to play, but they managed to showcase the increasingly worldly direction their music is taking. Plenty of afro-beats, passionate Natalie Pa’apa’a activism and an emotional cheer for the band’s Haitian-born backing singer, Nadee, accented their set. Steel Pulse were classic reggae in its most traditional form. Traditional as far as popular reggae goes anyway. Having been around for more than 30 years they knew what they were doing and rasta flags were flying all over the stadium in respect of their vintage vibe. Those unfamiliar with the group would never have guessed they hailed from cool and cloudy Birmingham, but then again reggae acts are usually a multi-national affair so where they’re from makes no difference.

That is of course unless their surname is Marley; then making judgements based on their roots is unavoidable. It’s a tough name to live up to and Ziggy Marley disappointed people last year because of the high expectations placed on his bloodline. This year though, Julian Marley nailed it. He was warm and engaging with the crowd and relaxed them to the point where they really did feel like the – œbrothers’ and – œsisters’ he was referring to them as. Exactly what people expect from a Marley. The – œerb also helped. The obligatory tribute to his Dad came in the form of Exodus, as the tightly packed party skanked the sun down.

In the gap between Marley and Sly and Robbie a recorded message from Wyclef aired, apologising for his absence. It was unedited and he could be heard carefully mulling over his choice of words. It was awesome to hear his consideration for what he was saying and he sounded sincerely sorry he couldn’t make it. His effort to put together the message in such a tough time for him was met with a mighty roar of appreciation and confirmed him as one legendary icon of pop-reggae.

Sly and Robbie continued the classic reggae feel of the line up with the most brass and bass-heavy mix of the day. With a mostly instrumental sound which bordered on straight dub at times, it was mood music which suited the ominous festival dusk-calm. They were masters of judging the crowd’s tempo and pushed it up a notch with each track, preparing the crowd for the irrepressible Ms Lauryn Hill.

She’s a mysterious cat to say the least. Absolutely massive in the 90s and then suddenly hardly spoken of, except for a certain media shitstorm where she was falsely portrayed as a white-hater. Then came Eminem’s Bad Influence line- - œscarier than a white journalist in a room with Lauryn Hill’ and her resulting public image was not a warm one.

Her band appeared first and she was packing some serious power in her entourage. Three back up singers, two drummers, a dj, a stack of bass quads and this was only half the picture. They ran through a Bob Marley medley which left everyone wishing all bands sound checked with Marley sing-a-longs. She took a long while to arrive and there may have been the slightest hint of worry that she was never going to. When she finally did, it was electrifying. Any lasting images in people’s minds of the urban high school girl she played on Sister Act 2 were shattered as she strode out looking like THE hip hop diva of all time. Her public performances have been unpredictable and erratic in recent years but this one was all for the people. “Lets give the people what they want” she told the dj as she made him redo an intro she wasn’t happy with. She expected the absolute best out of her band and made it known when she thought they could lift.

She held off rapping in the early stages and warmed into the set with the soulful harmonising she’s renowned for. When she did finally unleash her multi-syllabic bursts of poetry though, the crowd was awe-struck. Her quick-fire style was something that is rarely heard these days and it’s hard to understand why because it just sounded so damn good. She roared through her assailing Final Hour and did a two part version of The Fugees’ Ready or Not. The seminal track was a live remix in its beginnings before Hill told her band to cut it and ordered the dj to play the original radio production. The crowd rolled it up and smoked it with glee. She called upon Marley to join her for a Turn The Lights Down Low cover but this was about as low as her voltage got.

Her – œpeople’s set’ was affirmed when she left it up to the crowd to decide whether she closed with Doo Wop (That Thing) or Killing Me Softly. The Roberta Flack original got the most raucous support and it didn’t have Wyclef adding his notorious – œone time/two time’ lines but that didn’t matter. Everyone just loved the fact they were hearing the song that made their Saturday morning exciting once. Hill looked like she was having the time of her life up there so perhaps she’ll be back on the radio soon; doing what she was born to do.

And so that was Raggamuffin 2010. There’s going to be some serious roaches left over for the Glory boys to contend with, but hopefully it might make their game more exciting. This can all be best rounded off by Wyclef:

“I look forward to seeing you for the Raggamuffin tour in 2011. I love the reggae music.”