The change of venue for the Melbourne Laneway was a change for the better; there was plenty of space, and the stages, in particular the River Stage amphitheatre overlooking the river looked great and were easily accessed, avoiding the bottlenecking of crowds which was such a problem last year. However, for the second year in a row logistical screw-ups marred what was otherwise a fantastic Laneway Festival.
It was such a pity because the music was excellent from start to finish. It was the perfect festival to wander, with delicious morsels of music being served up (unlike the food – for a festival with thousands of people attending, providing only three food stalls was a massive oversight, with punters forced to wait for up to an hour and a half for for and miss many acts). The day had started with a disappointing note with the news that headliners Echo & The Bunnymen had cancelled, after lead singer Ian McCulloch missed his flight from London. But the sun was shining though and there was enough quality music on the bill to entertain the crowd packing the Footscray Community Arts Centre.
The first few hours had a distinctly patriotic feel, with some of the best young Australian bands showcasing their wares. The pick of the bunch were Melbourne two piece Kid Sam and the avant-goth girls of Bridezilla.
Kid Sam, made up of cousins Kishore and Kieran Ryan have quietly been making waves in the wake of their self-titled LP, and they were the perfect band to get things started. It’s hard to put your finger on but the Kieran’s soft tenor, his understated guitarwork and Kishore’s inventive rhythms are a subtly powerful combination, as seen on standout tracks like the murder ballad Sunday Bus or the slow burning Landslide. There were plenty of bands louder at Laneway, but few as affecting.
Bridezilla were a completely different story. Where Kid Sam were smooth, Bridezilla were spiky. Dressed in funereal black, the Sydney five piece showed why they are one of the most talked about young acts on the Australian music scene. A violin, a saxophone and an electric guitar aren’t the normal components of good music, but then Bridezilla are not a normal band. Their music is taut, at times unsettling, but consistently interesting. In Holiday Sidewinder they posses a mesmerising frontwoman, a gyrating, rasping chanteuse who’s assured delivery belies her young age. This band is still just beginning, and judging by the volume of the applause they received at the end of their set, we will be hearing a lot of this talented fivesome over the next few years.
As the sun reached its zenith, so did the music and the crowd had to make the first of many tricky choices as to which band to see. On one stage were Mumford & Sons fresh from their Triple J victory, while on the picturesque River Stage was the fractured American songsmith Daniel Johnston. While most chose the former I figured that there’s not going to be many opportunities to see Daniel Johnston live, and I made the right choice. While Mumford & Sons’ set was cut short by a faulty PA (technical issues also affected the Black Lips set later in the evening), Johnston’s was exactly the same as the weather; bright, sunny and completely heart warming. So much has been written about his battles with schizophrenia and depression that it’s easy to forget just how fun his music can be. After wiping away the cobwebs with a few sparkling, maniacally strummed numbers (the wonderful, poignant Living Life was the pick of the bunch), he was joined by a four piece band to become the most nervous, strangest frontman I’ve ever seen. His hand wobbled uncontrollably, he had to walk off stage every few songs to have a drink of water and he never took his eyes off his binder book of songs, but somehow he absolutely rocked. A backing band gave his songs the kind of depth that was never present on his recorded output, and perfectly highlighted his simple pop hooks and achingly personal lyrics. This guy has been making amazing music for thirty years now and this is his first visit to Australia, and I for one am glad that I saw it.
By four o’clock the temperature was somewhere in the thirties and the sweat had well and truly begun to pour so it was lucky that British three piece The xx came to cool things down. Since their stunning debut last year, there’s been a bee hive full of buzz about this band, and man does their honey taste good. There is a slinking sexiness to their songs, in the smooth bass lines and even smoother voice of Oliver Sim, in the minimalistic riffs of Romy Madley Croft. It’s music to kiss girls (or boys) to, and many a heart was pounding during the plainly named Intro or the slowly shuffling Night Time. They’ve even made duets cool too, trading verses and choruses like musical caresses, like on lead single VCR. The end of their set was like a farewell to a lover and as they finished everyone gave a collective sigh, knowing that they were unlikely to hear or see anything that cool for a long time to come.
As the sun mercifully set, the crowd made their way to the Main Stage for the Dirty Three and my ears are still ringing from their set. Nobody can create a mood like quite like these guys. Warren Ellis’ violin yelps, Mick Turner’s guitar groans and Jim White’s cymbals crash in a visceral swirling gut punch of sound. It is dark, loud, physical stuff, each piece a meticulously constructed, brilliantly executed soundscape, from the maniacal pizzicato of The Zither Player to the dirtiest of dirges Indian Love Song. For an instrumental band, they convey so much emotion, they create an atmosphere completely, though it’s hard to convey in words. My only suggestion would be to make sure you see them the next time they play live, there’s nothing quite like it.
By the time Florence and The Machine came on most of the crowd looked dead on their feet. They were hot and tired and hungry but it was a credit to this precocious young Brit that she managed to get their feet moving again. Dressed in shimmering green sequins, the flame haired Florence took her place as the queen of indie pop with a captivating set. She has a warbling octave destroying voice, reminiscent of Kate Bush. Like Mrs. Bush she has the ability to craft melodic, yet unexpected pop ballads, with breakout single Kiss With A Fist and the catchy Dog Days Are Over providing an invigorating way to finish the day. (Though the lack of any additional train services was soon to leave thousands of punters complaining bitterly at Footscray station.)
I’m a big fan of this festival. I’m a big fan of its ability to attract world class acts. I’m a big fan of a festival put on in the middle of a city. I just think that the organisation needs to be better, and while the problems were nowhere near as bad as last year, there are still issues. They’ve got the music on lock, there’s no doubt about that, and with a little more planning Laneway has the potential to be an amazing experience, rather than a pretty good one, and I’m excited for how it will turn out next year. Bring on 2011.
to listen to their music now on 
