Groovin’ The Moo @ Hay Park,Bunbury (15/05/10)

Wed 19th May, 2010 in Gig Reviews

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Bunbury’s inaugural edition of Groovin’ the Moo, which now visits five of the seven states, stamped itself as a first-grade player on WA’s festival circuit. With two conjoined outdoor stages and a third, tented stage, it’s not as big as the heavyweights, but excellent facilities, well- organised staff, commonsensical crowd control and a seamless sequence of Aussie and international acts impressed all who braved the southern chill.

Given the hour, a predictably small crowd witnessed the opening act on the Triple J stage. Those who did make the effort saw local boys Silver Lizard serve up a steaming brunch of old-school punk drizzled with ball-sweat. These boys had clearly done a few burnouts around the block; they were coated in hair and more ink than the Usborne Illustrated Bible and, most importantly, as tight as a wheel lug.

A short while later the Myspace stage was opened by Perth’s The Scotch of St. James. With a confidence that would make any jewel merchant proud, the foursome unfurled a striking set of polished rock. The quartet is already a reputable recording band here in the West, but they revealed another string to their bow by producing a crisp live act. It’s a shame there weren’t more people to bear witness.

A small crowd of faithful fans gathered to swoon in the sounds of The Words. Blending strummed acoustic guitar and crooning electric solos, the sunglass-wearing quartet romped their way through a series of pleasant ballads in the key of E-motion.

The sunlight was too weak to provide warmth but somehow was still managing to burn skin, but there was welcome relief in the Moolin Rouge tent where electro duet Voltaire Twins were performing. An amnesiac could be forgiven for thinking they’d stumbled into 1982, for this group is the embodiment of the recent electro revival. The brother/sister act has the look and the sound to be the next 80s powerhouse (albeit some twenty-five years late) however, they’ll need to do something about their stage presence – or lack thereof – if they’re to reach such lofty heights. The male twin’s attempts at crowd-conversation, which included a barely audible “Are you enjoying your Groovin’ the Moo? It’s nice out here,” were spectacularly lame. Even more annoying was the fact that they introduced themselves after every song. Country people can read programs too kids!

Back outside, Harlequin League did their best to create a roiling set of angsty alt-rock but failed miserably. Only God knows whether something was wrong with the sound production or it was just their sound, but whatever the reason, it wasn’t a nice sound. Multiple contrived ‘rock ‘n roll’ stunts, including the failed attempt to dismantle the synth rack at the end of the set and a failed attempt to create sustain by leaning a guitar against its speaker, only added to the shame. Nevertheless, a small hall’s worth of eager fans clustered at the fence and closer Again And Again was met with an ecstatic response.

Punters were flowing through the gates now and Aussie rappers Muph & Plutonic reeled in a good many with some enthusiastic crowd interaction. Pointed hands were bouncing, jaunty fans were flouncing and the vibe was growing stronger with each word Muph was announcing. Despite the oldies in the crowd shaking their heads in puzzlement, it was clear that Aussie hip-hop has never had it better.

Another trip back to the tent revealed the surprising best-on-ground: Jonathan Boulet. The cheery Sydneysider and his merry band had conjured an exciting energy that was tangible the moment you stepped into the room. Sadly, the set was almost over by the time this reviewer arrived, but the last two songs Continue Calling and A Community Service Announcement were enough to leave a lasting impression. Blending pulsating tribal beats, beautifully layered vocal harmonies and an all-pervading optimism, this act is one to look out for.

A rambunctious and well-crafted set from crowd darlings Kisschasy had punters grinning from ear to ear, and Bunbury was now abuzz. One would have thought this was the perfect scenario for the folksy Lisa Mitchell to captivate the audience, but she managed to kill the vibe; first by lamenting the band’s recent lack of sleep, then by performing her first three tracks with lifeless apathy. A gross oversight in stage production, whereby the backdrop LED screen started flickering with ads in the middle of the set, only dampened the already soggy mood. Thankfully things picked up when Mitchell played a couple of her more uptempo songs, Neopolitan Dreams earning a particularly rapturous response.

British India brought the hi-octane urban vigour they’re known for and soon had the tightly-packed crowd in a vertical pulse. A cover of Nirvana’s Lithium highlighted an expertly varied set with plenty of tempo and timbre changes but undeviating, infectious energy.

Miami Horror started an outdoor dance party with their blend of feel-good 80s electro and classic rock ‘n’ roll on-stage antics. Despite the dancy, synth-driven sounds the front man proved he could kick it with the rockers with some behind-the-head guitar playing and a daredevil climb up the scaffolding. Hit single Sometimes was the pick of the tracks, and for some reason, inspired a massive number of people to hoist a friend onto their shoulders.

Spoon eased the crowd back down with a mellow opening to their set, inadvertently reducing themselves to mere background music, as conversations within the crowd rose to a roar. As the sun, and the conversations, gradually faded back down, the stage-lights warmed to mimic a summer sunset and this coincided with a lift in Britt Daniels’ energy levels. The Underdog and You Got Yr. Cherry Bomb triggered spot-fire dances, showing that Spoon can get the party started when they wanna.

It’s amazing which bands endure and which fall by the wayside, and judging by the reception given to shadowy-faced Grinspoon they have somehow made it into the former camp. The audience lapped up such hits as Thrills, Kills and Sunday Thrills, Chemical Heart and More Than You Are, giving ‘The Spoon’ easily the most vocal reception of the night. Grinspoon are the Kon-Tiki of Aussie rock. Despite all the odds stacked against them – Phil Jamieson’s uncoordinated dancing and painfully contrived image; plain, predictable songs; cliché-riddled lyrics – they’ve made it to their destination.

As drizzle started to fall, Empire of the Sun treated their fans to a sensory overload of absurd proportions. Sporting an enormous head-piece, samurai robe and gold chest-plate, and supported by four shape-shifting dancers, a crested drummer and a huge, well-utilised LED backdrop, the other-worldly Luke Steele jerked and dramatised his way through a catalogue of songs that, whilst catchy at times, didn’t live up to the visual spectacle. The music was not the main focus though, and even those who were shaking their heads at Steele’s ludicrous brainchild couldn’t help but watch in wonder.

It was clear that the majority of the festival-goers were there to see Vampire Weekend. Something of a white man’s reggae band, the New Yorkers bounced their way through crowd favourites such as (One) Blake’s Got A New Face and A-Punk. Paul Simon’s classic album Graceland sprang to mind with the light, optimistic beats and front man Ezra Koenig’s boyish vocals – a recipe that proved conducive to power-smiles and group jumping.
While a vast portion of the crowd departed at this point, those who stuck around to watch veteran trio Silverchair could only have been disappointed if their mind was on the ongoing FA Cup final. Festival-goers who’ve seen ‘The Chair’ before may know that they are a temperamental act capable of providing either immense satisfaction or bitter disappointment. On this occasion they brought their A-game.

Led by the eccentric Daniel Johns, they embarked on a voyage through their fourteen-year career to date. Two brand new songs were bafflingly different to anything they’ve done in the past, a simple electro-style beat, organ-like guitar effects and questionable lyrics juxtaposing the older, more rockin’ tracks. Through it all, however, maligned front man Johns was electric. Having now spent almost half his life in the spotlight, he has become a contortion of contradictions; rugged yet effeminate, gifted yet ungrateful, a surly prankster who delighted in asking the crowd to cry chants impossible to replicate. Love him or hate him, Johns is a genius; albeit a misguided one. As angry and spoilt as he may seem, it’s clear that he yearns to be loved. Never was this more apparent than when he stopped mid-way through final track Freak to intervene in an altercation between a bouncer and a troublesome mosher, earning, for a moment, the collective admiration of all who stood before him.

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