Kerser Was A 'Mistake'

22 April 2015 | 2:59 pm | Liz Giuffre

Founding organiser Gary Grant reveals why last year failed.

The live music festival is a strange beast. Just when you think there’s a rule (must be outside; must be in summer; must have an international megastar; must be for old kids/young kids/indie kids, etc), a festival seems to pop up to break those rules and redefines things. 

Ten years ago Come Together began as a festival that seemed to adhere to, and break, the best of the classic rules. At a spectacular location (Sydney’s Luna Park) and with a wide variety of acts, it also sought to keep tickets low and audiences young (ish). Come Together was not just an iconic piece of advice from four long haired loons from Liverpool, but an ideology to get people in love with the live music experience.

“The Big Top (in Luna Park) had been open less than a year, and Come Together was devised as a way to put on something to show the venue off as a great rock’n’roll venue,” recalls founding organiser Gary Grant. “In that year [2005] we did two shows – one in April, one in September – and I think Little Birdy were the headliners, with Butterfingers. And I think on that same bill, way down the bill, were little bands like The Presets, Midnight Juggernauts, and I think that same year The Jezabels either opened or were second band on.”

Grant’s current position as General Manager of Entertainment and Events at The Big Top unsurprisingly sees him gush proudly about his venue. But it doesn’t take much to see that his enthusiasm isn’t just for getting bodies in a room and bucks over the bar. His enthusiasm for the tunes, and industry they belong to, comes across with an infectiousness similar to Molly Meldrum’s ‘do yourself a favour’ and Michael Chugg’s frequent and colourful swears. They’ve a job to do, but getting to do it while choosing some great music to show off to new audiences makes it all the better. 

“So that was what the festival started as. Then it just became this thing from my background; you know, from management of acts. And I think it’s really important for under-eighteens to be able to get at the bands. Where Homebakes and Big Day Outs and other things like that, whilst not strictly over-eighteen, they weren’t always where parents would let kids go, whereas Come Together at Luna Park was always, ‘Yes, you’re allowed to go to that.’ And subsequently from there, we moved it to the long weekend in June because the politics came into play. If you were playing Come Together in September you weren’t allowed to play Homebake in December, all that kind of stuff, and that’s where it’s been since 2005.”

Grant’s observations of changes in the back-end of live music are interesting, the kind of stuff that doesn’t often make it to the centre stage. He’s particularly open about how negotiations between artists and venues happen, putting any apparent ‘crisis’ in the festival scene squarely down to a need for those in the middle to rethink their strategies. “We’ve also gone through the era of festivals, which was also nearly the end of Come Together. Because the agents were chasing me for their huge festival fees, and that’s fine if you’re on a football field with 20,000 capacity, but Come Together is in the middle of winter, inside, rain, hail or shine, with a limited legal capacity. And it was always a battle with the agents based on the absurd amount of money that they were chasing. So it was then when we thought ‘something has to change.’”

"Kerser’s fans hate everyone, and all the other fans hate Kerser – it was oil and water."



The ‘change’ was led by watching fans and their reactions, in particular patterns of younger audiences really following their noses for new noise. “In 2010, an act called Bliss N Eso hit the stage,” Grant laughs, “And I saw what happened when they came out and the kids went crazy. And I was like, ‘That’s it, I’m going all hip hop.’ And subsequently the next year was Drapht followed by 360 and on and on. And the hip kids and the whole hip hop scene had been fantastic for us.”

Targeting one genre has had its risks, however. Come Together did meet a near end last year after an apparent implosion of that community, what Grant describes as an unforseen battle, but also the type of thing that just sometimes happens. “Last year I made the mistake of putting Kerser on the bill with other acts and I didn’t realise – as much as I like what Kerser does – how polarised it caused the fans to be. Kerser’s fans hate everyone, and all the other fans hate Kerser – it was oil and water.” Using that Molly ‘favour’ energy and Chuggie boldness, he continues. “I just said, ‘It’s all hip hop,’ but subsequently there was a lot of activity, and mostly from fans saying ‘We’re not coming.’ So we pulled the plug last year.”

While there have always been rivalries in music (from Elvis vs Sinatra to The Beatles vs the Stones, and so it goes), there did seem to be something of a perfect storm last year. “I just think Kerser is a unique artist. When he plays he has a big following, but they’re only into him and nothing else it seems and so it was just the mix of that and other artists, which was a shame because I thought it was a great line-up, but it was just the fans saying ‘I don’t like him’ and ‘we don’t like them’. Anyway, that’s not the first time it’s happened, and it probably won’t be the last for promoters around the place.”

It must have been tempting to pull the plug altogether after having to cancel so late in the day (and, apparently, misreading the audience), but there was no keeping this lot down. The 2015 line-up goes back to a broader genre mix, including Seth Sentry, Ball Park Music and SAFIA, as well as Thundamentals and Horrorshow. “I think after last year we thought ‘let’s come back and either do something really special, or not do it.’ But it was agreed that we think it’s an important thing… It’s an important thing, give the young bands and young fans a chance.

“We think this Come Together thing is so important because it’s given so many people the opportunity to get on the big stage and to learn their trade before they go off and play the Splendours and the other really big festivals. And I’m really proud of the fact that we’ve had bands in their early stages, given them a chance to learn their trade.” 

Grant maintains a commitment to the section of the audience he feels is often forgotten too – not just to let young people out for a day, but to build bedroom music nerds into lifelong gig-going grownups. “We’re just hanging in there trying to retain Come Together, largely because under-eighteens are allowed to come here and I think that’s really important to let them build their bases – as fans and musicians.” 

If there are lessons to be learned from the apparent downturn in festivals it’s that the industry has to keep ahead of the game; it has to remain committed to developing the audience and artist’s love of the experience, rather than squabbling in amongst itself.

“The festival wheel has turned and the Laneways and things like that are where it’s gone rather than the big outdoor ones with acts that the fans probably may have seen. Or, in fact, travelling up to beautiful Splendour sites, which seems to work. But I’m talking about when Big Day Out and Homebake were humming, and then agents were hitting up promoters and asking for these festival fees, then thinking that their job’s done,” says Grant. “I think now that the agents have to reassess that as the big festivals seem to fall aside – Homebake gone, Big Day Out gone – and think about how to break artists to the scene. And I think Come Together is a great way to do it. Come and play to a smaller group of enthusiastic fans – a lot of whom who are under eighteen – and increase the fanbase that way.”

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