Live Review: Future Music Festival

When it was announced that Future Music Festival Brisbane was returning to Doomben Racecourse, after a year’s sojourn at the more expansive concrete plains of the RNA Showgrounds, it seemed kinda incredulous that it was because of “high demand for tickets”.

However, the ball don’t lie, as they say – or in this case, the bodies on the ground. We arrive early afternoon to a festival alive, and the electric blue skyline is making all those mud-trodden Futures of years past seem like a lifetime ago.

The Gorgon City duo get the early groove going with a set that mixes some sunbathed soul into its beatin’ heart. A small array of guest vocalists liven up the stage, giving the show a good sense of variety. They flaunt their production chops with a rendition of Jess Glynne’s Right Here and show some flair with their own Ready For Your Love.  Speed dealer shades and bucket hats are being adorned en masse under the Futuredome for Darude, as the Finnish renaissance man continues to enjoy the new lease on life provided him by the breakfast boys at triple j. Everyone humours Ville with a bit of dancing during new track, Beautiful Alien, but no one is here for an introduction. We want the old shit. The rave shit. The euphoric European high-NRG shit. And the man with the chiselled jawline accommodates, rocking our very core with a monster Feel The Beat/Sandstorm megamix that’s as large as it is ridiculous. We still believe in Wild FM, oh yes.

While their sound is solid and their performance is somewhat strong, it never quite reaches a level that’d be worth writing home about.

Over under the Cocoon tent, France’s Appolonia provide some respite from the oppressive afternoon with some soothing sounds. The surrounds of the stage and sound-desk are lined with images of foliage, and the French three-piece’s sonic element assists in completing the gateway to a micro-paradise. It’s a sensual place to be, at least until the point when the guy next to you starts throwing up the remains of some barely digested junk food, and then the open air is as welcoming and refreshing as ever.

Positive energy levels are taken to further levels of extreme with some sunshine drum’n’bass courtesy Leeds duo Sigma. With a couple of capable vocalists in tow, the boys string together a handy set that at times recalls Rudimental of last year. Crossover cuts like Higher, Changing and Bound 2 rework, Nobody To Love, get the dust flying. More punters continue to fill the main area and it’s clear things are primed to hit fever pitch later on.

We cut back past tom. at The Island, and the Le Froth legend is giving us that liquid goodness that keeps us going back to his club night. He takes us further and further down his deep and dense rabbit hole, matching our dance moves in line with his considered mixes.

The sun is still beating down hard as Hilltop Hoods do their best to solicit some hands held high in the sky. A brass trio and drummer inject their set with a small dose of adrenaline, invigorating the hip hop crew with that potent live touch throughout. While their sound is solid and their performance is somewhat strong, it never quite reaches a level that’d be worth writing home about. Still, it’s good to hear some hip hop amid the flood of dance music, because variation is what great music festivals are made of. Unfortunately it seems that too many promoters are starting to deny this fact and are instead opting for the safer fix of genre fencing.

Canadian duo Art Department continue the Cocoon stage trend of serving up some of the most tasteful dance music heard anywhere in the festival grounds. They throw the gimmicks out the window and head in pursuit of a head concoction of quality dance music, with hyper-ethereal visuals to boot. Seamless transitions provide a smooth plain of travel from beginning to end, and the long-form experience bares much fruit.

Martin Garrix has no right to be blasting beats in the manner he is, but the Dutch kid – and we’re talking just started buying booze at the clubs he’s headlining, kid – is pretty much unstoppable as the sun melts to the west. The stage production is really coming alive, with the lighting rig pulsing, fire rising and streamers riding through the air, while Garrix gives us thick breakdowns end to end, playing a style of EDM that couldn’t be more of the now. Animals still sounds as massive as it did when it first arrived in 2013, but now the 18 year-old supports that single with a complete quiver of big-room tunes that are designed to get you jumping.

The severity of sonic booms continues with Nero, who are crossing livewires with some blistering vocal dubstep. Centred within a formidable stage rig built for war, they warp their work in a way that’s unpredictable and entirely immersive. Crush On You goes completely mutant after a sugary start, Promises becomes today’s new watermark, while that introductory drop of Satisfy is completely filthy and potentially illegal. Minds are being blown in every corner of the tent, and some people look like they need a good lie down and a cup of tea.

Seth Troxler – arguably the most interesting man on the planet – is just on another level in the Cocoon, hosting what feels like a private party on the most exclusive of tropical islands. His tech house is of the highest IQ, his fingerwork on the decks flawless. But away from the tunes, a big part of the reason our Michigan boy is so loved is his sense of frivolity – and as his image morphs into a unicorn and rides through a storm into our eyes, we can’t help but chuckle to ourselves. Tehehe.

Example and 2 Chainz keep the microphone warm, with styles entirely at odds with each other. The British lad Elliot Gleave melds UK garage and electro with simple bursts of verse, while our gold-adorned Georgian guest is straight up boom bap booty rap – sounds that are causing nipples to slip at a frighteningly alarming rate.

With the descent of the sun, the victorious night shrouds all in its mystifying veil, and the festival really moves into its own. The endless parades of posers and peck-bouncing muscle-men are lost to the call of some seductive siren and the stages become more tightly clustered with young adventurists searching for gateways into new worlds.

The Chanting Monkz intro gives way into DJ Hi-tek Rulz and there’s no mistaking that the Die Antwoord rollercoaster has begun its journey. Yolandi and Ninja storm onto the stage spitting the venomous Fok Julle Naaiers and from that moment on the crowd is theirs. Their stage presence is undeniable, and throughout their set they bring the full gamut of goods: Theatricality, extreme energy, a massive sound – they’ve got it all. It’s one thing to hear their recorded output, but the live experience is a whole other wonder that takes things all the way.  

Example and 2 Chainz keep the microphone warm, with styles entirely at odds with each other.

Although the Supernova main stage lacks the same intimacy we enjoyed at RNA Showgrounds pavilion last year, Knife Party remain unforgiving in their delivery. Rob Swire and Gareth McGrillen bring the grit from their days in Pendulum, but as a dancefloor duo, they’re in a position to gift us with some more mainstream crossover beats. Their stage show remains brilliantly over the top, with a neon horror movie playing out before our eyes. We wince as the heat of flames moves across the area, and try not to swallow confetti as it spews from cannons to our right. Internet Friends is berserk, and somewhat ironically it sees punters clutching their phones, eager to share the moment across social media.

With a row of multi-storey high flames blasting behind him, Drake’s entrance is one built on spectacle. “This is not a rehearsal” flashes on the central LED screen as the MC swaggers across the stage, spitting his smooth verses like a master craftsman all the way. He delivers a career-spanning set, which peaks in the later quarter with the hits Marvin’s Room, Started From The Bottom and Hold on, We’re Going Home, each one driving his fans towards mild-hysterias.

Prior to The Prodigy’s arrival on stage an announcement breaks the news that their powerhouse MC, Maxim, is unable to make it due to a family crisis. It’s a sobering shock. However, the moment Liam, Keith and live co take the stage for opener, Nasty, they’re blasting at maximum fire power, sounding as dangerous as ever. They weren’t lying when they proclaimed they were never outgunned, and every moment is a strategic exercise in resourcefulness. An extended version of Firestarter whips things into a blazing fury, Voodoo People entrances all into a rave mania and the savage new cut, Wall Of Death, comes crashing on down with all the impending doom of a monolith at the fall of an empire – it’s simply blissful. By the time the one-two punch set highlights of Smack My Bitch Up and Take Me To The Hospital bring it all to a close, The Prodigy have provided a truly memorable experience and overcome the odds to claim yet another startling victory. There has never been another in the world like this band, and there likely never will be. This one goes out to Maxim!

After The Prodigy’s aural pounding, some smooth Sven Väth is just what the doctor ordered, the German Cocoon kingpin laying out the silkiest of smooth ambient techno – a little minimal nightcap. We’re more cooked than a backpacker at South Bank, but thanks to the bald 50 year-old we now feel at peace. Complete. Future has been a raving success. It’s now time to ice the feet and eat a banana.