Live Review: Fairgrounds Festival

For the second time in as many years, the bucolic south coast colony of Berry found itself overrun.

The benign hordes descended on the town in brightly coloured waves. Its usually placid central thoroughfares shook as slabs of amplified percussion ricocheted between the century-old buildings. The Donut Van, Berry's modest, cinnamon-encrusted crown, quietly continued in its holy mission, enjoying the momentary pulse of energy and custom. Last year, Fairgrounds proved that music festivals still had the power to surprise and provided a unique creative space for people to engage with artists and each other. The problems were all boring logistical ones. The core ideas, those of inclusion and an analogue style of enjoyment favouring tactile experiences, were well conceived, and were received with love and appreciation. This year, the organisers lined up all the obvious red-light issues and swept the board clear, resulting in an event that left everybody smiling. There is still room for adjustments (it's only their second year), but all good events should still feel like there is opportunity for growth and change.

Friday night was the new addition. Most of the ground was ready with only the peripheral attractions held back. Coloured flags fluttered in the strong westerly that rolled underneath the moody sky. The day was hot, over 30 degrees, and flies were in abundance after a wet winter. The crowd was still growing as festival opener Ali Barter closed her set. It was a good one. Strong power chords did the grunt work during a steady four/four set of pop songs that leaned into its distant grunge heritage. Barter's clean and melodic approach to guitar music was welcomed. The Drones were a different story.

No one can accuse Gareth Liddiard of being a slouch. The seasoned veteran takes no shortcuts and approaches each show with the same conviction and vigour. The rough noise he and The Drones produced felt like a challenge. It was an uncompromising 60 minutes that a few people did not gel with. That said, the hacksaw poetry of Shark Fin Blues could not be denied.

Iconic folk singer Rodriguez played into the dusk, steering us back into more civilised waters with Sugar Man and a cover of Light My Fire.

Perennial party favourites King Gizzard & The Lizard Wizard brought all their frenzied energy to bear on the night time crowd. Their manic, mathematical psych-rock never gets old, and never fails to ignite. One punter may have ruined his weekend with a horribly ill-timed stage dive but, for the rest of us, that was just fuel for the fire. With Friday night done, and the first brisket sandwich annihilated, we retreated back to camp.

Saturday was cooler. An early rain cleared away the dust and some of the invading flies, and by the time the gates opened the sky was a brilliant azure blue. The vendors were set up, the market was back, there were drinks on ice and the pool was filling up rapidly. First stop was the unassuming black barbecue drums of Bovine & Swine, smoking away with a singular purpose at the back. With another brisket sandwich tucked away, a tour of the grounds was next. Three bars were waiting for thirsty punters (first problem solved). Several more food options looked tempting (second problem solved). Another new addition was the Newtown Social Club stage, set up in an open shed likely used for cattle auctions or local Easter show equivalents. Naked Edison bulbs swung from the rafters and folks could stand on the straw-laden floor to watch the performers on the small carpeted space in front. Among them, Gabriella Cohen, a talented young artist that played light and spirited folk music. Deft guitar work and a beautiful voice held their own against the chunky riffing of Big Scary on the main stage a short distance away.

Angel Olsen held court in the golden afternoon light. Her band was dressed in matching baby-blue suits and together they played through some alt-country that felt right at home among the rural splendour. Her hypnotic warble carries a lot of emotional weight, but her music never allows for the pathos to overwhelm. In the warm summer air it felt rich and nourishing.

Canadian duo Japandroids blasted us out of our haze. The Nights Of Wine And Roses and Young Hearts Spark Fire were incredible moments of raw delight, and there was suddenly a sense of congruence that permeated through the event. Kids danced with parents enjoying the safe social space, adults dropped their pretence and the vibe shifted pleasantly as people drank in the sunshine.

Sarah Blasko reigned in the verve, adjusting the tone for the final few hours. It was a pleasantly predictable set that wasn't overly memorable, but served a purpose.

Swedish troubadour The Tallest Man On Earth was the highlight of the weekend. He played under a clear crescent moon, the day's last light sliding off the world to the west. The cascading Irish lilt of Sagres was warm and gregarious while the delicate rambling of Love Is All created memories for many young couples. It was The Gardener that we will remember, though: a well-plotted parable that sounded sublime in the inky dusk.

Jagwar Ma played out the festival with a solid, The Stone Roses-esque wall of synth noise and steady pulsing bass. It was a smart choice to finish, big yet approachable and perfectly indicative of the real intelligence behind the festival.

The event was a well-conceived exercise that addressed the issue plaguing year one - food was plentiful and varied, drinks were easy to access. It feels natural to ask for more choices in terms of booze (two types of beer and one of cider seemed a little lacking), but perhaps that's just an all-too-common sense of entitlement creeping into the equation.

The term 'handcrafted' has been blunted and tarnished by overuse, but Fairgrounds feels like something that it truly applies to. The attention to detail and the genuine feeling of inclusion and collaboration was more than apparent (they even had an entire stage devoted to kids, offering stories, music and a drum kit for kids to bash on). Another smartly curated line-up was just the icing. The inclination is to urge festival organisers to maintain the current capacity. Larger crowds will lead to bloat, and it's what forced 'boutique' festivals like Splendour In The Grass and Laneway into behemoths that outgrew their own personalities. As it stands, Fairgrounds is an excellent experience, a memorable and thoroughly enjoyable gig removed from the modern maximalist mindset. It's almost worth a fake bad review to keep it to ourselves.