Live Review: Falls Festival 2012

DAY ONE

This year, highway signs direct all Lorne-bound, Falls Festival traffic from Melbourne via the less scenic, inland route. We drive through quaint rural towns such as Winchelsea and Deans Marsh and notice several suspicious-looking parked cars with radar-wielding cops in the driver seat (hopefully not too late).

Our legs are saved by the fact that Grand Theatre on the hilltop is the only stage open for business tonight. Luring up-for-it volunteers into the thick of it for crazy antics doesn't prove problematic at all for international games facilitators Legs Akimbo and who would've thunk watching two underwear-clad, greased-up (in baby oil) dudes wrestling blindfolded in a bid to remove their opponent's socks could be so entertaining? (Actually, that even sounds awesome on paper.)

A helpful reminder thanks to the Falls Festival app: The Cactus Channel are about to hit the stage. We wish we could text back "thanks". How many years out of Princes Hill Secondary College is this ridiculously talented ten-piece? Not many, if any. Drummer Hudson Whitlock is a mini Josh Homme yet to become aware of his greatness. A five-piece brass section is bound to blow your head off and The Cactus Channel sound incredible. They just need to work on that extra something that's gonna keep punters coming back for repeat doses of their live show. Once they locate that extra dollop of showmanship, they'll be unstoppable.

Anna Lumb distributes hula hoops throughout the front section of the tent and teaches us some moves such as “the elevator” and “the fanny catch” before we all get to 'perform' the routine to an assortment of tunes including the Amy Winehouse version of Valerie by The Zutons. Next up and bringing the “peace, love, ecstasy” is Muscles, who performs in solo piano mode. There's big love for the artist and it's difficult to hear him over the enthusiastic shout-alongs to tracks such as Ice Cream and the humorous blatant self-promotion of Hey Muscles I Love You (“I wanna have your babies”), but one can't help but crave the full production.

Those lucky enough to have a four-day ticket score the option of experiencing The Bamboos twice. Day one sees a crowd that's itching for a dance and they get exactly what they want when Ella Thompson and Kylie Auldist both almost blow the tent over with their out-of-this-world vocals. Dancing feet must be rested to last the distance however so it's all aboard the campground shuttle for transport express to the land of nod.

DAY TWO

Today it's the Valley Stage's turn to play exclusive host. Drink tokens can be used across the entire duration of the festival, as opposed to being colour coded and restricted to redemption the day of issue as has been the case in previous years – best way to help celebrate Falls Festival's 20th anniversary ever! There's also a white board set up inside the info tent on which to leave messages for friends in lieu of texting since reception is severely limited up here.   

As well as proving kids these days don't know how to waltz, The ReChords bring some early “yeehar”s to the amphitheatre. “We love this shit!” announces a durry-smoking random who would probably never have otherwise stumbled upon these retro stylings. The trio are Easily Loved and my, what shiny instruments they have!

It's hard to understand why Thomas Calder packed up shop from solo work and started a band. As a collective, The Trouble With Templeton sound just fine but Calder's voice stands out as a dominant element. The music has these wonderful crescendos that go almost unnoticed by really sloppy punters who even heckle the band at one point. They manage to work through it though using their stunning harmonisation to ease the crowd into the start of a great day.

There's a lot of footballs and frisbees flying around the joint and it's our personal opinion that these should be confiscated at the gate alongside smuggled booze and umbrellas. A crowd is no place for refining ball skills. The breadth of this Valley Stage allows for all seven members of King Gizzard & The Lizard Wizard to spread straight out across the front of it. In profile, they resemble a lurching, multi-headed raptor and you wouldn't wanna share Stu Mackenzie's mic – a sudden jolt could make him swallow it whole. Eric Moore doesn't so much play the therimin as play with it, but KG&TLW certainly intensify festival frivolity.

Many experienced festivalgoers pack a hobbyhorse or some such item on a stick to hold up and assist lost friends in relocating their posse. We clock a choice alternative: the outline of an enlarged photo of a reveller's head complete with self-penned tick of approval, cut out and taped to a ruler. All campsites must be vacant such is the hillside population assembled for San Cisco. Adorable drummer Scarlett Stevens struggles with her vocals during the chorus of Wild Things. And you can tell everyone's really hanging out for Awkward, which is awkward. Frontman Jordi Davieson prompts the guys and gals in the audience to sing their respective parts during the Vodafone-synced fave, but this still can't conceal the fact that Stevens struggles when multitasking.  

The crowd disperses from the festival site for siestas immediately after San Cisco's set and Sharon Van Etten spends the entire 20 minutes before her scheduled onstage appearance meticulously sound checking/tuning her guitar. The DJ drops Dance With Me (Dizzee Rascal Feat Calvin Harris & Chrome) and we happily oblige. Van Etten steps up to the mic and gingerly enquires, “Are you ready for this?” Not really, it would appear, although this is no reflection on the quality of what she brings.

Unfortunately, the turnout for Husky is also underwhelming. The boys from Melbourne harmonise perfectly to create this floating, soft-tempo sound but it's kind of like a wave that just never breaks. Distorting the piano slightly for their live show, they turn their songs into something of a psych-rock or even stoner-rock sound. A piano interlude in the middle of the set takes a classical turn and highlights the beauty in their subtle simplicity.

Lisa Mitchell has this timid persona surrounding her that she manages to shatter in Spirits when she belts out a high note worthy of the uproar it receives. Getting her lungs out in the first song is finally a step in the right direction for Mitchell. Fans take it a little too far throwing coins at Mitchell during Coin Laundry, which depletes her confidence slightly, although thanks to the remaining, caring crowd members she plucks up and puts on a game-changer set despite a sudden, bucketing rainfall.

It's a bit awkward when a band thanks not only a different city but also a different state during their onstage banter. However, when Vincent Neff of Django Django proudly yells, “Thanks so much people of Queensland!” to a crowd of people standing in a valley in Lorne, Victoria they are able to laugh it off. A fair '80s influence sneaks its way into the set with a ton of synth and a few cowbells thrown in for fun. Perhaps the most interesting moment though, is when they remix their own song Default and work in an ambulance siren – very Tarantino of the boys.

Observation: VIPs take longer to go to the toilet. Oh, look! There are mirrors in here! The Hives have arrived. Cue hysteria. Smokin' hot frontman Howlin' Pelle Almqvist's pre-performance beverage of choice? Coffee. All band members are already in their dapper matching top hat and tails ensembles (minus headwear) and are later ogled limbering up in the backstage area as directed either by one of their wives or a personal trainer. In a blaze of nowhere-near-long-enough glory, Sweden's finest rock'n'roll export and self-proclaimed best live band on the planet (agreed) set a performance standard that's impossible to outdo. Almqvist boasts a new set of hilariously arrogant big-ups/dressing downs and observes this is the third time his band has been tricked into touring out here in our supposed summer only to find it “fuckin' freezing” even for a Swede! New material (Take Back The Toys, Patrolling Days) slots majestically alongside their face-melting hits (Hate To Say I Told You So, Walk Idiot Walk) and each Hive is a gun on his instrument. Taking an unflattering portrait of drummer Chris Dangerous would be impossible and he barely breaks into a sweat despite testing out the durability of those skins beat by trenchant beat. If, like death row inmates, one could choose one's last gig experience to follow the final meal, only The Hives would be worthy.

DAY THREE

A less than ideal way to greet Falls day three is hearing the telltale rhythmic squeaks of a camping mattress. Curse the opportunistic dude sorting out his morning glory! Suddenly The Hives effect creeps in and we worry that we've already experienced the highlight of the festival before the two-day ticketholders have even pitched their tents.

Up in Grand Theatre, Regular John take a while to get going. It's as if each performs solo and there's no chemistry between band members. Guitarist Miles Devine's low-slung black jeans reveal a pair of tighty-whities and when he faces upstage and wiggles about, the effect is unintentionally comical. And it's off down the hill we go.      

Ball Park Music serve up a polished set of geek-chic classics to an enraptured Valley Stage crowd. Constant gigging has seen this band perfect their live sound, but they need to make sure they stick to what it is about them that appealed to listeners in the first place (iFly, Sad Rude Future Dude and the like). Cool they most certainly are not and their most endearing and relatable material comes from an honest place.   

Always pulling a decent crowd, the energetic, tropical band Jinja Safari could be seen bouncing around the stage from the pinnacle of the Falls amphitheatre. And while there's a vibe that everyone watching their set would drop their dacks and bend over backwards for every member in this band, it's pretty clear the boys are talented. Mixing in a sax solo played by a man in just his jocks with up-tempo drumming and fast-paced guitar is not easy, but these boys make a party of it.

The second appearance by The Bamboos includes a Frank Ocean cover (Lost), which is very festival-demographic savvy. I Got Burned still sizzles minus Tim Rogers on guest vocals as does Midnight minus Bobby Flynn's pipes. This set is sadly under attended however, due to a clash with Ash Grunwald up in Grand Theatre.  

Having spied Rob Hirst (Midnight Oil) and Scott Owen (The Living End) fraternising with Grunwald earlier on, we deduce the pair are his backing band for today and so make the trek up the punishing incline accordingly. Grand Theatre is rammed and even if Grunwald's not usually your bag, it's well worth clapping eyes on this dream Australian rhythm section feeding off each other and doing their thang. The admiration between the players is palpable and their undetectable, seasoned-muso communication produces spectacular results – seriously jizz-worthy. Hirst's drumming is crisp but far from clinical and Owen's groove is unmistakable. The throng demands an encore, but sadly only Grunwald returns to the stage, craps on for way too long and then tries to lead us through a Wade In The Water-style sing-along before the stage manager chucks a wobbly and cuts off the sound. A Grunwald/Hirst/Owen collaborative side-project in 2013? Bring it on!            

When an act is described as good, fun, pub rock, it always manages to sound like an insult, but this is honestly what Cosmo Jarvis brings live. Throwing in an inspired riff, if not the exact riff that opens Buffalo Springfield's For What It's Worth, changes the pace nicely however it does keep falling back into that British pop-rock genre. Jarvis definitely succeeds in demonstrating an impressive vocal range though.

SBTRKT pulls a motherfucking crowd. From the moment we step into the vicinity, it's non-stop dancing. The kick bass, step bass and use of flicking tings see SBTRKT exploring so many different styles of dance music. Aaron Jerome's voice is like salty chocolate; it goes down a treat but has that tang to it as well. He does get slightly confused, saying: “It's our first time in Australia… This year… Well actually we played earlier in the year, but it's been about 12 months.” But all can be forgiven for this cracker of a set.

As the punters scatter, Beach House's intricate stage adornments are assembled. Quite how frontvixen Victoria Legrand achieves the perfect balance between tousled and tamed mane is enviable, but her manner is surly this early evening. Courtesy of the giant screens, we witness her barking orders left and right between songs, which serves to break the spell that their calming, beguiling sound casts. An act that's probably more suited to being experienced indoors where atmospheric lighting effects can be fully realised.   

“We are at capacity,” is probably the best thing an artist can hear before their gig and boy is Grand Theatre at capacity for Flume. Harley Streten creates this undulating soundscape that pulsates around a room, infiltrating and almost possessing your body to move with the vibrations. Insane seems the most appropriate song for the moment, however Holdin' On gets the most screams. The downside is that the sound is a little weak at the back of the tent. Perhaps it might have been just as fun, if not more fun, outside the tent.

There are more people trying to cram under the marquee to catch Flume than are braving the zero-degree temperature on the hillside awaiting The Flaming Lips spectacle. Confetti cannons, Wayne Coyne crowd-surfing inside a giant transparent bubble, random dancers in dress-ups onstage, red smoke billowing from Coyne's megaphone – all experienced within this picturesque amphitheatre setting framed by towering trees. It's something to behold, but there's verve lacking. Perhaps it's time for the band to surprise and dazzle us with something new? There are so many punters crammed into the campground shuttle before set's end that we need to sit on each other's knees. It would appear the jury is unanimous.

DAY FOUR

What!? Today is New Year's Eve? Time to get down to the business of sourcing possible candidates for a 12 o'clock pash and dash! As the remaining stray remnants of confetti from last night's The Flaming Lips set flutter down from the flies on the breeze, Hayden Calnin throws out the old, “Thanks for coming down early,” chestnut. For My Help is simply divine, but the sombre content could make those nursing frayed emotions fight back the tears. Calnin encourages us to dance to his last song, acknowledging, “It's the only song of mine which you might be able to dance to.” A captivating talent bound to extend his reach in 2013; the new material presented today also bodes well. 

Best Coast singer Bethany Cosentino has a beverage holder screwed onto her mic stand, which is a stroke of genius. Theirs certainly is dreamy music for couples (Boyfriend, Honey, When I'm With You, Do You Love Me Like You Used To – you could write a love poem outta their song titles) and there are way too many PDAs going on in the valley, which is not conducive to locating that midnight tonsil hockey contender. So it's up the incline for some Bleeding Knees Club.

Frontman Alex Wall changes up the Have Fun chorus lyrics from, “I just wanna have fun”, alternating with “I just wanna shag your mum”, but it's kinda subtle so only a few smirks are detectable on punters' dials. The trio are definitely more proficient on their respective instruments these days but have lost none of their slacker appeal, which is a relief. And spirited drummer Brett Jansch adds a spiked goon bag to the already intoxicated party brew.

Introducing themselves as “Swedish sisters from Sweden”, First Aid Kit further fly the blue and yellow flag by sporting matching outfits as a tribute to ABBA: micro minis with giant cartoon cat prints, a different breed and colour of cat for each sister. The Söderberg sisters later cement this homage with a stunning cover of ABBA's Chiquitita that perfectly showcases their sibling harmonies. Two little toddlers dance onstage with the girls for the majority of their set and we're charmed. They're maturing beautifully (Johanna could be Carmen Electra's not slutty baby sister) and the themes of First Aid Kit's songs reflect a depth and sensitivity way beyond their years.

Sound levels for Matt Corby's set are probably the worst of the festival. It's almost impossible to hear the Corbstar from the shade tent which, let's face it, after four days in the sun everyone wishes to be under. From up the front though, his gypsy eyes and masculine voice draw you in. The boy also has arguably the best range in the business, hitting the high notes with ease while also not being afraid to go low and incorporate a bit of vibrato. It would seem that he is taking his sound in more of a rock direction and getting away from those angelic live tunes.

A tried and tested gee-up for any festival, Hilltop Hoods once again deliver during their sunset slot. There's something so genuinely appreciative about the way they address the crowd and the minute that flute sample kicks in to intro The Nosebleed Section, the valley becomes a makeshift trampoline. Plutonic Lab is faultless on the skins accompanying Suffa and Pressure and I Love It feat (an absent) Sia just about sums up how we feel right now.

Rolling into Grand Theatre after a detour back to the campsite to rug up proves opportune: World's End Press are the maestros of mayhem. Whatever they've been up to in the opposite hemisphere with Tim Goldsworthy is definitely working for them and their new songs are instantly accessible. The band doesn't rely solely on John Parkinson to pull infectious shapes onstage either, with bassist Sashi Dharann and keyboardist Rhys Richards also proving they're slaves to the rhythm.

A couple of Falls volunteers who are dancing wildly intervene during our trip to the bar. They've just finished their shifts and Two Door Cinema Club provide the perfect soundtrack for such a celebration. Undercover Martyn speaks directly to those in search of a meaningful other – “I can tell just what you want/You don't want to be alone…” Crap! What's the time? “Ten, nine, eight…” No hotties on the hill. Damn! Hugs it is then.   

The clash of the festival would have to be Coolio and DZ Deathrays, just after midnight. Yeah, sure, they cater to two totally different types of music fan and both bands bring unique experiences, but there's something about ringing in the New Year that can make one feel like reminiscing. Love for DZ wins out. There's only two of them up there, but they dominate that massive Grand Theatre stage and smash out short, sharp, demented tunes that make you feel as if you're riding the Gravitron. Tripping down the hill to refuel as Coolio's playing his final track proves advantageous. Guess what it is? Gangsta's Paradise. And a Happy New Year to you, too.