Live Review: Peats Ridge Festival

3 January 2013 | 2:57 pm | Alex Wilson

The crowd has to be one of the loveliest in Australia, mercifully free of the dickheads that can make otherwise great festival line-ups a living hell.

Arriving late on the first day of this year's Peats Ridge Festival, a pretty serious alcohol check and box office delay flavoured the first part of this year's event. Not a good start, but the quality of the main stage acts that night quickly put the entry difficulties behind the experience.

The Crooked Fiddle Band brought an impressive light and video extravaganza along with their frenetic gypsy licks, delivered with the chops of a shred-metal band and buoyed by infectious punk rock spirit. Then, The Herd. Three of Australia's best MCs, backed by what must be one of the best live hip-hop bands since The Roots was a winning combo that got heads bopping and booty shaking. The Sydney outfit once again demonstrated why they are one of the best loved and most respected hip-hop crews in the country. 

Finishing up night one were Tijuana Cartel. Even though it was this reviewer's first experience of these guys, it was immediately apparent why they are closing the night off. Their combination of smooth flamenco licks, hip-hop and EDM combines effortlessly into one smooth and groovy cocktail that the crowd drinks deeply from. The only sour note is what sounds like an anti-drug message emerging towards the end of the set that, as far as one can tell, doesn't go down overly well with all of the punters. Horses for courses.

With 200-odd artists on show over the festival, first cab off the rank for on Saturday (day two) for me is Battleships. Their indie-pop is delivered with energy and polish, but it's predictable, leaning a bit too heavily on a familiar combination of dancefloor beats and minor-key anthemic choruses. Lime Cordiale provide a refreshing change of pace from this in the Lyrebird tent. Mining the sounds of the '70s, they lay soulful vocals over the top of a sound that's part classic funk, part porno soundtrack. It sounds fantastic and extra points awarded for trombone solos; criminally underrated in rock.

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Back at the Bellbird mainstage, Kingfisha have assembled a throng of earth kids moving with some dark, aquatic dub grooves. Each song nicely coasts on a bed of killer grooves and subtle, smoked-out electronics. It's like taking a stoned ride in a glass-bottomed boat. Kaki King then takes the stage and quickly proves herself to be one of the most unique artists at the whole festival.

She's tiny, unassuming and equal parts awkward and endearing in her stage banter; but boy can she play a guitar. Having swung by Peats Ridge while on her honeymoon in Australia, she treats the audience to an inimitable display of guitar mastery, plucking, thwacking and tapping her steel-string at a breakneck pace. She's clearly a virtuoso, but her songs are balanced with a risk-taking attitude; she's got soul, not just fast fingers.

The one thing you can say about Peats Ridge is that the crowd has to be one of the loveliest in Australia, mercifully free of the dickheads that can make otherwise great festival line-ups a living hell. Enjoyable moments are spent kicking it at the Tantric Turtle and Chai Tent, watching open-mic style stuff and then hoeing into some fine Yemeni cuisine (the food here, while predicably exy, is uniformly good). Those up for learning how to be a better hippie checked out a poetry slam, listened to a lecture on deep ecology, got taught how to dumpster dive, learnt to massage your partner or craft their heart out with glue, paint, feathers and glitter.

The camping setup works beautifully with the rest of the festival's vibe and it's often just as pleasant to chill out near your tent with pleasant folks and shoot the shit as it is to brave the hot sun and see bands. A few hours were definitely killed this way. The convoluted system of drinks tickets wasn't quite as relaxing, though. Apparently designed to prevent theft at the bars, but with prices that already feel high and a prohibition on BYO, the fact that you have to line-up twice to get a drink feels needlessly complicated.

After that R'n'R, 65daysofstatic* line-up at the Bellbird stage.  Up to this point, the festival hadn't heard a huge wall of guitars or pounding, racing drums, but the British instrumental post-rockers set that right immediately, with songs that lie halfway between stadium rock and a rave-up and a physical, powerful live performance. You get the sense that most punters knew nothing about this band before they hit the stage and yet they walked away converted. Continuing the instrumental-rock vibes are Sydney's Meniscus, whose churning, liquid guitar ambience fills the triple j stage shortly after 65daysofstatic finish up.

Closing out night two are The Black Seeds, who soothe the heart-wrenching post-rock destruction wrought before with funky afrobeat grooves. These guys have been laying it down deep for over a decade, and their experience shows as they bring just the right combination of dancehall energy and dub relaxation to wrap up the night.

Last day and it's an absolute scorcher, so the safe option was the Lyrebird tent with Fanny Lumsden & The Thrillseekers, who write twangin' country hoedowns about grannies crackin' stockwhips and uncles shootin' their own toes off. It's gloriously schmaltzy and sincere all at once. The Thrillseekers do a fine job backing up the endearing and bantery Fanny, who closes out the set with an unexpectedly awesome countrified cover of AC/DC's 'You Shook Me All Night Long'.

Glass Towers also impressed early, looking surprisingly young for a band that plays their indie guitar pop stuff with such confidence. Then it's Winter People who play well and their anthemic, orchestral songs are obviously beautifully written, but their reverb-drenched guitars and stately strings are not well suited for an open stage on a bright afternoon. They are also struggled against the intense heat, which kept punters well away from the front of stage.

The sun was similarly punishing down at Claude Hay's set at the triple j stage. Hay is a one-man slide-guitar/slap-bass/foot-operated-drumkit/loopstation virtuoso with a killer set of pipes, a whole lotta guts and swampy, stomping blues tunes that sound like a hillbilly wagon chase crashing into an old-timey Texas salon. It's even better in the flesh than on paper and is undoubtedly one of the best-kept secrets of the festival this year.

Following the fancy dress competition, which featured highlights such as the Beastie Boys (circa Intergalactic), a girl covered in balloon boobs and a tribe of drummers calling themselves the Fukawis, Gossling kicked off at Lyrebird. While possessing a strong voice, they lost attention a few songs in. The songstress and her band play on stage with a kind of static restraint that does not seem to translate to a gripping live show.

One of the names on everyone's lips was Sharon Jones & The Dap-Kings. She takes the stage in a gold dress to rapturous applause, immediately belting out throaty, soulful wails that get literally thousands dancing right off the bat. Although all the Dap-Kings musical touchstones are from decades-old R&B, they play with the kind of effortless groove that makes the music feel timeless. Another highlight of the whole festival is when Sharon takes the audience through a series of '60s dance moves like the Funky Chicken and the Mashed Potato, while backed by some of the tightest funk this side of James Brown.

With the New Year rapidly approaching – and the excitement palatable – the John Butler Trio take the stage. Even those resistant to Butler had a hard time denying the power of his live show on this occasion. He cranked out the hits, which become more vibrant when brought to life on stage by these three excellent musicians, and John Butler is clearly stoked to be clocking in the New Year for his adoring crowd of fans.

But stepping away from the big crowd in front of the mainstage, a small but dedicated group that have turned up to the triple j stage to see the banjo-pluckin', tambo-shakin' stylings of Little Bastard ring in 2013. They crank through their booze-fuelled country-punk, with all the breathless intensity that befits a New Year just around the corner and it is all smiles and random NYE pashes when they interrupt a song abruptly to do the countdown.

*Disclaimer: This reviewer plays in the band sleepmakeswaves, who are touring with and are acquaintances of 65daysofstatic.