Live Review: Splendour In The Grass

1 August 2013 | 9:18 am | Staff Writer

So there you have it – despite the early new site teething problems Splendour In The Grass is once more a triumph of good music and good times. Bring on Splendour ’14!

More Splendour In The Grass More Splendour In The Grass

Okay, let us never mention the horror of trying to get to and then get into the site on the first day of Splendour In The Grass at its new home at North Byron Parklands again. It was a shitfight of the highest order and the promoters have acknowledged this and apologised, so let's move onto the music – here's an abridged take on what transpired over the weekend.

FRIDAY

The weather has been kind and the sun is bright – although the vast seas of mud throughout the site suggest a lot of rain in the area in the lead-up – but most have brought gumboots so it's not too big an issue.

A small but enthusiastic crowd quickly blossoms into a sizeable mass to welcome Melburnian pop-rockers Baptism of Uzi, and they coolly justify the attendance rate with a sonically polished and instrumentally tight set. They don't exactly possess what you'd call a high-energy stage presence, but it's charming nonetheless and the largely laidback grooves found in songs such as Believe and Stray Currents, an obvious highlight, do wonders in easing us into the festival vibe.

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The dual vocals of Matt Doyle and Ela Stiles are already emanating from the GW McLennan Tent upon approach, which can only mean one thing: the rock-dappled guitar pop of Songs. Harmonies are certainly a forte for this band, the he/she voices dancing around and into each other sublimely. Meandering heart string-puller Pain gets an incredibly warm reception, so it's probably fine that they're good enough at what they do to keep us interested despite the relaxed pace of it all.

If you're looking for something to get revved up, then Brisbane-based stoner punks Dune Rats are what you need. It's a simple proposition backed by simple composition and simple lyrics, in the fundamental belief that polish is for nerds – but, fuck, is it fun. They're into it, the pit's into it, the stragglers on the outside are into it, the security guards appear to be into it – it's hard not to catch the disease.

Two words immediately spring to mind as Brisbane disco revival outfit Mitzi kick off their set: 'Awww, shiiiit'. Coming across like one part World's End Press and two parts LCD Soundsystem, the quartet effortlessly drop a ream of jive-driven, funk-laced arrangements, and you know when the first part of your body to move in response to music is your hips that you're in for some sexy, sexy listenin'. This band is bound to make a lot of dancefloors incredibly happy in the near future.

Nothing like feisty rock babes in high cut shorts to get the blood pumping, and Deap Vally provide a heart starter of a set early. If Meg White brought the vocals, this is what The White Stripes would have sounded like. Lindsey Troy lets fly with continual bone rattling riffs, her howls impassioned and sassy, and the drumming of Julie Edwards is primal and all kinds of bruising. Lies kicks complete arse.

They might come across as slackers in the press, but Wavves can put it together on stage, and when they do – such as today – it's pretty fucking special. They dominate the Supertop with a collection of fuzzed out jams that sit smoky underneath Nathan Williams' shout-along choruses. Post Acid makes a lot of people very happy, while a bunch of tracks off Afraid Of Heights highlight the constantly strengthening chemistry between Williams and his bass-strapped running mate Stephen Pope.

British alt-folk trio Daughter perfectly complement the fading afternoon sun with all the mood of their quiet/loud dynamic as front woman Elena Tonra mesmerises with her beautifully crisp and emotive vocal. Human is a highlight; it's arresting to hear Tonra exclaim “I think I'm dying here”, though the trio benefit as much from Remi Aguillella's interesting percussion techniques to enhance an atmosphere made darker with his toms, more intriguing with his rhythms and more poignant with his cymbal wash.

Robert DeLong is clearly happy to be here. Equally, the screaming throng of salivating groovers at the Mix Up Stage seem thrilled to have him. It's a confluence of positivity from both sides and it makes for one of the day's most memorable sets so far. Naturally, the response to his quirky, wonky electro-dance-dubstep-pop is nothing short of thunderous, perhaps never more so than for his wildly popular Global Concepts. But, really, it seems like he could be playing the spoons up there and people would cheer for it.

 Unknown Mortal Orchestra have enjoyed something of a meteoric rise, and after only a few minutes of seeing them in the flesh it's not hard to fathom why. Standout track How Can You Luv Me ends with a wild percussive interlude before seamlessly dropping into the musical roller coaster that is Strangers Are Strange. They clearly enjoy what they do (Swim and Sleep (Like A Shark) is a particular delight), and that makes it incredibly easy to enjoy what they do in kind.

It's no stretch to say that the music of sisterly trio Haim possesses more balls than that of most of the male-dominated acts getting around these stages, and is a welcome change from the litany of delicate-as-snowflakes, overly cutesy lady-led music that seemed to be de rigueur for a while there. Showcasing songs from their recent release Falling, the siblings' thundering drums, pounding bass and crunching guitar makes for a performance that leaves all in attendance buzzing to their very cores.

Something this smooth and sultry shouldn't work this well at party hour on Friday evening, but somehow Clairy Browne & The Bangin' Rackettes turn in a killer festival set. While Browne herself is captivating, her band and backing singers are just as important in both a visual and musical sense. A surfie instrumental gives the dancers a chance to flaunt their thing, before the set closes out with Love Letter and a riotous Whatta Man.

Alaskan rockers Portugal. The Man barely stop for breath as they treat the excited and excitable crowd to an almost non-stop barrage of aural deliciousness. The catalogue-spanning set, which includes People Say, Guns And Dogs, Evil Friends, Got It All (This Can't Be Living Now), Atomic Man, and Creep In A T-Shirt, is uniformly received with vocal enthusiasm, right through to the dynamically expansive, slow-burn crescendo of Sleep Forever. One of the best performances of the festival so far, hands down.

Crowd favourites Boy & Bear take to the night in fine form, their immaculate dress corresponding with the pin-perfect tones of their music – dapper dexterity. They cut through a swathe of material from 2011's Moonfire, with Feeding Line a particularly tight cut. New single Southern Sun is met with rapturous applause, and some other fresh material heralds in the next stage of the band's intricate indie-folk whimsy.

Appleonia is Jessie Chapnik Kahn, former Home & Away actress and current Ben Lee collaborator. At the Global Village her compositions are simply adorned by a guitarist, feeling raw with an alt-rock style that shows off an impressively warm vocal even though the mystical subject matter at times feels contrived: “We are spirits we are spaces hanging off the limbs of aliens”. She seems high in her chat, though the teeny tiny songstress is wonderfully lucid in song, and when husband Nadav Kahn (formerly of Gelbison) adds keys, the tracks – including closer She's The Sun – come fully to life.

The sunny good times on offer from renowned indie poppers Darwin Deez are welcome sights and sounds to warm the cockles. The call and response with the audience during Bed Space is especially nice, and the canonical dance the band performs as a prelude to standout Bad Day on their way to beloved closer Radar Detector ensures everyone departs to their next adventure with wide, wide smiles on their faces.

It's been twenty years since You Am I produced their first album, Sound As Ever. Played in its entirety tonight in celebration, it is an affirming experience to witness Tim Rogers and co's grungier efforts. Coprolalia, Adam's Ribs, Who's Leaving You Now? – these songs sound as relevant now as then, if a little rusty in parts. A triptych of Hourly Daily tracks (Good Morning, Soldiers, Mr Milk) follow, then close with the obvious Berlin Chair, Rogers all flailing limbs and checked flares, the ocker Townshend.

There's a solid turnout for Brit chancers Babyshambles' first Australian show, and people seem fascinated as to how frontman Pete Doherty is going to present. He's surprisingly lucid (albeit wild) given the reputation that's preceded him, the band is quite tight, and new track Fireman sounds great in this setting, as does Nothing Comes To Nothing. Doherty's scallywag waster gimmick endears him to many in attendance, and a solid set's concluded with Fuck The World, which still possesses plenty of nihilistic clout.

As “We are Flight Facilities – we hope you enjoy your flight” is announced from the control deck of the bopping desk wizard duo, the Mix Up tent goes wild as they increasingly pick up the pace across a set including guests George Maple, Kurtis and Elizabeth Rose. Clair De Lune lacks its recorded poignancy; the gorgeous key melody is lost in a disjointed mix as Owl Eyes seems to be confused about when to sing. Moving into heavy beat, Tori Amos' Professional Widow makes an inspired appearance before Crave You closes a scatty set.  

Considering the refrain from Brother is the Splendour equivalent of a cooee this year, every man and his dog onesie have come to hear Matt Corby play it. His incredible range and wonderful stage presence deserve more respect than the mass exodus once his token song is done part way through the set, but those who stay are rewarded with the fantastic energy of a performer bigger than new crowd favourite Resolution and Brother.

By now New York's TV On The Radio are bona fide festival veterans, and they waste no time building a groove with their trademark 'rock music that people can dance to'. The band play in complete harmony to produce their dense but atmospheric music, and of course they possess one genuine festival banger in the form of Wolf Like Me which almost brings the tent down. The rest of the set is equally memorable, tracks like Repetition seeming profound and hedonistic at once, no mean feat.

Fucking yes Klaxons. The Brits continue to improve; the melodies more cohesive, the guitar work noisier, the keys pounded with more conviction. James, Simon and Jamie cut moves as colour palates wash over them, and although maturity can be felt tonight, the pinks and blues signal they'll always be fluorescent adolescents. Van She's Tomek Archer fills in on the drums and destroys it on higher intensity cuts like Atlantis To Interzone and Magick, meanwhile, the new piano-driven house sounds positively exciting.

The GW McLennan tent is utterly packed for national treasures Architecture In Helsinki, and the festival veterans make sure to bring the tunes to make people move. They present a mix of new tracks alongside old faithfuls such as Desert Island, Hold Music and Like It Or Not, ensuring the party vibes and energy levels remain at acceptable levels at the bottom end of a long day. The entire spectacle is just one big celebration, and it would honestly be hard to ask for a better way to close the day.

Mumford & Sons play Little Lion Man early to a crowd that's haemorrhaging from the Supertop, and with a bank of bright lights beaming out you get that campfire vibe. Best summarised these tracks are a bunch of folk marshmallows, soft and full of sugar; banjos are given a little tickle, Marcus Mumford shoots smug looks across the stage and the Brits show a complete disregard to any latecomers by ploughing through more hits early including I Will Wait and Lover Of The Light.

SATURDAY

Local emotive rockers Postblue plunder the bottom end of the distortion line, making for a shattering opening to Saturday's sonic festivities. These angst-ridden dudes play the kind of thing most disaffected teens want to thrash out as they claw their way out of adolescence, and while it can be a little too earnest, the band's sound fills the large stage effectively, even threatening to pummel the small crowd in sections. Certainly a band to keep tabs on.

Southern London slacker louches Palma Violets sure have a lot of charisma. Wavering from touchstone to touchstone like a fickle idiot savant, the band manage to pay homage to Britpop and Del Shannon in equal measure without coming across as self-important, with the organ lending a vintage touch. The excellent Best Of Friends and Brand New Song are the heroes in a solid set. It's all a bit of fun – topless swooning revellers, thrashing about, garage screams, spirit fingers – the party band delivers.

Though his acoustic pop rock is pleasant enough, there's little dynamic in Vance Joy's set to make it exceptional. His stage persona is wonderfully chipper as he introduces the stories of his songs; speaking of embracing people's physical oddities, Snaggle Tooth is cute and charming, showing off the sweet upper reaches of a steady and sure vocal. Crowd favourite Riptide inspires a singalong and it's good to finally hear some higher ranges of guitar melody from the youngster.   

A club-pulse bounce takes hold of the audience as the tent heaves along with Jagwar Ma's loopy, hypnotic opener What Love?, and doesn't let go until they're done. This is an act confident in and able at what they do, their electro pop arrangements such as standout Man I Need and clear winner Come Save Me evoking an almost irresistible primal response from all in the vicinity.

Kicking off with perennial opener Scrape It, Brisbane rock'n'roll masters Violent Soho come out all guns blazing. Love Is A Heavy Word follows before the band launch into new material which seems to be making a connection with punters already – the cheer that comes with the opening notes of Neighbour Neighbour evidence of that. They're tight as hell today – despite flailing limbs, hair and instruments – and older favourites like Muscle Junkie and Jesus Stole My Girlfriend send the crowd nuts.

Though there's an underwhelming crowd for Irish five-piece Villagers, they provide one of the day's highlights with their set of polished, intelligent indie-pop in which single Nothing Arrived makes an early appearance. Judgement Call builds to a magnificent crescendo, proving the lads to be earthly sweet with their three-part harmonies and instrumentally chaotic at just the right moments for frontman Conor O'Brien's poetically dark lyricism. Dedicating the performance to Grant McLennan, Villagers pull out a moving and dreamy set.

The chilled acoustic vibes of Fire fill the air, heralding the arrival of British wunderkind Jake Bugg to the Supertop. The rollicking Kentucky gets the good times truly started and indicates that Bugg lives up to his comparisons to a young Bob Dylan. His set is a boot-scootin', feel-good git-down – even Seen It All's melancholy chord pattern somewhat contrarily lifts spirits. It's an impressive performance from an up-and-coming artist whose best days are almost certainly still ahead of him.

Wrong place, wrong time for Chet Faker. It's the middle of the afternoon at a festival when it should be late night in a bar – stirred, not shaken if you will. Chet sounds great. He performs on keys with shades adorned, images of himself watch emotionlessly from behind the stage while a three-piece band flesh out the additional elements. He draws the set out before dropping big tune I'm Into You and his cover of Blackstreet's No Diggity. People rejoice.

Emerging from an indefinite hiatus, Whitley sits at his keyboard with a mini acoustic guitar, winning over all with the slow-build opener Bright White Lights highlighting a beautiful vocal. Showing off some spunk with the stompy rhythm of newbie TV, his band's five-part harmonies are ethereal as a drum pad boosts the live drums, while some moody mod-rock is inserted with All Is Whole. A huge roar for More Than Life truly welcomes him back; it's gentle, moving and emotive songwriting of this calibre that absolutely proves his worth.

If you are lucky enough to catch one of Otologic's DJ sets, you will understand why the Melbourne duo is garnering such praise down south. Their bowerbird like pilfering from all stages of the modern dance spectrum is crafting its own defined sound, a multicoloured mayhem that is impossible to ignore.

Something For Kate come out of the gates hot, smashing through gloriously intense renditions of Captain (Million Miles An Hour) and Hallways. It's captivating watching Paul Dempsey and Stephanie Ashworth dance like no one is watching, while behind them Clint Hyndman turns his drum kit into pulp, even on the accessible numbers like Deja Vu and Miracle Cure. A cover of Florence and Calvin's Sweet Nothing works seamlessly, and by the end it's clear we've seen one of the day's great sets.

Fucking incredible. There might be a more eloquent way to describe the vibe at MS MR's set, but it wouldn't do them justice. A sonic and visual delight, the New York-based duo are clearly overwhelmed by their full-to-capacity Mix Up crowd. Visibly stoked to be here, almost disbelieving of how much they're appreciated, the band faultlessly delivers an utterly captivating performance spanning songs old (such as Fantasy and Hurricane), new (Think Of You) and covered (a pitch-perfect LCD Soundsystem's Dance Yrself Clean).

Bouncing like a rapper, Cloud Control frontman Alister Wright coordinates an epic opening of robotic chorus harmony, setting an immediate performance vibrancy that lasts the entire set. Slipping in single Dojo Rising early, the quartet are abuzz in the pre-album release glow. Old favourite Meditation Song has an anchoring bassline that is tight, fun and allows keyboardist Heidi Lenffer's vocal to shine. Gold Canary feels like a night out with an old friend, such is the energy of Cloud Control tonight. 

Although recent Cold War Kids single Miracle Mile is an absolute gem, their more recent output has gone under the radar comparatively to the tracks from their debut, Robbers & Cowards. But talking performance value, no one can deny the Californians are still on their game. Sweat pours from their faces, and even in the quieter moments there's still a stomping conviction that goes with every note, showcased no better than during massive singalong Hang Me Up To Dry.

With a wordy intro to explain his enlightenment via experimentations with psychoactive healing medicine ayahuasca, Ben Lee urges the crowd of Global Villagers to “begin the spiritual path and ruin your life”, quipping: “Ruin your career, and ruin your life!” Amongst a cast of eight musos including collaborator Jessica Chapnik Kahn who possesses an arresting vocal, this is a very different Lee than the crafter of acoustic pop we've come to know, but there are still very clear signposts to the singer-songwriter of old. From sparse sample-incorporating noise to acoustic strums and choruses of harmonies, it's different but intriguing.

Pint-sized songstress Sarah Blasko is on fire tonight. The dark undertones and rhythmic toms of I Awake perfectly complement her gorgeous top range and the high, sweeping guitar riffage of its chorus. Blasko has enormous poise and clarity of delivery as she moves with the grace of a ballet dancer across the stage, crouching with an outstretched arm to tease the fence-riders as she sings “Oh come a little closer” in All Of Me. Even a song about death (Not Yet) can be made to sound exquisite, with her take of an epic lightshow teamed with sublime vocal effects closing an impressive set.

Perennial party starter Drapht wastes no time blasting the covers off, bouncing into a set brimming with confidence and verve. He takes his singular status as the only MC/hip hop act at the festival seriously, amped to be able to “represent”, and he smashes through a glut of hits from The Uni-Verse. He loves singing about screaming, a motif that filters across Rapunzel, Prolific and Dreams & Dreamers – and this set brings the house down.

They might have gone the way of FM MOR recently, but Birds Of Tokyo can still wheel out a festival set with all the trimmings. It's big singles end-to-end, with rockier numbers like Broken Bones and Wild At Heart sitting comfortably alongside Plans, Circles and Lanterns. The Matrix-like visuals that are going on behind the Perth band only add to the action, and the five-piece seem genuinely blown away by the response that's thrown back towards them when it all concludes.

The place is already heaving with dancing bodies before young up-and-coming DJ Alison Wonderland drops Fatboy Slim's Right Here, Right Now, but that song sends them into a frenzy. She appears to be having a ball in front of such an enormous crowd and she plays just what they wanna hear through both sets.

The Polyphonic Spree get seriously theatrical with their interpretation of the Rocky Horror Picture Show soundtrack. Band leader Tim DeLaughter fills Frankenfurter's fabulous shoes with seductive aplomb as the sizeable choral pop collective use everything at their disposal to coax the entire tent into a frenzy of gang vocals (Science Fiction Double Feature, Sweet Transvestite), synchronised dancing (Time Warp, duh) and giddy ebullience before delivering a mini gig of their own uplifting material as an encore performance.

Fat Freddy's Drop make no apologies for airing plenty of new material tonight and the crowd doesn't protest, in fact they are utterly in palm of the Kiwi band's hands. There's plenty of chatter from Joe Dukie which fires up the crowd no end, even if it does occasionally take away from the musicianship of the band. But all-in-all the blunted soul of this slick outfit is slammed out with enough energy to make a lot of people very happy.

When Empire Of The Sun performed at Splendour 2010, it all seemed a bit school rock eisteddfod. Now, shit is all kinds of world class. It's a spectacle, with shimmering outfits, dazzling lights and props, while Emperor Steele controls the experience like a pro. The biggest cheers are given to Walking On A Dream and We Are The People, but new cuts like DNA and Celebrate are the winners here. A more positive rave party you're not likely to experience.

Australian music icon Bernard Fanning kicks off his set in familiar territory with Battleships, which is ... fine. Well, there's nothing wrong with it, exactly. The man has a fantastic, rich voice, and his talent is obviously undeniable, but the performance and songs start off a little bland, but flashes of old greatness surface in songs such as Thrill Is Gone and the hugely popular Wish You Well. But it's all music you could listen to with your family. Take that however you want.

Yup... there's Flume. Doing the thing. Playing that hit of his. Oh, and the other ones. Just like he did last year. And that's kind of the problem with the sort of meteoric rise experienced by Harley Streten: he's been playing so many shows for his admittedly strong, widely appreciated self-titled debut album of electronic grooves that he's left himself no time to greatly expand his repertoire. Or maybe he has; it's impossible to tell, honestly.

The National make the world stand still for 90 minutes. Matt Berninger stalks the stage, venting his emotions like he's having an outer body experience, while the brothers Dessner and Devendorf show that bloodlines create a chemistry no amount of practice can obtain. Sea Of Love is jaw-droppingly good, Conversation 16 lingers like a love affair, while Mr. November is furious and sees Berninger screaming frustration while looming over the front row. When they close with Terrible Love the place erupts.

SUNDAY

Sydney/London trio PVT do a commendable job of bringing their appreciative but somewhat flattened crowd out of their shells. Old material is scant – only the jagged churn of Didn't I Furious represents their seminal sophomore O Soundtrack My Heart – but their layered, nuanced, vocalled-up newer material, such as standout efforts Nightfall and Window, is so strong that it doesn't really matter. It's a valiant effort from an incredibly musically intelligent band.

For many, the spring in the step has subsided; now, it's a battle of endurance. Luckily for those that struggle through the gates early to take shelter under the Supertop, they're given a sunny shot of indie pop from The Jungle Giants. Playing easily the biggest show of their young career, the Brisbane four-piece give it their all on stage, and the bouncy beats and digestible riffs are just the ticket.

There's a subdued, chilled crowd vibe to welcome The Chemist to the stage, and they waste no time in aiding to dissipate hangovers with some church organ, snare-driven sounds that work in a harmonica solo. With soaring backing vocals and an urgent, haunting melody, Lullaby #1 (Mercy) is a piece of magic; the Perth outfit are masters of crafting moody pop.

Alpine bring a sizable crowd early to the Mix Up tent, their hypnotic indie-pop an alluring prospect to bliss out on. The double helix that is Lou James and Phoebe Baker's harmonics are dynamic, providing moments of spellbinding awe (such as the summit of Secret). Their appearance here as opposed to the Supertent is perplexing, but this set suggests they will be plumbing the bigger stage soon enough.

Sunday afternoons are usually chilled affairs, and Florida natives Surfer Blood aim to provide the perfect soundtrack. Nevertheless, apart from some standout tracks (including breakout single Swim and 2011's Miranda), the four-piece are a strangely bland prospect, regardless of lead John Paul Pitt's intermittent wails. There are many bands that could have offered the right level of relaxed angularity here – yet Surfer Blood isn't one of them.

It's a surprisingly confident and able introduction to the world of festivals from Tyler Touche, the 17-year-old rising star behind the kind of infuriating but nonetheless respectable Baguette. He certainly has a penchant and obvious knack for infectious disco, and he displays remarkable versatility as an entertainer, especially given his pre-legal-drinking-age status. It's an uplifting, energetic scene, and Touche can go home proud of a job well done.

Lush harmonies, rich and sweet melodies and a folksy Irish likability are the sum of indie outfit Little Green Cars' parts. In their debut Splendour performance, they deliver a polished and assured set filled with vocal swells, cascading dynamics, introspection and extroversion, all to the audible delight of the buzzing crowd in attendance. Their response is never so big as for triple j mainstay Harper Lee, but it's a solid run all up from these certified next big things.

LA nutjobs FIDLAR were handing out cassettes on their skateboards only eighteen months ago – how things change. The four-piece roar through an uncompromising set that is perfectly placed between rambunctious garage punk, bubblegum punk and squalling psych punk. So punk, then. Zac Carper is a whirling dervish, an incredibly manic presence, yet his bandmates hold equal attention. Surfing, speed, LSD, rehab, paychecks, stupidity – FIDLAR brought everything, and left nothing behind. A balltearing set.

The shimmering sun-soaked pop of The Bamboos is just what's in order if one wants to get the limbs moving early on a Sunday afternoon, and today they play with the kind of slick genius we've come to expect from them. Ainslie Wills on Step It Up and the mighty Tim Rogers on I Got Burned are definite wins, but mainstay vocalist Kylie Auldist's rendition of Frank Ocean's Lost is the highlight of a stunning set.

The crowd, time and stage has aligned to offer a near perfect festival moment as Sunshine Coast outfit OKA soothe and energise in equal doses with their well-constructed set of chill out tunes. Inserting a variety of instrumentation including sax and guitar and with a live drummer bolstering the beats and samples from the desk of main man DidgeriStu, they're eclectic, vital and fun.

Snakadaktal don't appear to be aware that they are playing a festival set today; they insert unhurried tracks with barely audible atmospheric vocals and do little to improve the mood until Dance Bear becomes the only moment that resembles a highlight. They're only youngsters who will almost certainly improve with age, but today's effort has been largely dull and poorly constructed.

The Marshall stacks lining the stage are formidable. Airbourne mean business. Ready To Rock comes at you with the force of a hurricane and the rest of the set proves equally as destructive. Shirtless with a mess of hair, Joel O'Keeffe pumps his fists, kicks his leg out and shreds his vocals, while on either side of him David Roads (guitar) and Justin Street (bass) run sprints back and forwards relentlessly. By the end, most faces in the crowd have completely melted off.

Manchurians Everything Everything bring their odd blend of syncopated auxiliary percussion and vocal harmonising to the fore on what is an affecting set as twilight hits. Recent tracks Cough Cough and Kemosabe glisten with ingenuity and invention, yet such invention doesn't always hold out across this brace of songs. That said, the band hold sway throughout, a confident deliverance of pop that is daring to be different.

Coming in at the last minute, the latest chanteuse on the block Lorde could have been forgiven for getting the stage jitters. The exact opposite transpires, the 16-year-old delivering an extremely accomplished performance. The crowd is huge, overflowing the parameters of the Supertent, and the noise that rises when singles Tennis Court and especially Royals land is impressive. Ella Yelich-O'Connor may not be a household name, but this set is the golden ticket to a massive future for the artist.

Gurrumul is always a treat and he's in high spirits this evening, whooping at the wondrous applause he's given after every song and commanding a playful call and response from an adoring crowd during crocodile ode Baru. In his Yolngu language he works through reggae and rock themes with even a little country swing as his bassist and musical director Michael Hohnen explains themes from Indigenous life most Australians will never get to witness. Closer Gurrumul History (I Was Born Blind) is a solemn and touching reminder to count one's blessings.

A packed Supertop greets The Rubens, and both opener The Day You Went Away and the bluesy organ and easy pace of Elvis elicit a spirited cheer from the crowd. The melancholy Look Good, Feel Good marks another technically strong showing, as does wildly popular closer My Gun. It's hard to fault the set of harmless pop from a performance standpoint, but, honestly, a show this size is (or should be) still a little beyond their ambitious reach.

A bass drone explodes into a mammoth drum loop that welcomes instrumental hip hop masters Hermitude to the stage, opening track Engage a familiar sound to those who've been slamming their Australian Music Prize winning HyperParadise LP. All Of You follows immediately and from there these two incredible musicians just lay waste. It must be hard to make this look impressive on the live stage, but stunning lights, intuitive camera angles and sheer onstage energy makes this something to behold.

What So Not? So what? This is a DJ set, like every other DJ set this weekend, one that is – despite the high-profile names behind the hype – basically just meaningless filler for people raving so hard all they can feel are the bass drops and the primal pulse of otherwise utterly forgettable music. You could see this at a club on any night of the week.

The Drones are probably not suited to this sort of shindig – their music is too visceral, dark and emotive (and probably good) for the majority of attendees – but they don't let this stop them delivering a typically raucous set, kicking off with the powerful I See Seaweed, frontman Gareth Liddiard contorting and writhing as he delivers the dense tracts of words. Their intensity somehow suits the muddy surrounds, tracks like How To See Through Fog, The Minotaur, Laika and Kev Carmody's River Of Tears sounding incredible. Shark Fin Blues sounds typically amazing and when they finish a stellar set with the evergreen I Don't Ever Want To Change one can only hope that a few new Drones fans have been created tonight.

Keeping the 'Mystery Band' joke up by walking out to Daft Punk's Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger, Alt-J dot the stage beneath banners reflecting the futuristic molten of their debut's cover art. Intro, Tessellate and Something Good link to create a captivating first 15 minutes, Joe Newman's voice sounds awkwardly divine and the rhythm patterns of drummer Thom Green pop from the skins. The British quartet's cover mash-up of Kylie Minogue and Dr Dre (Slow Dre) further endears them to an already enraptured audience.

Young Londoner James Blake has a voice from the heavens. When he holds those long notes on The Wilhelm Scream and Overgrown it makes your heart swell. Freaky dance moves are thrown in the crowd, people trying their hardest to match the wonderful lounge/soul/future bass collisions happening on stage. A full kit for the drummer to work on means the tracks sound musclier live, but as the night air cools, Limit To Your Love still holds all the majestic nature one hopes for.

You Am I return to play Hi Fi Way in full. The quartet (joined by The Drones' Steve Hesketh) is in even higher spirits tonight – Rusty Hopkinson proves why he is the centrifugal force behind Rogers' rugged bluster and Kent's concrete bass. Jewels & Bullets, Minor Byrd, Purple Sneakers – it's almost hard to discern one hit from the next. A cover of The Who's Young Man Blues brings the (justified) vintage arrogance; and another, punchier rendition of Berlin Chair close out the perfect celebration for Australia's most undervalued rock band.

Passion Pit give Splendour a big musical hug, and we happily nuzzle on their shoulder. The Massachusetts band arguably would have provided a more fitting end to the festival than Of Monsters And Men, but we digress. They don't miss one cue while frontman Michael Angelakos roams the stage with his now typecast double-handed microphone clutch and crouch. The Reeling explodes thanks to a crowd screaming the hook back at the band, while other hits Take A Walk and To Kingdom Come radiate warmly.

“This better not be like Lana Del Rey!” shouts a drunken punter heading to see British indie-folk songstress Laura Marling close the GW McLennan tent, and he is no doubt happy to take in her animated banter and the singalong charm of easy to enjoy tracks including Ghosts as she giggles through the distraction of others shouting “I love you Laura!” Master Hunter is a highlight, as is her upbeat command of the audience throughout a lively and confident solo set.

Electro's not dead – it's just been getting abused in The Presets' basement. Julian Hamilton sends out pulses with his trademark dark tone, and right behind/beside him running partner Kim Moyes keeps the beat like a metronome. Intensity levels gradually rise before a packed tent goes into full-blown meltdown with the minimal pump of Youth In Trouble and the bold statement of party, My People. By the time Are You The One? unloads, the whole Mix Up space has descended into chaos.

Thanks to Frank No-Show, Iceland's Of Monsters and Men have been entrusted to lock the gates on Splendour 2013, and the rugged-up group of friends seem honoured. The guy-girl vocal balance is perfect, and although there's longing and reflection, for the most part it's a celebration. From Finner brings with it jaunty rhythms, while Mountain Sound dances gleefully. The biggest response, though, is saved for King And Lionheart and Little Talks. So delightful it almost makes you forget about the rain now dumping.

So there you have it – despite the early new site teething problems Splendour In The Grass is once more a triumph of good music and good times. Bring on Splendour '14!

Dan Condon, Ben Doyle, Mitch Knox, Tyler McLoughlan, Jack Steven, Brendan Telford