MEREDITH - MEREDITH SUPERNATURAL AMPITHEATRE - 09-11/12/11

Every December, Christmas comes a couple of weeks early for 11,000-odd music lovers at the fabulous Meredith Music Festival. This year we dust off the camping gear and load up the wagons in anticipation of perhaps the most rock-oriented MMF in recent years. Once the line is negotiated, the trailer searched for stowaways, campsite-deciding arguments settled and tents are up, the only thing to do is rustle up a beverage of choice and meander down to the lush green grass of the Supernatural Amphitheatre for the first time in months. Ah, how we’ve missed you.

Local heroes King Gizzard & The Lizard Wizard are given opening duties this year and the Geelong contingent of the crowd goes berserk. The band’s straight-up, though ever-so-slightly psychedelic, pub tunes draw an energetic and shirtless throng in seconds. Some wind damage and first-band issues with the mix render the right side of stage less than ideal. But hey, the sun is defying the shoddy weather predictions and the band manage to slam home a decent opening effort.

All nine pieces of Cash Savage & The Last Drinks ooze genuine affection for this festival and Savage looks at home on her fave festival stage. The double-drumming back section of the band give a surprising visual treat and, though a fair contingent of the King Gizzard crew have toddled off to smash some beer bongs at their cars, the amphitheatre is lost in this wondrous layering of instrumentation and Savage’s matchless vocal timbre. CS&TLD exemplify the commitment this festival has always had to excellent local country music, and the band set an early bar for this year’s musical entries.

Unknown Mortal Orchestra hit the stage around the time the sun loses its afternoon sting and they manage to replace it with a bit of venom of their own. Forget the wildly popular radio tunes you may have caught in recent months, UMO deliver revamped and decidedly more menacing versions of their otherwise erratic pop numbers. There are hints of Ruban Nielson’s previous band The Mint Chicks glimmering through but this material dazzles in comparison. Penultimate tune Boy Witch’s tempo shifts crackle through the early-evening air and the extended guitar solo can only be described as epic.

It’s pretty hard not to buy in to the hype surrounding Kurt Vile & The Violators and that brings a certain air of expectation. It might be the vocal-drenched mix (in a very Dylan- or Hendrix-esque way, his voice is far from his greatest asset), it might be the late-afternoon lag; whatever it is, Vile’s performance misses the mark. There is still a fair bit to take from it – some of the best drumming of the day and Freak Train could be the song of the festival – but the performance strolls for too long before lumbering into a fast walk.

If there’s one thing that Explosions In The Sky do well, it’s rock worlds without saying too much. The instrumental group play one hell of an inspired set full of building crescendos, barely controlled chaos and an all-round glorious experience. Somewhat channelling The Dirty Three’s 2004 Saturday night set (minus the lightning), the Texan group leave absolutely nothing behind in delivering the goods. It’s a set that sees more than a few boots/thongs/cans raised in the air, and proves a mesmerising high point thus far.

Wandering down Highway To Hell, there’s a dude sporting a sparkly silver three-piece suit. He’s rapt with it and gushes of this online purchase, “It only cost $175” – what a rip! Pyros and sparks shooting from axes lure us toward Barbarion. A seven-piece who resemble extras from a movie version of the Asterix comic, sporting Viking hats and exposing hairy backs, their bio also promises: “The heaviest band in Melbourne – a combined weight of nearly 700kgs.” The Supernatural Amphitheatre is no stranger to novelty acts but, unlike the likes of Airbourne, these guys don’t have the songs or musical ability to seize our attention longer than a couple of songs once the initial wow factor of flames and onstage fire hazards wears off.

Up next is adopted Kiwi, Pip Brown (AKA Ladyhawke). After a packed warm-up show at the Tote earlier last week, Ladyhawke showcases some excellent new material on the Meredith stage: The catchy, vocal-percussion hook of the title track from her forthcoming Anxiety set proves particularly immediate. Brown always looks effortlessly hot on stage – heavily made up and in casual, manly get-up – but once you’ve processed this there’s little to draw your attention stageward. The sing-along appeal of the likes of My Delirium, Back Of The Van and Paris Is Burning cannot be denied, however.

Future Of The Left destroy the crowd with Small Bones Small Bodies and barely take a breath for the ensuing 45 minutes. Their Friday-night headline spot is justified as programming genius as they deliver a masterclass in musical subversion and complete emersion. Arming Eritrea, You Need Satan More Than He Needs You and brand newie Polymers Are Forever shine, but it’s Manchasm that brings it to fever pitch. Mclusky’s Lightsabre Cocksucking Blues and To Hell With Good Intentions close the thing out and, though remarkable in themselves, you’d almost say they didn’t need to play them. Could FOTL be better than Mclusky? This festival-defining set certainly suggests so.

By the time Gang Gang Dance take to the stage, all hell is breaking loose. Memories are being spilled like the contents of an esky when the dude surfing it loses his shit, but on stage the Manhattan group do all kinds of crazy business to keep the punters happy. Throwing down their own brand of experimental tunes, theirs is a set full of raucous appreciation, and for those in the crowd who aren’t totally incapacitated (or trying to mack on with the hottie next to them), the appreciation is mutual.

DAY TWO
Phew, it’s hot! The breeze that filters through Top Camp is to die for, but the same can’t be said for the sticky Bush Camp conditions. There’s a definite butterfly epidemic and we dread stepping on the lovely creatures while nursing sore heads and staggering toward sustenance. Ballarat Municipal Brass Band present “quite a selection of numbers” including Europe’s The Final Countdown and a medley they label ‘_Queen Rules_’ is surely a new addition to their repertoire – clashing brass notes sound like what the inside of our scones feel like. That old jazz standard Caravan proves a highlight and Bob takes it away on cornet.

First up on Saturday morning is a coveted timeslot here at Meredith, with ex-participants of this time going on to bigger and better things (see Wolfmother, Ground Components etc). Local duo Oscar + Martin coax the sleepy-eyed crowd from their tents with their glitch and harmonies, providing those lining up for coffees and breakfast with a thought-provoking soundtrack. Full of guests but lacking continued stage presence, the set is a mixed bag, which is surprising given their album For You is so consistently strong.

The Rechords rock us around the clock at midday and all embrace the trip down memory lane this trio bring. Upright bass equals irresistible. If the term ‘rock chick’ ever makes it into the dictionary, it should be accompanied by a picture of Geelong-reared Adalita. “Hey! How the fuck are ya?” she yells. During Hot Air, a punter waves a crutch in the air and Adalita cheerfully waves back. She’s correct, JP Shiloh is “fucking amazing” on guitar. Adalita’s late Magic Dirt bandmate Dean Turner’s two daughters, Charlie and Evie, are invited to the stage for a dance. As Adalita spins on her back while playing guitar, the two little cowgirls with AAA lanyards take turns jumping over her. Dear Aunty Meredith, please book Adalita for future Supernatural Amphitheatre loving.

Self-confessed “new old guys on the block”, Off! launch their rumbling riff attack on the hillside to devastating effect. A contender for this year’s MMF ridiculous award goes to the two dudes dressed up as Lycra dinosaurs who tie their tails together for some spontaneous tug o’ war. Snappy dresser Joelistics follows, winning many new fans. His ode to recent visitor to our shores Dolly Parton, via Jolene sampling, is a treat to sing along with. Asking us to vote for his song Glorious Feeling in this year’s Hottest 100? This festival has a “no dickheads” policy, remember.

For punters contemplating whether a stroll to the amphitheatre would be worth it in the late afternoon, hearing the haunting(ly beautiful) Scarecrow from everyone’s favourite local horror-country band Graveyard Train would surely clinch the deal. If not the set of the festival, then surely one of the best Saturday afternoon shows in recent memory, both audience and band give their all. The group’s members have been attending Meredith for years, and the satisfaction in seeing them get The Boot during their set is palpable – both on stage and off.

Next up is another Texan powerhouse, Black Joe Lewis & The Honeybears. It is surprising to see them given a daytime timeslot, given the horn-laden funky stylings, but here they are in front of an audience who are more than happy to lap it up. There’s enough room to swing a cat at the front of the stage, which equals plenty of room to shake some serious booty. On stage, Black Joe Lewis commands his band with equal parts swagger and soul, and not even some dodgy sound quality can detract from a killer set.

There’s no fanfare or fucking about when Mudhoney hit the stage. Following the fabulous Black Joe Lewis & The Honey Bears could break a lesser act but with Suck You Dry as a set opener, Mudhoney have the already warmed-up rabble – and by now we are most certainly that – eating from their callused hands. As the heavens open for the first time Touch Me I’m Sick brings the crowd to its collective rock-loving knees, but when Keith Morris (Off!, Circle Jerks, Black Flag) appears onstage, the gravity of what’s going down really hits home.

At what other festival would you see a naked guy sporting wookie headwear hurtling down a DIY, garbage bag-constructed slippery slide as revellers toss the contents of their BYO bevos his way? Securing front row for Icehouse, it’s satisfying to see an LED-lit backdrop and various other specialty lighting rigs. As soon as the band take to the stage, it’s apparent we’re in for a treat – they sound absolutely phenomenal and the synchronised guitar playing of Iva Davies and Paul Gildea is unparalleled. Opening with Icehouse, Icehouse get Electric Blue outta the way early and then Hey Little Girl is simply sublime. Davies introduces Cross The Border, a song the band wrote after touring Germany pre fall of the Berlin Wall when their manager almost got them shot. Walls is a sprawling beast of a track where synths are mercilessly attacked by duelling guitars come the chorus. Outstanding. A celebration of this iconic Australian band who fittingly close their set tonight with Great Southern Land.

There’s suddenly a very obvious changeover in demographic (perhaps even an entire generation) for pole position. The wacky maze/sobriety test entrance to Pink Flamingo Bar becomes increasingly challenging as the night progresses. Was it like this last night? Cut Copy have spent the majority of this year satisfying their American fanbase and must be chuffed to be following one of their influences on the Meredith schedule. The intro into opener Take Me Over sounds very much like the band are about to tackle a take on Blue Monday. Dapper frontman Dan Whitford’s not exactly a natural-born singer and his voice sounds a tad strained tonight, perhaps suffering by comparison to Davies. Pharoahs & Pyramid_s must be experienced live to be believed and special guest percussionists from Midnight Juggernauts bring added mayhem. Whitford’s liturgical gestures conduct the rainfall during _Hearts On Fire and closer Lights & Music is still Cutters’ secret weapon of mass destruction.

Caterwauling onstage in full wolf-man mode, Nick Cave summons the total lunar eclipse from song one: Mickey Mouse & The Goodbye Man – “WahOOooooo!” Grinderman leave the crowd swaying, lurching and gasping throughout their entire set as the band obediently follow Cave’s unpredictable lead. Highlights include but are not limited to: Martyn Casey’s sinewy Heathen Child bassline; Honey Bee (Let’s Fly To Mars) with Cave’s demented, one-handed keys playing and vocal hissing; and No Pussy Blues, which is something we doubt Cave has ever actually experienced. The frontman launches from the stage to the crowd barrier with alarming speed, rapidly scaling it while a security guard maintains a firm hold on the back of his belt to rein him in where necessary. Chastising countless victims throughout Kitchenette, Cave points his finger in many voracious faces. Simultaneously terrifying and tantalising, Cave embodies the demon Seed and many are gutted when he announces this gig marks the end of Grinderman. Cue Arrested Development-style ‘sad walk’ back to the campsite.

It’s late, those who crashed early are staying crashed in their tents, and down at the amphitheatre all hell is breaking loose. New Orleans diva Big Freedia is on stage with her dancers and the booty that is being shaken is, well, bloody awesome. There’s a sense that no one, not even Girl Talk a few years back, rocked the stage with that much ass as is being witnessed tonight. The tunes are certainly not everyone’s cup of pink flamingo, but hot damn! Watching a dozen scantily clad women shake what their mommas gave them at 2.30am at Meredith is certainly something to stay up late for.

DAY THREE
Just when you’re backslapping your Meredith crew with calls of ‘best Meredith ever’, along comes a quietly spoken humble genius to blow away what’s left of your fragile little mind. Frank Fairfield contorts his body like a mantis as he fiddles, plucks and stomps out some fine bluegrass and country blues. From his chair, he dances his feet to stomp out the percussion on what could only be a mic’d floor (!?). Via three beaten-up instruments and delightful songwriting smarts, Fairfield brings at least a thousand smiles to the dishevelled masses.

Perth’s Abbe May conveys her dirty rock at 12 o’clock. Festival casualties surprise themselves by finding an extra energy reserve and nod along. She sure can play guitar and, once May’s learned how to conceal technical difficulties (of which there are several today), nothing will stop her. What’s that? She’s already had a song (Mammalian Locomotion) synced to Entourage end credits? The world is her oyster. Bloody Meredith from Pink Flamingo Bar? Check. Wait half an hour and then get a free breath test from Vanessa? Check. Pass mandatory breath test via booze bus stationed on the road towards Melbourne? Check. Resist urge to look in tissue after blowing nose? Impossible.

Bryget Chrisfield, Samson McDougall and Dylan Stewart

Playing at Meredith Music Festival

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