Live Review: Golden Plains 2019
"What a damn fine festival this is."
Day One
By Sam Wall
The early bird gets the shady campsite and our convoy is off and away at 4am, a time of day that should be made illegal. Promptness proves its own reward, however, when we completely bypass the usual car queue and find ourselves set-up and ready to GP by eight. That leaves plenty of time to freshen up, caffeinate and make our way down to the festival's extremely emotional Welcome to Country from
The vibe is close-knit and communal from the get-go. Someone from our camp dropped their phone in the Amphitheatre at 8.30am and had it back from lost and found by quarter past nine. Shout out to Dom Stuart for handing it in - top-notch etiquette from an extremely good egg - something that seems par for the course from the general festival contingent.
It seems weird to have Shannon & The Clams up first - the Cali outfit could absolutely sneak a few slots up the bill - but they turn out to be an inspired choice. Their surfy psych doo-wop is bright and jangly, just the thing to distract ‘Sup-ers from their sleep deprivation as they get settled into day one. Ozma is a highlight and they close on a massive cover of Jefferson Airplane’s White Rabbit, Shannon Shaw doing Grace Slick proud. Wild behaviour this early in the day.
Shannon & The Clams.
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“It’s the Raw Humps, baby,” shares singer Pierre Ailion, and his delivery couldn’t be more Bootsy Collins. They’re an unknown element on today’s line-up but they’re here to make an impression. Anyone who hangs out for their “psychedelic pagan soul god shit” definitely won’t forget them in a hurry anyway. There are about ten people on stage, give or take, not including the Dementor-looking pair of cloaked hype-people waving huge flags with the band’s name. Proponents of art as a form of resistance, their hyper-charged funk is a weapon and they aren’t afraid to stick it in your face - not least on Hands Off, an anti-sexual assault funk banger (“Put your hands in the air/Keep your hands where I can see ‘em.”).
Raw Humps.
Flohio draws the first full crowd and the change in the vibe is massive as the Amphitheatre packs out. She says it best herself, “The energy’s on beast mode. I love beast mode.” She and her DJ lead the groovers in the crowd by example, throwing themselves back and forth across the stage during 10 More Rounds and Bands.
Flohio.
From his records, you’d think Rhye would put on a fairly mellow live show, so it’s a pleasant surprise just how meaty his set is. He posts up behind a standing drum kit for most of it, backed by a full band - including a cellist and a violinist who’s partial to a bit of pizzicato. The bass on Taste is super bottom-heavy, the track downright slinky. There’s a lot of shoes in the air as the song wraps with an extended instrumental jam. It seems to confuse the man himself a little and he holds his own shoe up in response.
Rhye.
Man, Marlon Williams’ mullet is getting outta control. Most of his setlist tonight comes from last year’s excellent, heartbroken Make Way For Love LP – Come To Me, What’s Chasing You, etc. He’s an arresting performer, staring down the front rows with serious intensity during Dark Child and oozing brooding, anxious energy on Can I Call You. His jaw-dropping croon on a cover of Bee Gee’s I Started A Joke is a legitimate Rat Pack moment. Portrait Of A Man has become a standard addition of his set and the moment the Screamin’ Jay Hawkins track starts up, the shoes return skyward in droves.
Marlon Williams.
We had no idea how much we’d been hankering for some good old fashioned, fuzzed-out grunge rock until Magic Dirt hit the stage. They shred through a stack of classics like Supertear, All My Crushes, I Was Cruel, She-Riff and Dirty Jeans, Adalita Srsen breaking in the middle to share a dedication to the outfit’s deceased original bassist, Dean Turner. It’s a moving moment and we’d swear it was raining in the ‘Sup for the briefest moment there.
Magic Dirt.
The multi-coloured lanterns suspended over the ‘Sup are finally giving off a multicolour glow, and the day’s dust is wiped away to clear some skin for fresh glitter. The stage is flooded with light, making silhouettes of Victoria Legrand and Alex Scally, and Beach House's blissed-out dream pop couldn't be more perfect to see the night in. Their dramatic synth wash is like aural aloe vera on our overstimulated brains and we sway on the spot happily as it renews us.
Beach House.
Acid Mothers Temple & The Melting Paraiso UFO, on the other hand, are loud in a way that’s physical assaulting. The sheer volume they produce leaves eardrums in tatters. Almost imperceptibly the wall of sound shifts though, softening into mantric repetition, chords circling hypnotically and highlighted by alien synth warbles. Then they're back to soundtracking the cochlea-melting psychedelic death and rebirth of the universe. It's a set of huge peaks and troughs and every one of them is a glorious trip.
Acid Mothers Temple & The Melting Paraiso UFO.
The Internet's Patrick Paige II and Christopher Smith make a seriously soulful rhythm section. Steve Lacy and Sydney Bennett definitely draw the most attention - and they are magnetic out in front - but it's Paige II and Smith that stoke the final fading scraps of energy in the Amphitheatre and light a fire under the crowd's arse. Just Sayin/I Tried is a standout, Bennett prepping everyone to take part in the track's ex-dragging lyrics. After singing, "You fucked up!" back to Bennett, it's time to get while the getting's still a possibility. We beeline to our sleeping bags and leave more ambitious revellers to shake it among the couches until Silence Is Golden.
The Internet.
Day Two
By Joe Dolan
As the sun ascends over the remnants of last night’s festivities, a healthy slew of early risers wander down to the ‘Sup to catch the chilled out vibes of Gregor. Backed by a seven-piece band including marimba and accordion, the Melbourne artist has transitioned into a sensational blend of ‘80s jangle and indie-pop. Gregor’s Mark E Smith-inspired vocal styling meets the composition of Bahamas and Jens Lekman in a beautiful marriage of clever lyricism and ethereal musicianship.
After day one’s incredible Welcome to Country, DRMNGNOW continues to evoke the power of this Indigenous Land with vivid imagery through hip hop and poetry. The artist (known offstage as Neil Morris) is unapologetically and superbly outspoken with his love for his country and disdain for the effects of sovereignty on his land. Nowhere is this more prevalent than in Australia Does Not Exist, which highlights Morris’ incredible ability to blend heady beats with powerful words.
DRMNGNOW.
The storm clouds begin to drift overhead as the synth-pop shoegazing of Hatchie kicks off the afternoon. As the Brisbane born songstress delights with the oh-so-‘90s-inspired Without A Blush, punters batten down the hatches of their campsites and don the compulsory plastic ponchos in anticipation for some rainy times ahead. Sure enough, the heavens open as the legendary Liz Phair takes to the stage. “We’re gonna battle this together,” she cheekily asserts, before running through a cavalcade of hits from her illustrious back catalogue. Rounding out the set with an epically powerful rendition of her hit track Fuck & Run, the clouds part almost in sync to the final ringing chords of a truly underrated performance.
Hatchie.
Taking a sharp turn in the proceedings, Geelong garage punks The Living Eyes hit the scene with a big bang of distortion and feedback. The quartet do their style proud, running through each song as if they have somewhere else to be, and having a bloody good time while they do it. As if that weren’t enough variety for the afternoon, the mid arvo slot falls to the veteran of Motor City funk and soul, Amp Fiddler. A stalwart of Detroit’s R&B dynasty, Joseph Fiddler’s one-man funk party sees an impromptu breakout of crowd dancing and grooving the likes of which were yet to be seen at the Plains this year. Just a man at the decks, his love for music and performing pours out from the stage and washes over the bodies of every single person in attendance. Fiddler brought a slice of his Michigan home all the way to the country Victorian Amphitheatre.
The Living Eyes.
Continuing this trend, SK Simeon transplants some rich African reggae seamlessly into the outback. A joyous master of dub and beats, Simeon is a constantly grinning delight to watch. His call and response with the crowd earns him a huge number of lifted boots, with Round Of Applause seeing plenty of booty-shaking from the Melbourne-based artist and his audience alike. With punters on the verge of dance-induced exhaustion, London electronica DJ Four Tet lifts the energy once more with a techno party of gargantuan proportions. A recent inductee to the prestigious Ministry Of Sound catalogue, Four Tet astounds with perfect blends of house and drum'n'bass. Only Human, the aforementioned MOS release, sees the DJ lift the crowd to new heights of musical bliss, and as the sun begins to fall, that bliss just keeps on rising.
SK Simeon.
It is truly astonishing, downright mind-blowingly ridiculous, that Khruangbin only boasts three members. The psychedelic sounds of the Texas trio come in waves of flawless bass lines, perfect riffs, and incredible drum fills. Guitarist Mark Speer does what entire bands could only dream of, creating vast soundscapes with plaintive eyes scarcely visible under an incredible Sia-esque fringe. The very serious-looking DJ Johnson Jr hits the drums with effortless swagger, and bassist Laura Lee is a romper-clad powerhouse of groovy undertones (also with fringe). The crowd are electric as People Everywhere (Still Alive) causes uproarious applause, with the three-piece melding genres left, right and centre, all with absolute perfection.
Khruangbin.
While it may be a month early, the shimmering introduction of April Skies gives The Jesus & Mary Chain an immediate hold on their audience like no other. The Scottish icons of the alt scene explode under a dizzying array for lights and blaring rock sounds, the silhouette of frontman Jim Reid towering over the crowd. While Reid is reportedly struggling with a lung infection, his vocals are as raw and emotional as ever. With his brother and band co-founder William on guitar, the singer still delivers an astounding performance. When the moment finally hits, the seminal Just Like Honey is both a sight and sound to behold, while closing track Can’t Stop The Rock from 2017’s Damage & Joy holds just as much power as the tunes from over 30 years ago.
The Jesus & Mary Chain.
As a drizzle begins to fall once again, an unmistakable Mancunian drawl echoes from the stage. “Fookin ‘ell! We sound like a proper band tonight, eh!”
It’s clear that Shaun Ryder has lost none of his charm in recent years as Happy Mondays bring with them their trademark boom of Madchester brilliance. With vocalist Rowetta Idah providing an incredible harmonious addition to the band, Ryder does what he does best, hammering out the vocals without a care in the world. There’s something remarkable about watching the band live: they’ve got so much cool in their back pocket that what should be tacky and embarrassing is, somehow, still legitimately brilliant. Even Mark "Bez" Berry, resident maraca player/dancer, is now in his 50s, and yet his part in the band is just as vitally entertaining as ever. While the Mondays’ biggest hit, Step On, comes at a slightly awkward mid-point in the proceedings, the reaction from the crowd shows that these guys still know what they’re doing. Ryder, you’ve twisted their melons, man.
Happy Mondays.
Rarely does an act appear twice in the same decade at Golden Plains, but Confidence Man left such a mark on their debut in 2017 that the duo are already back on stage for their second GP show. With infinite energy, contagious tunes, and a multitude of costumes that literally lit up the stage, Sugar Bones and Janet Planet lead the charge from a new wave in performance pop. The insanely catchy Bubblegum is an instant set highlight as the duo give beyond their all with all the vigour of a festival of its own. They’ll easily be back for round three very soon.
Confidence Man.
As DJs Danny Krivit, DJ Harvey and Millu & Pjenne, close out Golden Plains for another year, the cornerstones of amity, generosity and plain old good times have been well and truly grasped with a friendly fist. What a damn fine festival this is.
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