Live Review: Download

Waking early Saturday morning, the usually soothing sound of rain on the roof is less so when a day of braving the elements lies ahead. However, the wet weather doesn't seem to do much to dampen the spirits of the thousands of black-clad revellers en route to Melbourne's inaugural Download Festival. As the train glides toward Flemington, memories of countless Big Day Out and Soundwave journeys come flooding back: the chatter on the carriage, studying the timetables, the little belly flickers of excitement as the festival site came into view. In the elephant graveyard that is the large scale touring festival, will Download be Australia's last great hope?

High Tension open the main stage, with Karina Utomo's bone-shredding roar greeting the early-comers who brave the pouring rain and line the barrier. Over on the Avalanche stage, Melbourne punks Clowns make the most of the only covered stage in the festival and completely tear the roof off it. The band is on a dizzying trajectory and a must-see live act before they inevitably disappear overseas.

As the weather begins to improve, it's time to explore the set-up for the day. The first (and, in some opinions, most important) thing we notice is the blessed abundance of toilet facilities; it is Porta-Potty heaven. The food options are also numerous, diverse and delicious. Long gone are the days of sweaty chips, unnaturally orange hot dogs and soggy burgers, in their place are fragrant falafels, Korean BBQ delights and juicy tacos. Large spaces of picnic seating allow punters the opportunity to catch their breath, eat and have a beer while still being able to take in a band; this seating is especially handy today when the ground underfoot is wet. 

The next couple of hours are a crash course in metal subgenres, beginning with Sabaton. The Swedes play a set of battle-ready anthems, buoyed on by the enthusiastic crowd. The sun finally cracks through as Gojira perform a powerful set punctuated by smoke and flames. In this setting, it's appropriate that vocalist Joe Duplantier appears to have the portal to hell in his throat. Although the competition is fierce, they are the loudest band of the afternoon and their crowd response is nothing short of worshipful. Having only listened to them infrequently prior to Download, they are now at the top of this writer's playlist.

Viking metal gods Amon Amarth have fans holding their drinks aloft, as the afternoon sun beats down brutally. One over-heated guy cuts his jeans into jorts, another girl removes her thigh high socks and swings them like damp nunchucks. Every person wearing vinyl here should be handed a medal (and possibly a shoehorn to assist with removal of said vinyl items later). At the conclusion of Amon Amarth's set, a stretch of the neck is in order for many windmilling metalheads.

Mastodon's set is as lumbering and thumping as their namesake, and Troy Sanders' howl echoes all the way to the Avalanche stage where The Story So Far are in the middle of regretting acknowledging the crowd's chant of "shoey, shoey!" Dodging several shoes and a hail of cans, singer Parker Cannon exclaims, "You crazy cunts!" before wishing everyone a fun and safe day. Ironic for someone who once fly kicked a fan off the stage, no?

The spirit of the day is beginning to show on the walk back to the main stage, with a group of black-clad metal lords skipping across the grass as Mastodon's Sanders' booms, "I'm glad you got a festival back, it's great to be back here." There is time for one more taco before Good Charlotte perform. On paper, scheduling Good Charlotte directly after Mastodon is a sick joke. Indeed, there is a moment when a group of people nearby ponder whether they will be eaten alive. But these concerns for the welfare of the Madden brothers are unfounded as they attract a whopping audience who froth like a kicked-over beer. It's a fun set of old favourites, which is unfortunately marred by terrible sound. Whether due to the wind picking up or possibly standing in a disadvantageous position, the majority of Joel Madden's words are an indecipherable mush.

Limp Bizkit continue to bring the nostalgia, especially for two women who perform the entire Rollin' choreography in synch while bemused punters look on. They sound every bit as excellent as your 16-year-old self hoped they would. My Way and Break Stuff explode the already-frenzied mosh, while in other pockets discussion turns to guitarist Wes Borland and his choice of 'is it, isn't it blackface' attire, painting himself jet black from head to toe. Love them or mock them, Limp Bizkit tear the place apart. 

Prophets Of Rage assemble onstage like a goddamn musical equivalent of The Avengers. An air-raid siren wails and from the moment drummer Brad Wilk counts in Prophets Of Rage, the band completely storm the fucking gates. Prophets are transfixing to watch, guitarist Tom Morello whirls and kicks around the stage like an out-of-control helicopter and B-Real adjourns to the crowd to throw down some Cypress Hill complete with one of the largest joints this writer has ever seen. When DJ Lord drops the beat for Insane In The Brain, there is not a still limb in the place. Rage Against The Machine cuts Take The Power Back and Sleep Now In The Fire hit the pit like missiles, taking on a new resonance with the current abysmal state of international politics. Public Enemy's Chuck D is a powerhouse, with the lyrical delivery of a machine gun.

All but Morello, Wilk and bassist Tim Commerford leave the stage as they pay tribute to their late Audioslave bandmate Chris Cornell. Morello turns a lone, spot-lit microphone to the audience and invites us to sing as they begin to play Like A Stone. A flash of lightning illuminates the distant sky and, in that moment, the three aren't celebrated musicians they're just three guys who desperately miss their friend. Morello's wailing solo sounds like expelled grief itself. The tribute is poignant, fitting and gut-wrenching. Prophets Of Rage close with Killing In The Name and the crowd lose whatever restraint they had left in them. 

Wandering back across the grass, there are empty nangs everywhere. Korn play an epic set and are incredibly tight, however many in the crowd have already hit peak testosterone/booze/drug consumption levels and things get ugly. One drunken asshole aggressively storms through the crowd, trying to pick fights with anyway considered to be in the way. On the other side of the field, a friend is coward-punched in the back of head. The band themselves are great and tunes such as Got The Life and Make Me Bad are performed brilliantly. Jonathan Davis' vocals are equal parts melodic and savage. Stopping by the Avalanche stage on the way out, NOFX go a long way to lighten the mood. They're hilarious and messy in just the right way. 

The hot dogs in batter are sold out, the toilets now smell like Satan's asshole and worse-for-wear punters become vomit-cannons to be avoided at all costs, which can only mean it's as good a time as any to head home. But over-refreshed patrons aside, the day is a resounding success. The bands are excellent, the facilities plentiful and there are more legends in the crowd than losers.

Here's hoping we see Download return Down Under in 2019.