Live Review: Laneway Festival Melbourne

A cool, giant inflatable rainbow arches over the entrance into Laneway Festival's Instagenic site. We rush down Bunbury Street, pausing momentarily to admire the mural of Princess Leia sporting Bowie-inspired lightning-bolt makeup to catch the tail end of Shame's set on Spinning Top Stage. The five Brits are in full caterwauling throttle, frontman Charlie Steen is shirtless and sweltering under the baking sun wearing short black denim shorts. One of the guitarists jumps around all over the place up there and often winds up lying on the stage. We like what we see. The band's youthful nonchalance is infectious and lyrical content focuses on what they know (One Rizla: "I'd rather be fucked than sad"). Their sound is rough and ready, but accomplished. Lampoon takes us there. "Shame, Shame, Shame, that's the name!" Steen concludes, probably completely unaware of Derryn Hinch let alone the fact that this was his catchcry. We'll see you at their sideshow at The Tote on Thursday night!  

Walking along Maribyrnong River, the staff in Glitoris glitter tent are busily zhoozhing punters as we search for the entrance to the Kiehl rooftop party hoping for the greatest view of The Very West Stage for The Babe Rainbow. Eventually we stumble upon a girl holding a "K" sign and approach, wondering whether anyone's asked her if she's a ketamine dealer yet. We're directed through an underground car park to an elevator, which takes us to Kiehl's Instagrammer's paradise. There's an adult ball pit, a couple of make-up artists, colourful cocktails and brilliant views of the Melbourne skyline. And apparently it's a thing to spray a lemon mist in your face while you scull an Absolut shot! We initially think what we're hearing are the dreamy sounds of The Babe Rainbow. But are they doing a cover? Nope, a DJ is supplying the rooftop sounds. So we polish off our drinks before returning to ground zero.

Back over on Spinning Top Stage, Dream Wife make a helluva racket. They are everything this post-#MeToo climate needs. "I spy with my little eye, BAD BITCHES!" badass Icelandic singer Rakel Mjoll shouts, wearing a white T-shirt knotted at the front with "Girl Power" emblazoned across the back in bold red letters (with Minnie Mouse in place of the 'o'). FUU incorporates a nod to Spice Girls ("I tell you what I want/What I really, really want") and sees Mjoll prowling around in her baggie navy trakkies or posing with one foot up on a foldback wedge. Alice Go is a beast on the guitar and looks striking in aqua bike shorts and baseball singlet with her platinum bob. They close their set with Let's Make Out complete with the lyrical tease, "Are you too shy?" While walking away and hoping these "bad bitches" inspire a whole new generation of female-heavy band line-ups, we actually overhear a really excited chick enthusing, "I am so inspired!" to her mate.

Aside from its natural amphitheatre and grassy advantage, it becomes apparent early on that Spinning Top Stage is where it's at! They've been steadily gaining international traction and were the band on everyone's lips at The Great Escape in Brighton last year (even though they weren't even showcasing) and Rolling Blackouts Coastal Fever absolutely bring it to Spinning Top Stage. The fact that this band consists of three singer-guitarists and two sets of relatives definitely gives them a genetic, symbiotic edge, and they are as perfect live as they are on record. Irresistible, shimmering, jangly guitars and insistent bass wash over us as speak-sing delivery is interspersed with plaintive singing and it all seems so effortless! Bound for massive things.         

Desiring a prime position for the incomparable Moses Sumney, we arrive at Future Classic Stage ahead of time, hovering in the shade until we notice the front section starting to fill up and then claim our spots. Sumney takes the mic: "Mel-booooorne!! Look at all the fucking hipsters!" Setting up Future Classic Stage so that the artists escape direct sunlight is a win for Sumney who sports trademark black robes. Punters unfortunately cop the blazing sun, however, and some wrap garments over the tops of their heads in lieu of more traditional SPF options. There's reverent silence as we sway, in awe of Sumney's pure artistry. "This is for everyone who's never been kissed," is how Sumney introduces Make Out In My Car. Sumney tries to get the festival massive to hold a sustained note, but we sound tone-deaf so sadly cannot assist the atmosphere of Everlasting Sigh's intro. But, let's face it! He doesn't need our help and his backing players are as extraordinarily gifted as Sumney himself. They close with Lonely World with its endlessly plaintive crescendoes and we wilt in the presence of his brilliance as well as the heat. Soul food. 

Fanging it up the hill to Dean Turner stage for Wolf Alice, we admire the band's backdrop from a distance before moving closer to the stage. It features a dewy forest scene and calls to mind an episode of Skins when the characters went camping. It's refreshing to see many artists utilising single-image backdrop at this festival, allowing their music to be the focus rather than the overkill of constantly shifting, ADD imagery. We swoon while listening to Wolf Alice's thick, atmospheric sludge as a welcome breeze blows through the shaded area. Ellie Rowsell's husky timbre captivates and the band's stop-start rhythms are perfectly timed. Looking elegant in a black slip dress and with her hair slicked down and fastened with bobby pins, Roswell clambers over the photography barrier and rises up within the crowd during their last song. A gent wanders outta the mosh with a bloodied nose, looking pretty proud of himself while his friend assesses the damage.

We spy an excellent short-sleeved white shirt with a print featuring some kind of surfing parrot wearing blue-framed shades and a backwards cap in the same hue on the back and realise we need to work harder on our festival fashion choices.

Everything about Aldous Harding is stark and confronting, from the deliberate piano stabs to her meticulous elocution and the gestures that roll through her entire body during Horizon. The sun streams down on Harding, who is fortunately wearing her trademark all-white stage clothes (also playing a white guitar) and many in the front section offer up their hats for Harding to wear. But she wants none of it, explaining, "Hats are such a 'thing', you know?" People keep insisting on offering her hats. "I appreciate it, but I just can't do it. No hats. No hats." Then a bloke starts bolting down the hillside holding out his hat. "Why are you still coming at me with a hat?" Um, get the message already, people! Her vocal control during Imagining My Man is next-level and live bass clarinet elevates the arrangement. Harding's guitar work is intricate and masterful as well as she sits on a stool, hunched over with her heels hooked onto the last rung, legs spread in an exaggerated fashion. "This is a newer one, it's called Weight Of The Planets," Harding offers and this is about as upbeat as she gets. Harding finishes solo on acoustic with a heartbreaking new dirge she introduces as Heaven Is Empty and all those comparisons to PJ Harvey are absolutely justified.

There's an open-air mist booth for those in need of an instant cool-down so we get involved just before Father John Misty on this same stage. Rapturous applause and cheers welcome him before he's even played a single note. The artist otherwise known as Joshua Tillman responds, "Don't spoil me, now. I've still gotta do a good job," before encouraging us to "withhold judgement" and then launching into Funtimes In Babylon. His anti-fashion mustard shirt - let's face it, no one looks good in that colour - is a massive turn-off and a neighbour in the crowd leans in to share, "I would never sleep with him, he'd judge me." Following I Love You, Honeybear, however, she rescinds this statement. But then Tillman goes and spoils it all by telling us he was finishing up reading an Aldous Huxley book backstage while Aldous Harding was playing! Really!? But then Hollywood Forever Cemetery Sings totally redeems him. Tillman's so cocksure and there's a lotta hip-swinging movement going on. A punter yells out to Tillman between songs, "Your opinion on bananas!" Huh? We're so conflicted! Are we fans of this man or not? But this is all part of the appeal. 

Wow! The sonic transition from Father John Misty to Bonobo up on Dean Turner stage is full-on but most welcome and we kinda wished we'd hightailed it up here sooner. Crystal-clear sounds transport us to a tropical paradise where we've all consumed way too much kava. These squelchy beats sound a tad like diarrhoea at times, but hopefully no one in the crowd is shitting their pants. There's a whole lotta dancing gonna on and the area is packed! Heaps of live instrumental flourishes enhance a rotating roster of guest vocalists and Simon Green (that's Bonobo's real name) drops Kerala to close, which causes absolute mayhem. A standout festival set that's bound to lure many to Laneway Festival's after-party at Max Watt's, which Bonobo is headlining (with a DJ set).        

It's time to factor in some food and an impressive variety of stalls, including Royal Moyle and Smith & Daughters, offer speciality cocktails matched to food. A gastronomic delight.

As we approach Future Classic Stage for BADBADNOTGOOD, an aspiring juggler in the crowd utilises different-coloured glowing orbs to illuminate our path. This group of Canadians have collaborated on many stellar hip-hop tracks by the likes of Kendrick Lamar, Ghostface Killah and Tyler, The Creator, but their free-form jazz stuff just doesn't cut it for us at this time of night and we reckon they should have been switched up with Bonobo. BADBADNOTGOOD are also utterly un-Shazamable and tricky to dance to. A reveller tries to push by and then inquires, "Have they just started? Are they warming up? Is this how they've always been?" Which pretty much sums it up, really.

We make a mad dash up Bunbury Street hoping to catch the end of Odesza's set to pull some shapes to, but instead hear actual crickets. NOOooooo, our BADBADNOTGOOD choice of headliner leads to an unsatisfactory end-of-Laneway experience. We should've prioritised POND on our favourite Spinning Top Stage instead!