Live Review: Splendour In The Grass

Splendour In The Grass

FRIDAY

It's too late to pre-book shuttle bus tickets online. Cue social media hysteria before festival outfits and accessories have even been finalised. After some mad Googling, we ascertain tickets can be purchased on the ingoing shuttle service, but need to be pre-purchased from a ticket window onsite for the journey/s home. Phew! Considering this new site is even further afield, traffic management needs sorting out. There's only one lane of traffic winding through the bushland and a snail would have beaten our bus to the entrance. From boarding this bus at Belongil (just outside the old site) to walking into the festival (after queuing for a wristband) takes two hours and ten minutes.

Officially opening Splendour In The Grass's tenth anniversary year on the Supertop stage are one of 2013's triple j Unearthed winners, Melbourne four-piece Baptism Of Uzi, who show off their formidable debut Stray Currents EP. It's clearly a special moment for the boys, who take the time to photograph the fast-gathering crowd, proudly informing audiences, “Don't worry – we got everyone in”. The long, charged songs and fuzzy, plunging transitions have echoes of experimental rock duo Ratatat, but there is little doubt these boys will annihilate airwaves on their own merit too.

Deap Vally frontvixen Lindsey Troy flings her pink, heart-shaped sunnies off and they clatter onto the Supertop stage so she can concentrate wholeheartedly on the filthy riffs. But it's really all about drummer Julie Edwards' hairography – cascading auburn curls are flung rhythmically in all directions – plus she wears raven-feather epaulettes better than Luke Steele ever will. “This is the first show I've played on one hour's sleep,” admits Troy, before checking she has her “special bucket” (Edwards: “barf bucket”) positioned side of stage. If Peaches and Robert Plant procreated, their offspring would be Deap Vally.

The Splendour forum hub is always a good one if you wanna sit down with your paper plate of food and savour every morsel so we head there for the tail end of the Can We Trust The Media? debate, which features “a special appearance” (via pre-recorded video footage) from WikiLeaks' editor-in-chief and Victorian Senate candidate Julian Assange. The best part of it is when a surfer dude starts doing yoga exercises from his seat in the front row and then leaps up and bounds around the tent shouting messages such as: “Bring back the love!” We want what he's having.     

American surf rockers Wavves thump onto the Supertop stage at a time when punters appear confident that the forecast of rain is, well, utter bullshit, and embrace lashings of sunlight and cold beer. As a result of this newfound confidence, torrents of half empty cups are thrown over the crowd, fittingly, like swelling waves, as the band play tracks from their four albums, which span five years. Finishing with their best feet forward, Wavves belt out a delightfully deafening rendition of King Of The Beach.

There are too many floral wreaths on heads to count assembling in Supertop and craning for sightlines prior to Haim. It's definitely a chick love-in and a few mother-daughter combos are spied. The Californian sisters sure can play and their endearing personalities shine through. Some guilty glances are exchanged within the crowd when the pronunciation of their band's name is revealed as “Hi-em” (rhymes with time). Don't Save Me is incandescent live and there's a mass exodus after penultimate track Forever. A successful debut visit to our shores.

Over yonder, the sassy and fabulous Clairy Browne and her Bangin' Rackettes take to the Mix-Up tent as night sets in, luring audiences with Browne's extraordinary vocal range and perfectly executed harmonies. United, they infuse passion into well-aired tracks such as Love Letter, Whatta Man and their latest, Walk Of Shame. With nine band members in total – and ladies who don matching beads, tassels and sequins – this Melbourne outfit knows the value of stage presence and audience participation as they encourage the crowd to dance and strike “original” poses. It is a reminder that showmanship – or rather showwomanship – is here to stay.

By 6pm on the first day, the D-floor of the GW McLennan is already a giant mud pie with the trek to the stage perilously slippery. Lead singer John Gourley's vocals are high and crystal clear and the band is as tight as a snare drum. Purple Yellow Red And Blue showcases Portugal The Man's sound of high falsetto vocals over some stock standard indie guitar, synth and drums. While the band plays well, tonight's performance lacks a bit of snap, crackle and pop.

The Supertop crowd is bafflingly sparse (especially considering this is Pete Doherty's first appearance on an Australian stage) when Babyshambles arrive onstage, the ramshackle frontman sporting a jaunty captain's hat and further continuing this nautical motif with a horizontal striped, long-sleeve tee. (He's portly these days, so could've rethunk the direction of those stripes.) This band sound tight, guitars locking in for sexy time. Doherty recently told Irish Independent he'd have to “lose a hand” in order to persuade him to stop using drugs so it's surprising to see how proficient a vocalist/guitarist he is. Fuck Forever goes down a treat and it's a shame Splendour punters chose to be elsewhere. Kind of wish Doherty had wiped out a couple of times onstage, though: His performance is kilometres away from train wreck territory.

To the couple of thousand revellers churning up the Mix-Up big-top, Flight Facilities are the commanders of good times and they are even wearing the hats to prove it. Elizabeth Rose takes the stage to perform I Didn't Believe and the crowd somehow surpasses the fever pitch that they were already trending along. Every electro fan makes the most of the music and vibes despite the muddy conditions.

Klaxons draw a decent crowd to Mix-Up tent and remind us how good dancing in the mud is for toning the legs. Gravity's Rainbow probably kicks the hallucinations in for many, but the actual visuals leave a lot to be desired – the band's name scrawled in primitive font on the back screen for the majority of their set is just plain lazy on their part. Klaxons sound exactly like their records live and their nu rave comes over more like dated rave these days. Would've liked some extra crank.

A headline act that definitely endures both the extraordinary highs and the gut-wrenching lows life casts out – an example of the latter saw past shows cancelled in order for bassist Ted Dwane to recover from brain surgery – perform a show that defies death and passionately embraces life with all of its hardships. Masters of catchy melodies and fervent lyrics, Mumford & Sons play the best of Sigh No More and Babel, closing with crowd favourite The Cave. The audience is almost unmatched in size throughout the weekend, and this band is duly thanked as the swelling Supertop chants loudly to each song.

SATURDAY

It's a much smoother transition into the site today and Brisbane boys Art Of Sleeping open proceedings before an eager crowd, unmarked by the premier night's festivities. Frontman Caleb Hodges continues to thank the crowd for their early attendance and the band play through their Like A Thief EP: Art Of Sleeping's collection of songs that are helping define a modern Australian sound. Above The Water is met with knowing claps and nods, yet a lesser-known number titled Crazy (taken from their forthcoming album) is also well received.

Masses assemble for the monster fun-making rave machine that is Jagwar Ma in Mix-Up tent. They're so fierce they could've been swapped with Klaxons. Come Save Me perfectly segues into another banger and this outfit's tunes are multi-faceted iridescence in a live setting. Set closer Man I Need takes us on a magic carpet ride of swami electro carnage that is (almost) enough to distract us from the sight of a franger squished into the mud. Random festival highlight spot quizzes throughout the weekend see Vance Joy's name crop up a lot, but we wouldn't have missed Jagwar Ma for the word. Hype warranted. Jagwar Ma are officially the next Cut Copy.

Violent Soho do not let their 2.20pm timeslot perturb them: They rev up the crowd from mad to angry in about a quarter of a song. The band's Jesus Stole My Girlfriend track is the set highlight along with the two giant circle pits created in the crowd. 'Soho take credit for having the best mosh of the festival, much to the annoyance of the (significantly smaller) gaggle of bored girlfriends waiting on the periphery for their significant others to finish being all homoerotic. One joker steals the show by crowd-surfing on his mate's back, until Chewbacca turns up on an inflatable tortoise.

It's undeniable. Jake Bugg's got mad skills. However, his solemn, concentrating onstage persona calls to mind an Idol contestant at the start of his 'journey'. Much to our amusement, a row of young ladies line the photography barrier, swooning, as picked out by the cameramen to broadcast on the giant screens. Bugg doesn't offer much to the listening experience via live performance, but he could certainly record proficiently in just one take.

Melbourne's Chet Faker brings his smooth, electro sounds to the Mix-Up for this afternoon's Splendour crowd. The timing is perfect since most of the crowd is relaxed, passively enjoying the music while mentally preparing themselves for tonight's festivities. The conclusion of the set is slightly awkward when the band attempt a strange, double-time coda. Faker concludes by introducing the band and then himself last. He really should realise that everyone knows who he is by now.

Lawrence Greenwood, a staple of the Australian music scene better recognised by his revived moniker Whitley, plays to a reduced-but-intimate crowd in the GW McLennan tent. Seated on a piano stool for almost the entire set's duration, Greenwood concentrates mainly on material from his third and latest album Even The Stars Are A Mess. Despite a relationship with said alter ego that has been fraught at times, Whitley fans are enduring, imbuing their cheers with affection and warmth to accompany tracks from his increasing catalogue.

Having recently released the follow-up to 2010's Bliss Release, Blue Mountain band Cloud Control take to the stage a little later than scheduled but, in the same vein as their music, do so with persistent enthusiasm and zest. Playing out the set in a pattern of one old song followed by one new, the freshly acquired intensity and weight of new album Dream Cave is evident as it's held up against its predecessor. However, the delight expressed for older tracks such as Gold Canary, There's Nothing In The Water We Can't Fight and Just For Now appears not to have wavered over the years.

Hot pants and synths are the order of the day for New York electro-pop duo Ms Mr. As twilight descends, the band deliver hit after hit, which only increases the crowd's insatiable desire for more. Singer Lizzy Plapinger remarks, “This is the kind of gig that you dream of playing when you first start a band,” to deafening cheers. However, the largest cheer is saved for when Max Hershenow announces that they are going to play Hurricane, the first song they ever released, to close what can only be described as a career-defining set.

Gold Bar celebrity sighting: One Direction's Harry Styles. Come on, it was him! He loves Matt Corby, so…

Canyons always bring the class (with the exception of a side rat's tail on Leo Thomson's head that would even be inexcusable on a Collingwood fan's noggin) and inside Red Bull Music Academy marquee their disco cuts find an eager audience. The duo's 'ear for a choon' is what makes them worth experiencing and the fact that they still cart vinyl around earns them extra bonus points. Attempting to mix in a badly scratched, unsalvageable copy of John Paul Young's Love Is In The Air is an exasperating finish to an otherwise stellar set.

Co-pilot Nick Littlemore is still absent from Empire Of The Sun's live show and there are as many dancers/creatures onstage as there are musicians. Sure, Luke Steele's got talent and hearing debut album tracks such as Walking On A Dream and We Are The People in a festival setting is awesome, but watching the drummer trying to negotiate a gigantic tribal headdress as it slips forward is amateur hour. The unitarded dancers also have so many props and swordfish masks to manipulate that barely eight counts of unison are achieved throughout the entire set. A nearby onlooker scratches his head before sharing, “It's David Bowie meets Kiss”. When a massive creature that looks like it's made out of giant cardboard toilet paper rolls lifts its arms from which smoke cannons loudly erupt, we wish Iron Maiden's towering mascot Eddie would enter stage left and exterminate.

Fourteen years is a long time by anyone's standards, but in the case of Ohio's The National, time has definitely served them well. Presenting a thunderous set at the Supertop, the five-piece nominate only the best from their six-album catalogue, including the beloved and ever-moving Fake Empire, Bloodbuzz Ohio, a few off their latest Trouble Will Find Me album and tonight's closing track Terrible Love. Frontman/genius Matt Berninger is serious and considered, injecting potent conviction into every weighted word.

SUNDAY

Breakfast celebrity sighting: Matt Corby leaning in a Byron Bay café window to chat with Lara Bingle.

The weekend's strong Mix-Up scheduling continues, placing PVT onstage just after midday. There are three players onstage, including brothers Richard (frontman) and Laurence (drummer) Pike, and as such some friendly sibling jibes enter between-song banter. Their looped sounds wash over us and pleasantly warm our synapses up for day three. Bookmark these guys for late-night viewing in a venue near you.   

Hailing from Australia's Western front, Perth filth-guitar strummers The Growl certainly embody their name. The overtly charismatic Cameron Avery (also of Pond) is at the helm, taking control of both band and today's modest crowd with his bourbon-laced voice, one hand dug defiantly into his hip for the set's duration. However it is their best-known track With The Sharp End Of A Trowel that really showcases the band's skills. As the first taste of The Growl's harmonies, this is grrrrrreat.

Sharing keyboardist James Ireland with Perth pals The Growl, and immediately following this band on GW McLennan stage, The Chemist's brand of rock echoes the genius of Jack White. Fronted by Ben Witt (who also plays in Bob Evans' band) and armed with an amazing percussion section – at times three maracas are shaken in unison by multiple pairs of hands – the songs rocket along with a vague and gritty Western, fight-in-a-saloon, feel. Thus, any sensible professional would prescribe large doses of these guys.

Airbourne were BORN Ready To Rock as Joel O'Keeffe barges onstage, already bare-chested and sweaty. The Warrnambool dudes embody rock'n'roll, which has been underrepresented at this year's festival up until FIDLAR's previous set on the very same Supertop stage (oh and not to forget Deap Vally, of course). O'Keeffe encourages “SplendAH!” to light our collective spliffs and get a “contact high”. He may not scale scaffolding these days, but O'Keeffe's party trick of bashing a VB tinnie against his skull until it spouts like a fountain is something not to be tried at home. You always get what you sign up for with Airbourne: They are the custodians of rock.

After wondering why Amish people are drinking and smoking durries (so therefore not truly Amish) in the Gold Bar throughout the weekend, we stumble upon our answer near the GW McLennan tent where a large-scale Amish performance art installation is in session. There's a lady reading a book in a carriage, kids sitting on hay bales and a bell is rung to denote dinner time inside the wood frame skeleton house. Of the woman cast as a reading enthusiast, we ponder: Fancy telling your mates you attended Splendour In The Grass and finished a couple of books across the weekend?      

Frank Ocean went so damn hard at his Melbourne show that he allegedly tore a vocal cord. And so Lorde, the gutsy 16-year-old from our neighbours across the pond in New Zealand, fills a void created by his absence with saccharine-laced, pop tracks such as Royals and Tennis Court. Whisked over at only a day's notice, Ella Yelich O'Connor takes to the stage diplomatically and while she doesn't Channel ORANGE she certainly conjures something brave and soothing. The punters show their full support with rapturous applause and Lorde is gonna be huge.  

For triangle-loving, elevated mystery band Alt-J, their ascent up the Splendour In The Grass festival bill in Frank Ocean's absence feels appropriate when the Supertop crowd swells. With only one available album at this stage of their career, they are forced to play their debut An Awesome Wave set almost in full. Matilda is particularly adored by the crowd. Written almost five years ago, it is one of the band's earliest tracks and, like Breezeblocks, pays lip service to their pop-culture obsession (specifically the 1994 Luc Besson movie Léon: The Professional). Between their own hits, Alt-J also weave in a couple of new songs plus Slow Dre: an incredible Kylie Minogue/Dr Dre mash-up.

Festival tip: buy a plastic poncho, cart it around with you every day and it will never rain when you are in transit outdoors.

As our final shuttle bus for the weekend passes a Koala Crossing sign, we're pretty sure the only wildlife crossings the past three days would have been made by munters in animal onesies. What makes Splendour In The Grass so enjoyable is the atmosphere created by festival heads travelling from all corners of Australia to worship sick tunes. This year's music scheduling is a little low on wow-factor (especially after Frank Ocean's cancellation) and the amount of time it takes to commute in and out of Byron Bay makes us question whether it's accurate to call this site North Byron Parklands.

Bryget Chrisfield, Benjamin Meyer, Izzy Tolhurst