Photo: Victoria Zamora
The extension of any festival over a number of days, even just two, is likely to prove a difficult task for some. The energy levels present across all corners of Belongil Fields on Saturday were certainly not there mid-afternoon on Sunday, when much of the crowd began to arrive bleary eyed and bruised on account of the previous day's excesses. A quick visit to the guest bar proved a good barometer for this; for an area that had resembled a vulture enclosure not 24 hours beforehand, it now looked more like the interior of some forgotten club at 5am, the floors sticky, the bar staff weary, and lonely mirror balls casting dots of light over the few remaining stragglers. The only thing missing was that crushing air of desperation. And in this moment of clarity it became apparent that the only viable option was to step away from the bar and tread across to the Mix Up tent to see Lost Valentinos.
Like Midnight Juggernauts, a number of music fans and critics alike were keen to write off Lost Valentinos - or The Valentinos, as they were known back then - early on in their existence. It pleases me to say that for the huge international success the Juggernauts have seen, it is Lost Valentinos who have in fact grown far more musically. For a band of precocious Sydney upstarts that rode the wave of post-punk revivalism to some success a few years ago, they've now evolved into something entirely of their own. Piecing together the last few threads of Klaxons' combustible but short-lived nu-rave era with a dose of the Stone Roses ethereal psych, as well as a touch of their own cinematic vision, has taken them from being a great local band to an enthralling one, with the crowd's response to recent singles 'Serio' and 'Bismarck' settling any remaining questions as to where they might be headed. Not that it mattered too greatly to the band themselves, with lead singer Nik Yiannikis throwing himself about with suitable abandon and obviously drawing a lot of energy from multi-instrumenalist Jono Ma as they locked in with the group's two drummers for roof-lifting cover of DJ Mujava's 'Township Funk' near the end of the set.
With a suitable antidote to the second-day downer having been provided by the aforementioned band's set and the consumption of several fish tacos, it was time to catch Friendly Fires. With bands that you've been following from their early days, you often feel strongly entitled to pass judgement on what they come up with as they continue on their way, as was the case for me with Friendly Fires. After providing one of the great breakthrough pop singles of 2007 with 'Paris', their 2008 album proved to be a little bit of a disappointment, mainly due to the excessive level of production imposed on what was otherwise a fairly solid collection of tunes. For this reason I was hoping to get a lot more out of their live show, and after a few technical hitches at the start the group launched into a very impressive set, whipping the crowd into a cowbell-induced lather and making good on the promise of their early releases. They were even able to provide a bit of a cigarette-lighter moment at one point by introducing crowd-favourite 'Strobe' further into proceedings.
In my discussion of Happy Mondays' performance the previous night, you may remember that one of the reasons I listed for wanting to see them so much was that they were one of the few bands of the Madchester era that I'd ever get to catch live. It was not until I began walking across the now battle-scarred grounds of Belongil to see Doves that I realised I was about to be treated to a performance by another band from that history-making period. While Doves stopped performing as Sub Sub a long time ago, the fact that they cut their teeth at the same time as the original rave groups of the early '90s definitely shows. The deft technical touches displayed during tracks such as 'Catch the Sun' and 'Kingdom of Rust' could only have been pulled off by such experienced hands.
Drawing one of the largest - if not the largest - crowd seen for any band of the two days, MGMT proceeded to push their way through a passable set that proved to be a disappointment for a great many who were there, at least according to the snippets of shouted conversations I overheard after they finished. The exact reasons for this were quite difficult to pin down, but I'll do my best to offer a few possibilities here. As a band that has exceeded the popularity threshold for most of the music snob crowd, and one that veers occasionally too far out for less critical audiences with their excursions into Suicide-meets-Prince territory, it's conceivable that their show might end up letting down both groups. Far more likely an explanation is that the cracks have started to appear after more than a year of non-stop touring around the globe, and the same length of time spent with the "most hyped band in the world" tag slung round their necks. In any case, from my point of view they delivered a perfectly acceptable set, with 'Time to Pretend' and 'Electric Feel' drawing as much from the crowd as anticipated, leaving me of the opinion that perhaps the sheer weight of expectation on Andrew VanWyngarden and Ben Goldweiser's shoulders is what seems to have let people down on both of their visits to Australia so far.
What can be said about The Flaming Lips that hasn't been said already? In the nearly hour-long wait before their set, I could only think about my previous experience watching them at a Big Day Out several years ago. As it was on Sunday night, they were closing the festival, albeit on a considerably smaller stage. It was nothing short of majestic then: the costumes, the bubble machines, Wayne Coyne bouncing round in his giant plastic sphere; and that's leaving the music completely out of the equation. So what could be expected tonight? The stage seemed set for something big, with an enormous arched video screen beaming out the customary psychedelic visuals well and truly ahead of the band taking the stage.
It was one of those sets where even the roadies were greeted with huge cheers from the crowd as they conducted their soundcheck, and you know you're in for something special when that happens. Then it did happen: bursting forth from a flashing woman's particulars on the video screen came Coyne's merry men, the sense of anticipation for the entrance of the man himself and that bubble escalating to something near fever pitch. Making his appearance right on cue, Coyne stood composed as the plastic sphere inflated around him, though his own excitement seemed to grow in proportion with the amount of air getting pumped inside, to the point where he almost made it off stage and onto the crowd in a single movement by the time it was full.
We were then hit with emphatic set opener 'Race for the Prize'. I really can't remember much after that. It was one of those shows that rolls into one glorious moment, where there's just no capacity for notes or critical thinking, or paying attention to any of the technical aspects whatsoever. The strength of the set list alone made it impossible to split the difference between any of the songs; 'Do You Realize??', 'Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots' - how do you choose a single highlight from those? It's just something that's experienced, but walking out on Sunday night I was able to pull out one indisputable fact: I had witnessed the greatest live band in the world.
Marcus Browne
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