There are four things that you should know about festivals. The first one is that they require significant physical and mental preparation that is akin to the likes of Bear Grylls. The second, is that at some point you will be disappointed, whilst the third; it will be hot, people will get naked – and it quite possibly will get ugly which will definitely disappoint you. The fourth and final thing you should be aware of is regardless of whom you go with, it’s a shit fight out there. All humanity is lost and it really is every man for his or herself. Coming to terms with this, you will still find yourself eager to go. This was, on New Years day, the exact predicament I found myself in.
The inaugural Field Day hosted in Sydney’s Domain is the annual go to event for those who didn’t get wild or naked enough the night before. Those Sydneysiders who woke up with extra party spirit left in the tank can haphazardly march themselves into the city to soak up the sounds on a beautiful patch of soon to be dead grass. Put together by the kind folk at Fuzzy, Field Day prides itself on ringing in the New Year for an extra twelve hours until you pass out from alcohol, exhaustion or sunstroke. And with a line-up like this year’s, how could anyone resist?
I pulled up to the gates around one. Last minute punters were lined up in desperation down the main drag, eager to acquire spare tickets. Upon entry I was greeted by rows of unfortunate, bedraggled and quite obviously hungover individuals who were in – as I now like to call it – festival limbo. That place halfway between heaven and hell on that patch of eroded dirt, somewhere between the curb and barbwire fence. I quickly diverted my eyes, looking at them made me feel uneasy, the whole scene drew too many similarities to every zombie film ever made.
First up on my list was Calvin Harris, which apparently was what the other twenty thousand attendees were thinking. For a 2.40 slot, this was already out of control. In the spirit of self-preservation, I decided to find a place up in the back in the VIP stand. Which, may I add, is nowhere near as good as it sounds. To put things into perspective, if we were at a sporting event, these would be the least desirable seats in the house. I was herded into the nosebleed section under what started to seem like an apocalyptic sun, drawing closer and closer. After sticking around for Harris‘ obligatory hits, I decided I was over this open grill situation and if Centre Stage was celebrating the “A-side” then I was going to celebrate the “B-side.”
I headed straight to The Island stage, Young MC was running behind schedule and I had found a prime position to watch the hip-hop sensation ‘bust-a-move’. He may be in his forties and repping a Steggles Chicken jersey, but Young MC was still in top form dropping ‘stone cold’ rhymes like he was fresh out of ‘89. It was soon clear that the old-school rapper had bought his a-game; equip with DJ Mathematic on the decks and two backup dancers donning their 80s best, MC performed a slick assortment of his greatest hits; to which die hard fans preceded to put on a display of their best 80s throwback moves. The high point of the set was when he freestyled his exit whilst the low point was when I realised there wasn’t more than fifty people watching. Disappointed.
Following MC’s seriously under appreciated – but knock-out – performance was Cloud Control. A group whose performance provided a much needed intermission from the pulsing dance beats that were pounding down at Left Field. Numbers were still looking slim, but with perseverance and a set list that included hits like ‘Death Cloud‘, ‘Ghost Story‘ and ‘There’s Nothing In The Water We Can’t Fight‘ it wasn’t long until the feel-good, euphonic tunes and Heidi Lenferr’s siren-esque calls, lured the masses into The Island sanctuary. Enchanted by the folksy harmonies audiences swayed, eyes shut seemingly removed from the nauseating heat.
In tow were Flight Facilities who gave the audience a second wind. The well loved Sydney duo made a fleeting appearance, delivering a stealthy set of dance tracks and slipping in some original hits which included a guest appearance by Jess Higgs, performing the hit ‘Foreign Language‘. By the end of the set, the crowed was a buzz and ready for Metronomy and had materialised the densest crowed yet whilst delivering, what I believe, was one of the most solid performances of the day. Opening with an amalgamation of synth sounds that travelled from a bygone era, the curious final track ‘Love Underlined‘ off their most recent album, The English Riviera. Metronomy resonated across the field, welcoming stray festavilists who were beguiled by the languid atmosphere and intrigued enough to hang around. After drawing in the crowed, energy was reinjected with the bass driven track ‘The Bay‘ and backed up with the feel good number, ‘The Look‘ and ‘Corrine‘. The effects of Metronomy’s up beat performance and jovial presence were instant, it was smiles all round as everyone let go of any afternoon inertia.
Happy and content, I made the pilgrimage back to The Centre Stage, just in time to catch the end of Gotye’s ’Easy Way Out‘. As the stage came into sight, all my senses were heightened. Accompanied by a team of ten instrumentalists, Wally De Baker had enough backup to say ‘Yeah I got a designated brass section…what of it?’ In short there was nothing modest about this display. Putting on a symphony of sight and sound might seem like a somewhat ambitious plan for most festival artists, especially after a raging New Years Eve, but it was blatantly clear that you could count on De Baker to defy convention and make every other artist look like they turned up to busk. While the audience wasn’t singing backup vocals to ‘Somebody That I Used To Know‘, or getting their groove on to ‘State of The Art‘, they seemed transfixed on the animation, dancing and perhaps calculating how to get in on the jamboree happening on stage.
Having fought my way back to The Centre Stage after Yuksek, I didn’t have the energy to move, I was flagging. I decided to settle in for the long haul and wait for Justice. During this time Example passed with enough fist pumping action to make even the most discerning Guido proud. Followed by an assaulting set by Crystal Castles whose lead, Alice Glass, spent near forty minutes hitting and spitting at her fans before making way for Busy P to entertain the masses by mixing up the best of the best from Daft Punk to The Rapture and Metronomy with unexpected classics like Bobby Hebb’s ’Sunny’. Amongst the flailing limbs, people still managed to erect human towers and throw one another ten feet into the air and do so surprisingly well without harm. Before quitting the stage, Busy P didn’t waste a chance to declare his love, “Brisbane was shit, Melbourne was shit, this one was real. This is why we love you!” At that point the crowed lost all dignity, partially because like a smug girl, Sydney thrives off feeling superior, but mainly because this marked the beginning Justice and the world premier of their new live show.
It had the characteristic of any overly anticipated headlining act or Christian riot. The people were chanting, some were lighting things on fire (sparklers mainly.) As a sea of salutations greeted the light, people began scaling each other just to get a glimpse, whilst others had their hands busy raising up giant crucifixes. It all appeared rather ominous until the silence was broken by the horns of ‘Genesis‘. I bolted to the front of the stage to join in awe. Without introduction the French electro-duo unleashed a solid medley of songs from their 2007 debut Cross as well as notable mentions from this years follow up album Audio, Video, Disco. Bodies spasmed, heads thrashed and (surprise, surprise) fists pumped. And just when I thought I had experienced everything Justice had to offer, I was caught off guard by Gaspard Augé’s piano rendition of ‘D.A.N.C.E‘ that merged into a full force version of ‘Civilisation‘. If that wasn’t satisfying enough, they even managed to squeeze samples of ‘DVNO‘ and ‘We Are Your Friends‘ into the mix. As the set came to a close, I stood under the glow of the illuminated cross. Maybe it was the all religious propaganda or maybe I was just really dehydrated, either way, I’d felt a divine revelation. If everything else in 2012 turned out to be a great disappointment, at least I started the year at Field Day.
