“Are you here visiting Australia?” “No, we’re just going to a Rock Festival…”
January 26, 2008And so, a naïve pharmacist started what was set to be a big day, pun intended, at Big Day Out 2008. After all the dramas of buying tickets on-line at 4a.m., arguing with pedantic parents on my right to attend and a huge cancellation that came as unexpectedly as the death the day beforehand, I was on my way to what I hoped would be the first of many outings to what is an Australian institution.
Warning: Epic Post Follows…
Our first taste of the day to come was waiting for an express train at Lidcombe station. The people flowing onto the platform were eclectic, strange, yet all high-spirited. This, of course was the tip of the iceberg, after a swift entry into the showground (in which I worried that the bag-checking method they used on me would be used on anyone else, specifically those with bad intentions) we were greeted by bubbles, colour, lights, hand-painted signs a-la Primary School, plastic sets right out of a theme park and tents selling everything from over-greased Turkish food to airbrush tattooing to Borat-style mankinis. It was a great sight to behold, neutralised to mediocrity due to the littering nature of those attending.
After buying some merchandise (specifically a Neon-Bible-styled Arcade Fire t-shirt and a drink cooler solely for symbolic sake) we made our way to Dappled Cities. My second time seeing them, I wasn’t too fussed as to getting there late, yet I still got to hear my favourite songs. Great and friendly as always, there set was – from what I saw – significantly tighter than at the last time I saw them in June. Not to mention, still being early in the day, the vibe was much calmer than an afternoon or night show. That, and they played a new song: sounds a bit more dance-punky. The touring with LCD Soundsystem must have rubbed off.
After that was a bit of British India, at which we noticed that we were in desperate need of earplugs, especially if we want to survive by the end of the day. That said, at my first time watching the boys from Melbourne was okay: not excellent like all the street press critics have been making them out to be live, yet not awful. Reminds me of how I feel about The Clash, generally.
I left early to get said earplugs ($1, A steal!) and walked into the Main Arena for the first time. May I say, the size and poor acoustics have been overstated. Although both are true to an extent, I was still able to listen quite clearly and see the stage from the outfield. Basically there to leave aforementioned friend to watch Operator Please, I stayed to watch a few minutes of their set and got as annoyed as I did watching them supporting Arctic Monkeys, so I left.
May I say, leaving at that exact moment was the best decision yet: I was able to get within metres of the Essential Stage, ready for the so-hyped-they-got-into-the-first-announcement band Cut Off Your Hands. With a name like that, it’s hard to believe that their semi-Rolling Stones-Sticky-Fingers-era semi-Manic Street Preachers pop-infused rock, does not only come out of the instruments they perform with, but they do it with such gusto and joy that lead singer Nick is literally jumping all over people and climbing the stage. Great fun had with a great band and the best crowd of the day. One of the highlights and will definitely buy their EP.
Nick, literally in the middle of the crowd during “You and I”
Next was Josh Pyke, next door on the Green Stage. In short, I felt the same way about his performance as I do about his music in general, great guy and certainly one of my favourite Australian artists, yet nothing amazing. And I get the vibe that’s how he likes it as well: Not exactly ground-breaking, just good music. That, and to me he’ll always be a greasy-haired kid that played Fairfield RSL.
Yet again, we were stuck at the side stages, this time for Kate Nash. I had low expectations, but suddenly they were blown away. Not as vocal as the infinitely annoying Lily Allen, not as twee as every I-play-the-piano-slow-and-sing-songs-about-love artist, she teams her skill with cute looks and an ability to really engage the audience. Add a guest appearance by Billy Bragg for New England and I now officially want to marry Miss Nash. Afterwards, I snagged myself the set list used by Kate herself, that became a belated birthday gift for my my BDO partner in crime, Taina.
We toured around the markets for a bit, saw a bit of Belles Will Ring (seen them before, great band), made friends with the guys at Amnesty International and got some lunch (chicken wrap reminded me of bad canteen food, to be honest), then headed into the Boiler Room, which literally was the four Olympic Park Exhibition Halls opened up to form one huge warehouse/makeshift-nightclub. Our reason for being in said area? Dizzee Rascal.
After hearing rave reviews from both previous Big Day Out’s, I was expecting a great show. Yet maybe it was the fact that I was yet to cloak my bag, or I was worried about the safety of my fellow BDO’er in there, my inability to get a decent photo in the environment, or that I couldn’t help comparing Dizzee’s act to G-Unit’s awesome live set at the Big Top last year (and I only saw about three minutes of that), but I never got fully into in. I share the same sentiments I have about British India with Dizzee, though I will give Maths and English the listen it deserves.
One of the poor photos I took. It only got worse from this one onwards
I got to Spoon late due to having to cloak my bag, yet I arrived just in time for one of the best moments of the day: Britt Daniel swearing at the guards to stop spraying their crowd (who were easily the second best crowd of the day) with their water hose. They followed their awesome spat with some incredibly tight playing, making for a memorable set overall. Oh, and the entire thing reminded me of theme songs of those witty comedies that never survive long on prime-time TV. I seriously need Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga now!
Britt Daneil: Getting the job done after calling the security guard a dipshit
The horns section. Awesome.
Comparably, Tom Morello sounded like a different type of theme song, that to a horrible 80’s action flick starring Chuck Norris, plus random socialist drivel. Seriously, Audioslave then this? If this is the pattern his works are taking on in the new millennium, then please, may a new Rage Against The Machine album never see the light of day.
I walked out on Morello, and not wanting to see Grinspoon nor Pnau, and forgetting that Bridezilla was on, I headed to the Hot House and waited for Blue King Brown. And what a great decision that was. The rhythm, the crowd, the vibe, the energy, the pitch-perfection of Natalie Paapaa’s voice, and the brilliance of the Hot House compared to the rest of the stages at the fest – this is exactly what the best of Big Day Out was made of, for me. Key moments: a freestyle rant on all that is wrong about our nation that made the lyrics of Rage Against The Machine look like something written by a Year 6 debating team and a failed Mexican wave attempt greeted with laughter and obscenities by the band. They were easily the best local band on-show, not to mention I got a photo with bassist Carlos Santone.
I consider this my second favourite photo of the day. Natalie is so beautiful.
I spent the next few minutes looking around and meeting friends who had come along to Big Day Out as well. During that, I got to see the smallest bits of Hilltop Hoods (looked like the crowd were loving them) and Goodwill (meh), as well as check out the trippy light show that was the AR Magic System, otherwise known by the end of the day as “The Light Cube”.
The Hoods, seemingly with the crowd in the palm of their hands, from the Grandstand
The Trippy Light Cube, up close
However, these diversions were all stopped at around 7pm, when I headed to the Green Stage and waited. Billy Bragg was playing on the Essential Stage, trying to get me and my fellow waiters to be involved with his sing-alongs, yet to no avail. We were transfixed, patient yet hypnotised on a stage still being fiddled with by roadies. Then, Dave Konopka came on stage, still not sure if he was tuning his instruments or signalling the beginning of the set, he played with his guitar and the amplifiers, creating more sounds than humanly possible. He put the guitar down, bowed, and we knew, from then on, we were in control by the band known as Battles.
Their set was the definition of perfection. For the moments I spent watching Dave, Ian Williams and his earmuffs, Tyondai Braxton supplying eccentric vocal samples and, of course, John Stainer, the drummer, made famous by his use of a hi-hat that stands like a sunflower two-metres high, I was certain I was no longer at Big Day Out. I was in an alternate dimension, being taught that everything I know about music is wrong, and that they are the true revolution at this festival. They played silently, seguing each song with their own impromptu mixes and jams and fixing things as they went along; they knew that any technical difficulties would be forgiven by just getting the job done in the best possible way, even if that meant one of the members playing, tuning or programming two or three instruments at any one time. They were an experience to behold, and take the mantle of The Best At Big Day Out.
That said, I had to leave early for Arcade Fire and two horrid moments came one after the other. The first was being elbowed and winded to the ground by a shirtless idiot who was probably on ice. I can mind all the fluoro twats in the world, yet cannot and will not ever tolerate unreasonably violent dipshits. The second was, after getting to the front of the oddly-tame outfield in front of the Orange Stage (all the crazy moshers, I assume, were waiting for rage on the Blue Stage side), I had to face five minutes of this odd band that call themselves contemporary Silverchair. The band was really defined by the fact that the crowd were singing louder and better than Daniel Johns, leaving the guy craving attention. Not as bad as OP or Tom Morello’s Night-thingy, yet still a really mediocre sight. Although I do want to see how Silverchair would do in their own gig, preaching to the converted.
Arcade Fire were everything I expected them to be and more. I lack words to describe them. They left me in the same state the The Killers did after All These Things That I’ve Done, or U2 after Where The Streets Have No Name, having somewhat been blessed with the music that has defined some of the best moments of my life. My only quibble was that they didn’t play Black Mirror. But I seriously can’t complain. No, I can’t. It’s too damn impossible. I love them too much and they were just perfect. I also made a video of the last minute and a half of Keep The Car Running, taht I will post up at a later date
This is my favourite photo of the day, mostly becasue it came out so well from so far away. And its Win Butler!
After this cool Lightning thing that I couldn’t get a decent photo of at all, Tim Commerford, Brad Wilk, Tom Morello and Zach De La Rocha – the four men that make up the reformed and highly-anticipated Rage Against The Machine – appeared on stage and launched themselves full-throttle into Testify. They followed with all their hits, their fans soaking it up like a sponge, with the band engaging the 40000-strong audience as much as possible. That said, De La Rocha didn’t seem all that fit to be singing or rapping his songs. He had the energy to jump all over the place like a headless chicken, but just lacked the power in his vocals to really make every song incredible. Nevertheless, jumping around like a juvenile delinquent, willingly obliging to be apart of the irony that is following a chant of “Fuck You! I Won’t Do What You Tell Me!” with both middle fingers in the air was mighty fun.
Photo taken just as Killing In The Name ended
I spent the last moments of my festival experience seeing a few minutes of Paul Kelly (who I’ve already seen… five times…) and chasing a friend around the boiler room during Carl Cox (who sounded great as always). This was followed by the cloakroom, handing in a nifty camera that I found on the floor of the main arena to lost and found, pancakes, free Coca-Cola and a train home. Overall, I was surprised on how nice people were (especially in the orange stage outfield, it was literally an Arcade Fire fan party! People were so nice!), bar a few, especially in regards to my picture-taking, and generally how well managed the place was minus the immense litter. Not to mention how good some of the artists were.
Now, who I missed yet wanted to see:
Faker: Might have actually had a better time watching them then Josh Pyke, wont ever know, but I’ll definitely catch them at their own gig.
Brothablack: Mate of a mate of mine, and the Hot House is easily my favourite venue of the day.
Mercy Arms: Hype-machine overload band. Would have liked to see if they matched it.
Gyroscope: Are You Involved? was a great record. They perform a lot locally, so here’s to hoping they’ll do Come Together or something.
Regurgitator: Living Legends. Clashed with Dizzee
LCD Soundsystem: Brilliant musicians. Seeing New York I Love You would have been an experience comparable to that of Arcade Fire. Clashed with Rage Against The Machine.
Shy Child: Just got into their stuff. Would have been a fun band to see. Also see praises of the Hot House above.
Bridezilla: Great band and would have loved to see them again. Forgetfulness is to blame, but it would have meant no Blue King Brown.
Björk: Obvious reason is obvious.
Overall, a great day. Will definitely go through it all again next year (and partially this year 
).
[...] the MASSIVE love for my Big Day Out post is both flattering and gratuitously accepted. Never had such a jump in views in my life! Thank you [...]
Somehow i missed the point. Probably lost in translation
Anyway … nice blog to visit.
cheers, Imbalanced!!!