Precursor to everything, it was hot! Held in the scant, industrial confines of Altona North, the site for ATP’s I’ll Be Your Mirror was a wonderfully dated oasis, desperately in need of refurbishment on the outside, sparsely adorned inside: no doubt a hub for gymbaroos, bookish tennis and ’80s consumerism.
Rolling into the large Stage One at the most intense moment of the day I’m witness to Thee Oh Sees, who are sweating it up and having a great ol’ time. Immediately the vibe is high, Thee Oh Sees cracking out perfect blasts of powered pop, including tunes from their awesome new album Floating Coffin. There’s a big, receptive crowd watching and given the magnitude of the room, Thee Oh Sees’ set manages to feel like a love-in.
Standish/Carlyon smatter the Stage Two conference room with an ambience which is part shady Berlin nightclub, part HTRK pastiche: an oddity after watching The Oh Sees. This proves to be the beauty of ATP this year; each space offering an experience as wide and as large as it needs to be.
Having hefty expectations of Swans, I was way up front and wanting. The intriguing thing about Swans is that in a way, you always get what you don’t want. Within moments of their two hour set I began to feel overwhelmed, a combination of the heat, intensity of multitudinous waves of noise, and the heady presence of Michael Gira’s sermon-like delivery. But that intensity surely fits Gira’s intent, to deliver an angular, bulging expanse of desperate and disparate rock with smatterings of anxious white space. I dealt with the blow that was Swans on and off for the best part of their two hour long set before fuelling up on tacos, caffeine, and eventually New War.
By dinnertime the heat of the day was being swept away by a subtle sea breeze, and with the lick of the sun tempered and the dusk crawling in, ATP felt like a cocoon of warm arm rubs, humid hands, and happy banter. Numbed by the very decent food on offer I segued back into darkness to hear New War’s unofficial classic Ghostwalking playing out. A full room and a spot under an AC vent, ATP had really started to feel right. Vocalist Chris Pugmire used the entire stage tonight to walk off some ideas and build momentum.
New War was no sort of book-end for Godspeed You! Black Emperor. No-one can prelude an event of such majesty and incredulousness. Performing as an eight-piece for the first time in Australia, Godspeed was the reason I was intent on being at ATP. For me Godspeed You! Black Emperor are the epitome of contemporary music. To experience their music, its architecture, at home in Melbourne somehow provides a sense of excitement which I’ve hoped for since their 1997 debut album.
Tonight Godspeed perform what is presumably akin to their standard live set. They play perhaps five or six pieces of utterly beguiling music. The evening heat has now given way to physical exhaustion, but I still remain upright, perplexed by these craftsmen. Two hours they play. Fifteen years of waiting, worth every second.
I duck out for respite, despite the thought that being front and centre for My Bloody Valentine could well prove a prudent move. It’s a coup that ATP coaxed My Bloody Valentine to Australia; they’ve played so sparsely since their astounding Loveless was releases more than 20 years ago, and now, with a brand new album on the offer, the timing is perhaps deliberate but welcome. Instead of hanging tight, I float with the crowd who exit the room only to then exit the building for some night air. I decide it would be worth catching New Zealand legends The Dead C, who’ve opened their ATP set in the cool of Stage Two. Maybe it’s the end of a long day, but their set fails to engage me, it all seemed a little pedestrian. And I expected something else.
Before I know it I’m back way back from Stage One watching My Bloody Valentine. The interesting thing about the main stage at I’ll Be Your Mirror is that even when the room looks like it couldn’t fit another soul, an alcove appears. So I navigate my way a little closer to see what I can see of one of the UK’s most iconic bands.
Tonight My Bloody Valentine regularly deliver a tidal wave of sound. A few folk are murmuring that ‘the mix is terrible’ and ‘the vocals are too low’, but seriously, have you heard any of their albums? Despite a lukewarm beginning, My Bloody Valentine flourish into a torrent of electricity. As they unveil classics from classics Loveless and Isn’t Anything, the noise of Shields’ guitar appears to literally burst forward, though he retains an air of nonchalance. It’s very much, ‘please, no theatrics, we’re My Bloody Valentine’.
After playing a couple of new tunes, and classics like Feed Me With Your Kiss and later Soon: surely one of the most incredibly beautiful pieces of music ever really, I think ‘I’ve got what I came for’. Then, stapled to the end of their set, MBV hit overdrive for what seems like a half hour; a solid, jet-propelled wall of burning noise. This is what we’re here for! Perhaps occasionally underwhelming, My Bloody Valentine are still a spectacle.
I file in on The Drones’ curated Sunday with the burning sun overhead again, but this time there’s noticeably less inner-city transplants filling the Altona space. I’m optimistic that today will provide unexpected delights.
I hear mixed reports about early sets from Crime & The City Solution, but glowing reports about My Disco. The Drones are on-stage when I arrive and they sound pretty boisterous. It must be a great feeling for them to be performing and curating such a milestone event, and Gareth Liddiard suggests as much towards the end of their hour and 15 minute long set.
I see two songs from Harmony, and then about half of Pere Ubu’s remaking of their debut album The Modern Dance. My buddy Dave Lang had clammy palms waiting for this, but somehow the irony, the humour, the musicality is lost on me today. The brand new Pere Ubu album Lady From Shanghai is a great, weird boogie record, but tonight, David Thomas’ banter and his odd references don’t really hit the mark.
Lost Animal on the other hand put in a flawless performance. Expanded to a six piece, Lost Animal sound freer and more defined than I’ve seen them; the addition of a keyboard player and the ever excellent Lewis Boynes on guitar provides Jarrod Quarrell with breathing room, and the large crowd who are gyrating and singing along seem equally impressed.
It seems odd to suggest that Sunday at ATP was ‘more rock’ than Saturday, but there’s probably a hair of truth in it. Saturday was definitively post-rock heavy, but Sunday, in particular The Drones and Beasts Of Bourbon, smelled of car oil and sweat.
The reformed Beasts of Bourbon trucked through what may have been a ‘best of’ selection. Indeed, I adored hearing the likes of Psycho, Evil Ruby, Graveyard Train and Let’s Get Funky again live. What they lacked in match-practice, the Beasts made up for in swagger. Older and more worn, Tex and crew genuinely seemed to have fun and they’re at ATP, they could have been at the Prince of Wales.
Back in 1991, an odd and most foreign entity toured Australia. With an unpronounceable name and an indescribable sound, Einstürzende Neubauten were about as unfathomable a thing anyone could get back then, touring a country so removed from Europe, and so otherwise unsure about its place. Now it’s 2013, so much time has passed, and women are slow dancing to Neubauten. Sure it is perceivable but considering the sum of their parts, it still seems odd.
Back in the day Neubauten were infamous for hitting a new town and then hitting the local tip for musical equipment and inspiration. When the stagehands roll out an enormous framework of tubes and tubs, pipes, shards of steel and other forms, it’s clear 1991 isn’t really that long ago.
Blixa Bargeld remains wiser than us all, but his tone is welcoming and the feverous performance from all on stage is captivating. There’s definitely something amorous in their set, on every level it’s unlike anyone else around. Despite being intense and intriguing, Bargeld and Neubauten are generous musicians, inviting you into their world if only for an evening. But a question I posed to myself in the heat of the evening, and the daze of another performance witnessed, I wonder how Blixa could have carried himself in such a heavy set outfit; a three-piece suit that almost looked like it were made of calf skin no less.
Let it be said, I’m not a fan of festivals. My personal space, a full belly, the scent of a long day unwashed, these are all key to defining a good time. But I’ll Be Your Mirror was, I think, an unquestionable success. Outside of the occasionally uncomfortable heat and a little dehydration, I loved every minute. Musically, the lineup was exceptional, unrepeatable perhaps, socially it was a relaxing environment where there was little distraction from security, or fanfare, or chaos. Vote ATP.
BY STEVE PHILLIPS
Photo credit: Cassandra Kiely
LOVED: The event that it was.
HATED: Not having time to play indoor tennis.
DRANK: Water by the litre.
