A balls-to-the-floor entry by heavy riff stalwarts Warped christened the 23rd annual Meredith Music Festival stage with absolute precision. The perfect mix of screaming guitars, booming rhythms and the hiss of surrounding punters cracking their fifth tinnies of the weekend was the perfect entry point to get the crowd on side nice and early.
Oliver Perry aka D.D Dumbo was a last minute replacement for Vance Joy who unfortunately had to drop off the bill due to an ongoing vocal injury. Proving to be no bench warmer, he kicked off his set with his debut single Tropical Oceans, a track that shows off his soaring vocal melodies, turbulent drum loops and dynamic guitar work. Pounding on his electric12 string and the heart strings of many onlookers, he followed up with I Woke Up Covered In Sand which made for an intoxicating mix of instrumentation and an unorthodox performance style. A real brewing musical talent from country town Castlemaine, the humble lad held the crowd in awe seeing out his set with heavy applause and dropped jaws all around.
Melbourne electro-popsters World’s End Press took the honour of playing Meredith’s first after-dark set, and they didn’t disappoint. The stage lightshow shone in all its psychedelic glory as the boys shifted the weekend’s aural direction from rock to bop for the first time. With their now well-oiled live show unashamedly set to party-start, it was a return to the Sup’ both deserved and well received.
The Brian Jonestown Massacre provided somewhat of a come down from the discoliscious pump of World’s End Press, but their driving psych was exactly what many an addled mind need to focus and find a groove. Clairy Browne & the Bangin’ Rackettes, Melbourne’s answer to culture, sex appeal and swing, put on a positively simmering set that set many a tongue wagging. Backed up by the one man-party machine Le1f, the crowd’s thirst for electronic indulgence took over for the rest of the evening.
Jon Hopkins took to the stage at just past 2am. Having rose to prominence earlier this year through his stunning record Immunity, Hopkins glided through an hour-long soundscape of ebbing and flowing electronica. Collider is all-immersive and over-powering of the crowd, while the pounding euphoria of We Disappear releases them back into the ether.
WA export and now Melbourne local Roland Tings provided the closing soundtrack to the opening night. A set comprised of sprawling builds and deep hooks took many an addled mind up then down, up then down, and with his final crescendo Silence Wedge took over, leaving the slurs of the days memories providing the entertainment as the sole survivors of the night trekked back to their campsite.
Kicking off the proceedings for day two of the festival was Melbourne’s latest indie darling Courtney Barnett. This girl’s vibe is polarising – it’s one you’ll either love or hate. I’m steadfastly sitting in ‘camp love’ for Courtney. In a word, she’s just so ‘Melbourne’. Songs about smoking bongs and masturbating get down to the nitty gritty of what it’s like to be 20-something and living in Northcote, though don’t be fooled by the simplicity of it all; these lyrics are masterfully crafted, brimming with Australiana, all laid bare with her distinctive drawl. Her songs are tainted with a hopeless feeling, or maybe it’s just indifference. For those familiar with the spoken word-style History Eraser, this one did not disappoint. Other tracks had her imperfect and unabashed vocals (think Dylan) on display for all, which for me make them all the more endearing and real.
While Barnett’s opening set of the day was solid, it perhaps wasn’t enough to motivate many to shed their hangover and start a fresh. The inspiration to embrace the hair of the dog was Canadian slacker-Sinatra Mac Demarco. He and his bands slayed the audience with highlights that included covers of Robert Palmer and a bizarre interpretation of Limp Bizkit’s Break Stuff alongside Demarco crowd surfing 150 metres to the mixing desk.
You’d be forgiven to overlook Jo-Vaughn Virginie Scott, otherwise known as Brooklyn rapper Joey Bada$$ as a well seasoned player, the way he hit the stage with his deep vocal splits and retro rhyming style. But sipping and spitting his lyrical twists with such confidence and presence, it’s no wonder Kendrick Lamar is obsessed with this 19-year-old wunderkind. Everything about his Australian debut capped off at Meredith was perfect. There was no glitz or glamour, it was just straight up hood with only a mic and his DJ slamming down some serious beats and backing vocals. With tracks off his well hyped 2013 Summer Knights LP, Hilary $wank, Sweet Dreams and Trap Door he had the whole crowd under his lyrical spell and old school call-and-response routine. Nice shout rocking the AC/DC shirt to boot, too.
With the early evening brought a slight respite from the day’s harsh sun, just in time for Tex and co to hit the Sup’. Whatever incarnation the Beasts of Bourbon take on, it’s always going to be commanding with Tex at the helm. He’s gruff, he’s charismatic, and he’s in his element when he’s onstage. And it wouldn’t be a show of Tex’s without a few laughs thrown in for good measure, provided by the toy parrot that was thrown onstage. Spencer P Jones rounds out the talent perfectly on guitar as usual for this 45 minutes of down’n’dirty rock’n’roll. These guys are only getting better with age.
Following the stupendous ridiculousness of Hermitude’s set was going to be a tough ask at that time of day (Get In My Life from their album Hyper Paradise saw an all-inclusive Amphitheatre jump-along of the like I haven’t seen since Pharoahe Monch dropped Simon Says in 2009), but Spiderbait’s stage presence and banter carried itself with enough charm and familiarity to keep the evening swaying energetically along. It’s easy to forget the volume of hits these dudes pumped out in the ’90s, with songs like Calpsyo seemingly forever ensconced in Meredith’s collective memory. Their set was somewhat of a crowd pleaser with only a couple of tracks from their new album, although the omission of Buy Me A Pony left many a fan wondering. They suitably closed out with their Black Betty rendition, the dirty pace of it driving the Sup’ in a frenetic wobble.
Returning swiftly following their appearance at the 2012 Golden Plains, Nile Rodgers and Chic provided the centrepiece for the Saturday night. While arguably remaining overly similar (if not exact to the tee) to their Amphitheatre performance 21 months ago, their musicianship and group dynamics were flawless. A wall-to-wall hit fest, Rodgers lead the crowd down the path of his career, laying down Chic’s Everybody Dance, Good Times and Le Freak alongside his self-bolstered productions such as Sister Sledge’s I Want Your Love, Madonna’s Like A Virgin and a blockbuster rendition of David Bowie’s Let’s Dance. Flanked by his two divas and a phenomenal backing band, as the ubiquitous Get Lucky flowed throughout the speakers as he thanked the crowd, there was no mistaking that this night truly belonged to Rodgers.
Having recently retired from DJing to pursue teaching, Tranter’s late-night set was his self-declared “comeback”. An hour and a half-long throwdown of his signature party jams, he set up the Amphitheatre for an all-night marathon of debauchery, rinsing the ilk of Crystal Castles, Haim and The Strokes. Could 2014 be the year for Tranter to revive his Gameboy/Gamegirl outfit for a set in the Sup’? We can only hope.
Beats In Space head-honcho Tim Sweeney returned for his third Meredith appearance, but this time took to the decks at 2am rather than closing out the Saturday night. A crate-digging connoisseur like no other, Sweeney shifted effortlessly from house and disco to whimsy techno, with his penchant for juxtaposing early ’70s dance floor fodder alongside the most prominent emerging records providing a three-for-three track record of memorable Meredith performances from the New York native.
Shifting the mood, Detroit techno don Derrick May went on to provide a relentless and pounding two hours of hard-hitting rhythms direct from the 313. While arguably providing a more club-friendly performance than the open-air setting he was given, May ensured he kept the crowd salivating on each and every of his moves, with his precision-perfect mixing creating waves of euphoria which flooded through speakers.
Closing out the Saturday night, Melbourne’s disco don Andee Frost took to the stage at 5.30am. Swilling whiskey and smoking the odd cigarette, Frost rinsed through his signature muddled disco and house much to the crowds adoration. Nearing the completion of his set, Pachanga Boy’s Time echoed through the Amphitheatre, providing the perfect soundtrack for those stumbling back to their campsites with the intention of keeping the party flowing. A much more fitting ending to the evening than in 2010 when DJ Harvey smashed his gear which ruined Frost’s rare Bozak mixer.
After the Sunday morning Meredith tradition of partaking in Master Song’s chilled-out Tai Chi class, we’re thrown head first in the deep end with some droney psychedelia courtesy of Baptism Of Uzi. A rather sparse crowd made it down for their 10am set, as a great deal of punters had ended their night with the music’s close at 7am. If you were one of these who spent their set sleeping, make sure you put this on your bucket list of bands to watch. Their music takes the bygone sounds of ’60s krautrock and ’80s shoegaze and breathes new life into them, with synchronised guitars and head-swaying basslines. They closed out their set just as they had opened, with drawn-out instrumentals that were kind to my sorry head.
Rounding out the psych-heavy weekend were five babes on guitars, with Beaches providing the perfect Sunday afternoon soundtrack for laying about in the shade sipping a couple of tinnies. What I love about these girls is that they don’t take themselves too seriously; watching them onstage feels like sitting in a garage with them while they’re having one long jam session. Their meandering, fuzzy guitar-heavy songs were intersperse by some poppier numbers, such as single Send Them Away. While there were a couple of feedback issues during their set, and the vocals were lower than I would have expected, overall their set was entrancing from its hypnotic start to its droney finish.
And with that, the festival had come to a conclusion for yet another year. As many retreated back to their campsites rather than watching jiggling genitalia in The Gift, the hangover and post-Meredith blues began to set in. It’s in that weary and fragile state of mind that one can only truly begin to comprehend the importance of Meredith to our national musical landscape. 23 years on and still kicking under the original ethos, Meredith is as much about the familial and cultural experience as it is the music. And as always, on both fronts, it didn’t disappoint. Hats off to you, Aunty. See you in March for Golden Plains.
BY TYSON WRAY, ALI HAWKEN, KRIS FURST, ALEKSEI PLINTE AND DAN WATT
Photos by Dan Watt
Loved: Tinnies.
Hated: Lack of tinnies left for the trip home.
Drank: Water.
