A couple of reviews ensued and momentum started to gather for a properly home grown festival, which is where Down on the Farm came in. “Lots of people were very excited about the prospect of an event that was run by local people and not standard promoters” says Samira Healey, one of the core five organising the event. “This year we’ve become official in that we’ve advertised and invited people other than just friends to the gig. But it’s all centered around the Psychos, and that genre, and supporting Australian live music.”
Healey’s pretty fond of the Psychos and she can still remember first listening to those kings of loud, Aussie punk rock. “That love started back in the late ‘80s early ‘90s,” she reflects. “I was doing a labouring job and I was living with my brother. I used to come home and put on Psychos records just to unwind – it’s classic music like that.”
It’s unsurprising Healey’s now doing something music related. “My father’s an old, stalwart jazz musician from Melbourne,” she explains. “We grew up with that being his main gig, which also meant that I grew up in and out of nightclubs, bars, pubs and the various other places that he worked. Because of that background, it also meant liaising with bands and music people has always been very familiar to me.”
In keeping with the idea that it’d be nice to keep this somewhat intimate, tickets are limited to 1000. It’s also in-keeping with the festival’s home-grown and down to earth philosophy. For instance, in their FAQs it specifies “no dickheads,” which is good because dickheads just ruin things. This approach also, in part, can be traced back to the Psychos. “The real charm of the Psychos is encapsulated in the famous quote by Ross Knight on the film: ‘I’m just a fuckin’ farmer’,” Healey explains. “That’s uniquely Australian, that whole approach to art and an artist. He is an artist and a creative person and he’s made a whole career built around that, but there’s still that real Australian: ‘But yeah, yeah, yeah, don’t take yourself too seriously darlin’.
“I really dig that personally and I think it’s very empowering to the average Joe. That’s the appeal of the Psychos – it’s certainly the appeal for me. It inspired me to go, ‘I reckon I’ll give putting on an event a crack,’ which has been pretty challenging at times. But it’s that same philosophy really. Australians are a resourceful mob. We kind of jam it all together in the end and I like that.”
In terms Down on the Farm’s challenges, some things have been tricky and some have come together well. “It’s a big financial risk,” Healey admits. “You’ve gotta’ put a whole lot of money on the table and fly by the seat of your pants really and figure it out as you go, but that’s also great fun. It’s a very competitive market, but it’s a love job really. You don’t go into it to earn heaps of money straight off the bat, that’s for sure.
“The challenges are that you’ve got to be able to carry those costs and you’re relying on a lot of goodwill from local people and volunteers who are passionate about the project. That hasn’t been challenging at all, it’s just been amazing how 40 volunteers have all pulled together. It’s affirming I’d have to say.”
Healey’s got a good tip for punters: “Camp at the foreshore,” she urges. “We’ve got a courtesy bus that’s flitting back and forth to the coast and the foreshore camping is just divine. It’ll be nigh on empty and you can wander out of the bush and flop onto the beach post gig. Also, Boxwars are not to be missed. We are amazingly lucky to have these guys be involved. They’re just gonna’ put on such a shebang. These guys they travel around and fill out stadiums, but they’re there because Cosmic Psychos are one of their favourite bands.”
BY MEG CRAWFORD
