You know it’s been a good festival when you come home covered in bruises, with ten random hats, and the sweat of a hundred strangers entrenched in your clothes. Splendour 2014 nailed that last one as early as 4pm on Friday, when Peking Duk landed a set that was nothing short of epic. With an in-your-face intro video, guest appearances by 360, Safia, Kite String Tangle and a shit-tonne of confetti, these guys could have easily been mistaken for headliners. The vibe in the pulsing Mix Up tent was so damn good that even being whipped in the bare eyeball by a stray dreadlock didn’t stop me losing my shit.
After last year’s mudfest and the world’s longest queues, Splendour has settled into its new home in the North Byron Parklands like a happy foot in a comfy gumboot. They’ve clearly made a lot of hay with the sun shining to ensure punters were well looked after this year. It also helps that the site has one of the best natural amphitheatres around – if Kelis didn’t get your thighs working, that hill will do it for ya. Seeing a space like that fill with thousands of happy strangers is a pretty special thing, especially when they’re all shakin’ it like polaroids. Not so sure what was going on with the massive leg spread graphics behind Outkast, but hey, they sang Ms Jackson. I’m happy.
Where most major Aussie festivals seem to have their alternative entertainment on the sidelines, Splendour makes you stumble right through it. Investing in major artworks like Patricia Piccinini’s multi-nippled Skywhale and Bennett Miller’s Amish community was a top decision. Inflatables were a hit, from Glitter Militia’s Get Away From Her You Dick (a giant shark that had come back from the dead to bite off people’s cocks) to Cool Shit’s Lionel Ritchie’s Head (because, in the words of the dudes themselves, “What in this world is smoother than Lionel Ritchie’s head?”). If you’re ever lucky enough to meet Cool Shit, ask them to show you how whales are milked while busting out a death-hop rap about DVDs. Best thing you’ll ever see.
There were moments to warm the heart-cockles, like when Sydney indie-pop group Little May made all the boys swoon on Saturday morning, watching Parquet Courts’ diehard fans kick up the dust in front of the amphitheatre stage, falling in love with Phantogram, or when hands-down favourite Childish Gambino had the girl next to us high-kick so violently during 3005 that she literally tore a muscle.
We left rivalling whether our festival anthem was Peking Duk’s High or DMA’s Delete, and arguing over who did the best cover. Some were massive, like when Grouplove channelled Queen Bey with Drunk in Love, Ball Park Music’s take on Bohemian Rhapsody or when The Preatures inspired an almighty, “No way get fucked fuck off!” when they dedicated Am I Ever Gonna See Your Face Again? to their pub rock roots. The golden-clad First Aid Kit melted hearts with Simon and Garfunkel’s America and Bob Dylan’s One More Cup of Coffee, and Asgeir’s haunting version of Nirvana’s Heart Shaped Box is definitely one to look up.
For a lineup that was riddled with illness and last minute changes (London Grammar and Two Door Cinema Club both cancelling their tours), the music blew us away. But the standout feature of Splendour was the pure amount of festy love going around and the general awesome vibes of strangers. Like ‘Honest John’, who was helping crazed punters jumping on banged up cars to “recreate their grandma’s teenage pregnancy” or their “dad’s first gay experience” by giving out free popcorn at the Rock and Roll Car Yard.
Sean from Disc-go who gave us free cock socks and advice on how to avoid awkwardness while acting sex scenes. The buzzing camaraderie in the red-lit, kitsch glory of Miss Saigon’s drag queen karaoke bar. And, of course, joining the mudcrabs and half-naked acrobats at the Electric Tipi Island to channel the dance moves of Future Island’s Samuel T. Herring (damn, that guy can move).
Shout-outs to the sheer amount of buttcheek and gumboot, the group of legends rocking the silent disco without headphones who started a mass choir of Teenage Dirtbag, the wasted dude in the Borat mankini (there’s one at every festival, hey?) and the guy who braved the 30 degree heat all day in a homemade Futurama Bender costume. You are what dreams are made of and walking proof that Australia’s festival scene is alive and thriving.
BY JESSICA HAMILTON
Loved: Talking shit with strangers. Friendliest festy vibe I’ve ever experienced.
Hated: The dreadlock in the eyeball actually sucked.
Drank: Goon and DC – it’s actually pretty good.
