With mega festivals such as Big Day Out and Soundwave now buried beneath the soil, Laneway has become the hottest touring festival of the Aussie summer. Those deceased festivals had their respective heydays, but the bigger they became, the less friendly they were. I don’t think anyone nostalgically reflects on time spent standing in a long line for drink tickets ahead of entering a caged off area to wait in another long line to buy an overpriced drink (while missing three bands in the process). Tickets for Laneway Melbourne again sold out in advance, and once again the sun tirelessly beat down on the Footscray Community Arts Centre. But Laneway 2016 was as friendly as ever.
Although the program mightn’t have been characterised by obscure, underground acts, it wasn’t entirely dedicated to those with mass appeal either. Up early on the Dean Turner stage, gleeful Brisbane indie poppers Blank Realm cultivated familial vibes, appearing utterly at ease in their own skins and showing the rest of us how to do so. Silicon was disappointingly kicked off the tour, and Ali Barter filled his slot on the Very West stage with some sweet – and safe – pop rock.
Canadian duo Majical Cloudz took advantage of the gutsy subs of the hillside Mistletone stage. An early highlight, their set overcame usual festival drawbacks to lucidly explicate melancholy in an understated but no less powerful way. Grungy punk trio Metz continued the Canadian dominance of the hillside. Metz’s angsty and technically intense performance was abetted by vicious instrumental tones. However, it all came packaged with a smile; not so much an assault as it was an incentive to let loose.
Over on the Future Classic stage, Shamir adopted a vastly different tact to Metz, but was just as successful in getting bodiesmoving. Backed by a four-piece band, including a co-leading female vocalist, Shamir’s Motown-indebted, electro soul provided a more than acceptable reason for skipping lunch. Soul stayed on the Future Classic stage, but the tone drastically shifted when Thundercat (AKA Stephen Bruner) led a three-piece band of stupidly advanced jazz/funk practitioners. Despite being the only act on this stage to go without backing tracks, Thundercat’s performance was the day’s busiest instrumental display. Bruner’s manipulation of the six-string bass defied all standards of good taste, and he was effusively matched by drummer Justin Brown who appeared to be at the mercy of a speed-loaded puppeteer.
Moving back to Mistletone, Health did a good job at tying together the extremities of the festival lineup, covering the ferocity of Metz and High Tension, learned technicality of Battles and pop sensibilities of Chvrches and Purity Ring. It was a bass-heavy and song-centric performance that painted the band as professional noisemakers rather than troublemaking punks. The Internet held the big crowd at the Dean Turner stage in the palms of their hands. Their albums revolve around slinky, laidback neo-soul, but today they injected a dose of piss and vinegar, with frontwoman Syd tha Kyd proving a hypnotic leader.
There were plenty of acts on the lineup that didn’t qualify as young and hip, but it was Battles who owned the longest standing international reputation. As such, they gave lessons in just how to attack a festival set. Indeed, there was plenty of attack, but Battles’ finest attribute is how they balance dynamically-soaked jazz punk freakouts with moments of restraint. Legends of their domain, there was nothing to do but marvel at the seeming ease with which they smashed through crowd favourites The Yabba and Atlas.
Vince Staples started by telling us if we weren’t ready to go crazy, then he didn’t want us there. It sounds like an attempt to intimidate the crowd, but Staples genuinely wanted to stimulate something singular. While he mightn’t have got quite the response he was asking for, it was definitely an engaged crowd, au fait with the material from Staples’ excellent debut, Summertime ‘06. He was full of charisma, praising our “beautiful city” and thanking us for putting our “Anglo Saxon hands in the air.” But once the beat kicked in, he became an unrelenting MC relating experiences that’d fuel a lifetime of nightmares.
Laneway refrains from naming definitive headliners, but Chvrches’ closing set on the Dean Turner stage had all the necessary ingredients to recommend them as headliners for any festival in the world. Frontwoman Lauren Mayberry didn’t let up during the 50-minute display, fluttering from stage right to left and back again, while extending defiant lyrical refusals to be submissive. Mayberry’s two bandmates are often regarded as mere sidemen, but they exhibited equal energy as they crammed on synth loops and trance beats. Chvrches haven’t written anything short of a certified synth pop banger, and it was a near-ecstatic end to an inspiring day’s entertainment.
LOVED: A lot of stuff.
HATED: Old man legs.
DRANK: In place of friends.
BY AUGUSTUS WELBY
Photo By Simon Atkinson
