Almost four hours outside of Melbourne, near the border of Victoria and New South Wales, past the giant strawberry, down a winding dirt road, you’ll find Strawberry Fields. But these aren’t the type of fields that cultivate those red, succulent, juicy berries. Nope. These fields harvest thumping bass, towering melodies and a reality that isn’t so real, for just a little while. In its sixth year, Strawberry Fields played host to a bounty of international and local talent, spanning from techno to psytrance to soul. Now let’s take it back to the bush, to those three days of tunes, grooves and debauchery as experienced through the haze of that Strawberry dust.
The music didn’t kick off until 4pm on Friday, leaving punters plenty of time to get settled in and explore. Upon heading into the main festival area, the first thing I noticed was that organisers set up the stages in a different layout than last year. The bamboo Wildlands Main Stage was placed strategically in a tree-filled enclave with the perfect amount of room for a dance floor, while the Deep Jungle Stage was about a five minute walk off, just far enough away to avoid any noise-bleed, but close enough to make it easy to jump between acts. The third stage, the Wildlands Saloon was located in the middle of the two main stages, with a DJ booth placed on top of a fully-functioning bar straight out of the wild, wild west. To cap it off, the beloved Double Dragon Tea Lounge was positioned near the entrance of the main festival grounds, making it the perfect spot to lounge around, take in a yoga class and watch some live painting.
Following an opening ceremony that I didn’t manage to catch, Melbourne’s Sleep D took the decks, christening the Main Stage as it became engulfed in that familiar Strawberry cloud of dust. It was way too early for the old Strawberry cough and like clockwork, dancers turned into bandits as they tied bandanas around their faces to guard against the swelling dirt.
German duo Pachanga Boys headlined Friday night, coming off of their show earlier in the week at Queen Victoria Market for Melbourne Music Week. Taking the stage around at 9.30pm, Superpitcher and Robolledo delivered two hours of sweeping “hippie dance.” At about the halfway mark, those familiar breathy vocals gently rolled through to reveal Time. The duo have said that they sometimes don’t play it because they don’t think its the right moment, but as a flood of goosebumps rushed across the bush, I don’t think there was any question that Time belonged at Strawberry.
Another highlight of Friday night was Melbourne psytrance messiah Terrafractyl, closing out the Deep Jungle Stage. Often described as “psytrance for those who don’t like psytrance,” Greenlees didn’t disappoint, coming through with piano driven, funk influenced psy. Incorporating tracks from his 2012 release, Electronic Evolution, songs like The Power Of Your Mind and Prerecongition fueled the formation of huge clouds of dust as hoards of feet stomped in approval.
The stages closed at 2.30am on Friday night, giving people plenty of time to rest ahead of a full Saturday. But to much dismay, the main stages packed up early on Saturday as well, closing at 4am. This was an unusual move for a festival that has in previous years kept the Main Stage pumping through the early morning. Whether it be due to permit issues or other unknown reasons, the lack of sunrise sets definitely was a bit of a disappointment.
But what the Strawberry lacked in programming, it made up for in aesthetics. Roaming around the wildlands, the grounds were nothing less than a psychedelic playground. Those who wandered off into the woods were met with jungle gym-like structures, bringing back childhood memories of bouncing around in giant nets tied to wooden posts. Those relaxing under the big top of the Double Dragon Tea Lounge could watch as technicolour brushstrokes brought canvases to life. For those in need of relief from the blistering sun, muddy watering holes served as cocoa coloured swimming pools. For those looking at the person walking past, they were faced with their own sort of human art installation, adorned with glitter, doof dirt and maniacal costumes, on display against an idyllic backdrop akin to Australia’s own Sherwood forest. And let’s not forget that “Jesus died for your bins” posse sauntering around.
The Mercury on Saturday was forecasted to shoot to 35 degrees, but with overhead sprinklers stepping in as salvation at the Main Stage, the sun proved to be no obstacle to those wanting to get in a good daytime stomp. Luckily, it dipped behind the clouds throughout the day, making the weather not only bearable, but surprisingly comfortable. Frenchman Brawther hit the decks around 4pm, delivering one of the strongest sets of Saturday. With only a few releases under his belt and a new EP to be released soon, he’s one of the more mysterious, but buzzed about names in house music. Proving why, he pumped out a blissful hour of silky smooth cuts, including a treat of a selection sampling the Tronco Traxx classic, Walk 4 Me.
As the sun began to duck behind the trees, painting the sky from gray to burnt orange, Germany’s Matthias Meyer took the stage. Hailed for his textured, multi-layered take on house and techno, he took the crowd with a mesmerising journey, made all the more hypnotizing by a swell of swirling lights. Later on, this tranquility would be disrupted when a monster storm rolled through the festival, drenching the crowd and illuminating Strawberry with mother nature’s own kind of light show.
Everyone knows the last day is always the best day, and Strawberry Sunday proved to follow suit. Early risers or those who just hadn’t given in to sleep yet welcomed the morning sun with a techno breakfast courtesy of Melbourne’s Freeform Collective. With a four hour block at the Deep Jungle Stage, Dan White, Unfettered, Louis McCoy and Harold delivered spacey tunes that were just the right side to that bacon and egg roll.
Over at the Main Stage, Seth Troxler launched off at noon, instantly getting the party going. His two hour set traversed sun bleached Detroit techno and house with a little bit of Latin flair, grooving all the way. Embracing the Aussie doof scene, he stuck around after his performance to take in the festival, chatting amongst the crowd. A later post on his Facebook page said that he was unable to make his Brisbane show due to “flight problems in the bush,” but with a rep like Troxler’s, I have a feeling other reasons could be to blame.
On the back of Troxler came Stimming, and while I could appreciate his minimalistic stylings, it was hard to ignore the sudden dip of energy and sparseness of bodies on the dancefloor. Showcasing selections from across his three LPs, the Hamburg-based producer made his way through tracks like Third of June and whistle-epic Melodica.
Last up were German duo Âme, who were tasked with closing out the Main Stage for four hours. Incorporating a sprinkling of genres, the pair picked the energy right back up. Of course, the sound of Rej thundering through the huge Funktion 1 soundsystem made for a big moment, but their closer, Fatima Yamaha’s What A Girl To Do, was easily one of the best surprises of the day.
In the middle of Âme, I snuck over to the Deep Jungle stage to check out Swede HNNY, only to find out that he had cancelled. Somewhat making up for the news was the revelation that Max Graef would now be playing a two hour set. He too, was one of the acts that I was most looking forward to and he didn’t disappoint, coming through with his jazz and hip hop tinged brand of techno.
As the two main stages came to a close for 2014, littered with wrinkled bucket hats, empty goon bags, mud-caked shoes and shattered glowsticks, the masses made their way over to the Wildlands Saloon and Double Dragon Tea Lounge to continue the festivities. The Saloon played host to a wealth of local talent throughout the weekend, showcasing the strong contingent of DJs and producers coming out of Melbourne. Sunday was no different, with 6am at the Garage and Dylan B keeping the energy going and the feet moving. Grant Camov put an exclamation point on the night with an eclectic hour of selections, capped off by Astral Projection’s 150BPM Goa classic, Mahadeva.
Once the Wildlands Saloon shut down, I made my way over to the Tea Lounge to learn that the party maestro himself, Seth Troxler was in the midst of a surprise set. The once quaint stage was packed to the brim as Troxler took the reigns and picked up right where he had left off.
And then, like that, it was over. Monday morning was gloomy, with rain spitting down almost tauntingly as baggy-eyed campers packed up their tents. The thuds off in the distance that once fueled marathon dance sessions were replaced by the sound of tires sputtering through the mud. And off we went, down the winding dirt road, past the giant strawberry, and back to a reality where time isn’t measured by the kick of a drum, where dancing isn’t considered hard work and where memories of it all would have to be enough get us through until next year.
BY LAUREN GILL
Loved: Sunday funday.
Hated: That I missed out on talking to Seth Troxler.
Drank: Too much goon.
