Meredith Music Festival

After a late night at Q + A, I was up early in order to be at my friend Glen's place in Northcote by midday. He wanted us all there by 11am, so we could get away by 12, but I didn't understand the fuss for leaving so early, and stalled a little (for which I now apologise profusely - next year I want to get away as early as possible in order to get a good campsite!). Eventually we met, we prevaricated, we packed, and eventually we got underway in the 12-seater Budget minivan that Glen had hired. Talk about organised!

After much music and laughter (and a couple of beers on the road, or ciders in my case) we stopped for a late lunch in Ballan, and then at about 4.30pm we turned onto the dusty road which led to the Merdith Music Festival site, a farm about 2 & 1/2 hours outside Melbourne. We also hit a queue of traffic that was banked up a fair way, but it wasn't long before we were inside, and setting up our campsite, nicknamed 'the Northcote Social Plaza'. By ringing our tents together, with the entrances all facing inwards, and a shadecloth in the centre backing onto the van, we created our own little village of nine people, as you can see in the photo below.

One of the beauty's of Meredith is that there's only one stage, and a very friendly atmosphere, although now that it's grown to 10,000 people, some of the intimacy of its earlier years (this year was the 15th annual Meredith) has apparently been lost. Still, it struck me as a very friendly crowd; much more community-oriented than say, the Big Day Out crowd.

The stage, set in the 'supernatural ampitheatre' is surrounded by trees that provide some much-needed shade during the day. The joy of having a single stage is that you don't have to miss any of the bands except through choice: perhaps you want to wander back to your tent for a break, or decide to go sit in the Pink Flamingo Bar for a while, or the outdoor cinema.

Friday night's highlights included a great set by Melbourne band City City City, who are kind of post-rock, but not really; their decidedly non-rock stylings, which included keyboards harmonising with a trumpet, definitely seemed to confuse some of the crowd (who were probably there to see some of the more hyped rock acts the following night, I suspect). Check out their debut album The Perimeter Motor Show if you get the chance.

Next was Okkervil River, a US indie band with a hint of folk to their cerebral tunes. While I liked them, about halfway through their set I got a little restless, and so went for a drink at the bar, but I made sure I was back for the Bollywood Spectacular, which was decidely left-of-centre, cheesy and silly, but wonderful fun! Yes, camp hi-NRG Bollywood tunes and live synchronised dancing from a troupe in traditional costume. A breath of fresh air after the seriousness of Okkervil River.

Glen loved guitar-and-drums duo The Mess Hall, but while I enjoyed them, I wasn't blown away. By the time they finished it was after midnight, I was buzzing nicely, and had consumed quite a few cans. A midnight ride on the ferris wheel followed (obviously the pic below was taken on the Saturday night), as we wanted to see just how far the twinkling lights of the tents stretched; then, after a few more beers, it was time for the 2am headlining act, You Am I.
Tim Rogers was sober, and didn't fall off the stage once (unlike a Tasmanian show earlier this year), which to my mind, would have made for a better gig. I've never really liked You Am I - I think they're perfectly competent, but also totally unexciting.

I had a good reason for hanging around and watching their gig though, as I was sort-of-trying to crack onto one of the guys who'd come up with us, Rob, who was at his fourth Meredith, and who was a big You Am I fan. I'd been told by a couple of our group that he was 'uncertain' about his sexuality, and since he was damn cute, and since I've always been attracted by the grey area of sexuality that lies between gay and straight, or bi and straight, I decided to make a move. I didn't succeed, cos he is actually straight, but we still hung out anyway; he's a cool guy, and it's always good to make a new friend.

Saturday began with a hangover, so it wasn't until 12 that I wandered back down to the stage to check out The Grates. Unfortuntely I was still too fragile to enjoy them, so I went off and grabbed a massage and a miso soup, after which I was feeling much more wholesome.

I actually spent most of Saturday afternoon just hanging out with friends, bumping into more friends, and drinking and taking speed, rather than watching the bands, although I caught some of Stephen Malkmus and the Jicks (a little too self-indulgent for me) and Cut Copy (good fun, but rather New Orderish).

Next on the lineup was Airbourne, a bunch of kids from Warnambool around who much hype has developed, and who have apparently already signed a massive record deal. I thought they were third-rate AC/DC clones whose attempts at irony fell flat ("This next song's for all you heartbreakers out there. It's called 'Heartbreaker!'). Far too many of the crowd seemed to be lapping up their standard rock poses so I stalked off to the Pink Flamingo Bar in disgust, returning to the stage in order to get down the front in time for sublime Scottish band Sons and Daughters, who put on a fantastic show, and were my personal highlight of the weekend.

To save me trying to describe them, here's their blurb from the Meredith website:

"SONS AND DAUGHTERS From Glasgow, Scotland. Impeccable pedigree. First time visitors to our shores. Who can be bothered describing what they do? Check any of the world's best music press if you want descriptions. 'Think Nick Cave throwing knives at Johnny Cash' say the NME. Throw in a teaspoon of The Cramps' harnessed hotness, and a suggestion of the Violent Femmes' better gothic leanings, but female. And silkier and poppier. With mandolin. I knew I shouldn't have tried to describe it. Album of the Year according to one national Australian broadsheet. Feted in certain circles the world over, and rightly so. Classy, glossy, sexy, punky, traditional, accomplished, exciting in every sense. And good live."

They were too. The gig was given that touch of joy because I ran into the irrepressible Mary-Jane Fenech down the front, a girlfriend from RRR, who it's always a delight to see.

Next was Wolfmother. Yawn. More unoriginal regurgitated rock from a band who need a couple of years to properly develop and stop wearing their Led Zep influences on their sleeves.

After Wolfmother, things got interesting. The Avalanches DJ show kicked in, as did people's drugs. And verily, there was much drinking, dancing, hugging, talking of gibberish and watching 'The Adventures of Plastic Man' until the early hours of the morning. I got to bed just before dawn, myself, and plenty of people were still going in the morning. Sadly I missed the morning Tai Chi class. Oh well, there's always next year.

Sunday was a laid-back musical affair. I really dug the African rythyms of King Marong and Safara, although Claire Bowditch didn't really do it for me. It was around this time that the tree-woman did her thing: hanging upside down by one leg in a tree while licking its bark, humping the trunk, and generally being off her dial on verrrrrrrry powerful drugs. Don't take the brown acid!

Blackalicious converted a lot of people I think, with the best hip-hop I heard all weekend, and not even the heat and the hangovers/coming down could stope the crowd from grinning and gyrating.

Next up, and for me the real highlight of the final day of Meredith, was the running of the annual Meredith Gift, a notorious short and naked footrace. Yes, a nude race. I of course, participated, having discovered the pleasure of public nudity a couple of years ago, when I took part in the infamous dawn Spencer Tunick photoshoot, which saw 5000 naked people draped across Melbourne's Princess Bridge.

Together with new friend Anna, who was nervous but ultimately glad she took part, and my girlfriend Sam and another of her girlfriend's whose name I've unfortunately forgotten, we lined up at the very end of the race. No competitive naked running for us; no. With dignity and decorum, we held hands and skipped along behind the race-runners, to much appreciation from the crowd. Sure wish I had a few pictures. It hardly need be pointed out, of course, that I am a very manly skipper. ;-)

Then, having already packed up our tents, we packed the van, stopped for a final, communal photo, and drove home via Bacchus Marsh's fine fish and chip shop for dinner. Glen dropped me home at about 8pm, and having only had an average of four hours sleep a night for the past three nights, and because I had to be up at 4am for my first stint at presenting Summer Breakfasters on RRR, I was in bed by 10pm.

Huge thanks and hugs to Glen, for organising our posse, and hugs to all the gang. I miss Meredith already, and I can't WAIT until next year. Oh, and Darren, thanks heaps for the photos!