Let's talk fucking rock
Soundwave went off like a frog in a sock. I remain unconvinced by the "all about the music" holier-than-thou attitude of the organisers, but the event was pretty damn magnificent. Something - absence of D-barrier? trade-off of crowd interest? smaller crowd? - meant there was excellent ebb and flow in front of the main stage. Not sure putting the metal stage (face-meltingly loud by definition) in a closed space (x10) was a good decision, but hey, the canny amongst us (read also: those who have been abused by the unholy OTP of Go Team/Hi-Fi Bar) brought earplugs anyway, so whatever.
I spent the whole day in front of the main stages, anyway, which was supposed to look like this:
but actually looked more like this:
I feel like my day had two movements, each pretty much unrelated to the other.
We still don't know who actually opened the festival on the main stage, but we really quite liked them. A little Florence-y, they were very easy to listen to and made some good noise. However, since Closure in Moscow were kicked off the tour and Creepshow therefore came up next on Stage 1, we don't know who the band actually was. If anyone can advise, that would be awesome.
When Creepshow actually showed up, they were hilarious and awesome. I mean, they look like this (though dressed down on the day) and the lead chick can definitely both wail and flail. They exhorted the crowd into a circle pit, and making a big effort to pronounce Melbourne correctly. (Actually, all the bands did pretty well at this; obviously someone had been running a clinic backstage.)
Sunny Day Real Estate were such a blast from the past; I just chilled in the grandstand, feeling old. This wasn't helped by people-watching the teenagers - by which I mean t-shirt-watching - and realising that every second t-shirt had expletives on it, and I didn't see the point in any of them save three. ("Happy birthday fucker", the Faith No More tour t-shirt that I very nearly bought myself, except I had a moment of sanity about spending that sort of money on clothes I can't wear on public transport; "surprise! skull fuck", which is just too hilarious; and "too fucked up to care anymore", which has obvious cred.) Flicking through the program guide later, I realised I'd seen t-shirts for every single band on the program (including poor Closure in Moscow) except Anvil. But clearly, if you're wearing an Anvil t-shirt, you're not going to leave the metal stage all day. And more fucking power to you.
Back to paying full attention (though not leaving the grandstand, because by the time I looked over, the crowd was huge and packed solid) for Taking Back Sunday. The sound mix wasn't great (or maybe that was my distance/location being problematic) but I could still giggle along, and the antics came through loud and clear. Lazzara still needs to add the microphone helicopter to his repertoire before he tops Cedric for danger-money, but he's highly entertaining nonetheless!
And then came the Eagles of Death Metal with, unsurprisingly, a very shiny flying-V guitar that we'd marked being tuned earlier in the day. Jesse Hughes clearly views "Can you dig it?" as a form of punctuation, and in general it was just all pretty ridiculous, but the noise was good and totally conducive to further grandstand-chilling. (Hey, I'm an old lady, and I knew there was going to be the hard slog in the evening.)
Half-time: soggy chips, toilet breaks and reapplication of sunscreen. Fight fiercely, Harvard!
My plan had been to get in the crowd for Paramore, but by the time I got back from my half-time break activities, the crowd was already insane. It only got more so. It was the worst crowd I saw all day - packed tight, disorganised and staggering mosh, heaps of completely flaily surfers - and I was damn happy to be out of it. The downside to being in the grandstand was that the sound mix was weird - the bass was rattling the pigeon-proofing cage on the roof, and Hayley's voice barely came through. But hey, she is a tiny bundle of beans, and they were clearly having an awesome time, and that was pretty good.
Towards the end of the set, I rendezvoused with the Male (who'd been off at the metal stage partaking of the "sludge" of Isis, and the "bayou metal" of Clutch, and who therefore came back with a huge happy grin on his face) and we found ourselves a great spot - right in front of stage 1, on the back barrier - to enjoy the rest of festivities.
We saw Placebo a few years back, involving the Mosh Pit That Ate Lisa's Cardy, and I hadn't really done my homework for this gig (see previous comments regarding being unable to see past Mike Patton), so we were a little lost and a lot meh when they played stuff off their newest album. (As the Male said, things only get interesting when Stefan steps up and lays down the smack.) But they're always a good time, and they played Taste In Men: I was happy.
We sat down and rested our legs (OLD, I dun tole joo) during AFI, only popping up now and then to check that Davey Havok was as much of a lunatic as he was sounding (yes, yes he was). They made some pretty good noise, actually, and if it veered all over the musical spectrum, that's just a plus in our book.
And then, onto the Main Event: round 1! Jane's Addiction - aka the band that refuses to be fully dressed. Perry Farrell and Dave Novarro obviously always believe that shirts are things that happen to other people (but sequined waistcoats are the height of elegance), and the drummer had declined to wear pants this evening (but - and this is a very important point, I am looking at you, Regular John - he was not naked). They started with Up the Beach. They had scantily-clad, shibari'd, dancing geisha. They played Three Days. Perry rambled on extensively about having sex in the hotel window, and how he was now old and fat and didn't want to do that anymore. He also humped a small, plush koala that got thrown up on stage, and exhorted people to throw gold at him. We were extremely happy.
We chilled again during Jimmy Eat World, until the press of the crowd really started closing in behind us, when we stood up just in time for "Bleed American" (which was suitably awesome).
And then Mike Patton owned our souls.
He came out in his blood-red suit (the rest of the band in elegant black) and started with "Don't Dream It's Over" which was just so fucking perfect. Later, as an intro to "Last Cup of Sorrow", he did a round of "Poker Face", which is so much more believable when your poker face is likely to resemble this. They had a laptop onstage, linked up to Chat Roulette, with the camera windows shown up on the big screen, which turned up amazingly few guys masturbating during the set, and a number of awesome faces as people tried to figure out what the fuck they'd just connected to. Highlights included the guy who connected during "Easy" and called his son (I assume) over to listen/watch too, and then continued to rock out through the next song - and the grand finale of the experiment, which was Mike Patton, wearing a straw hat someone had thrown up on stage, getting all up in the screen and trying to actually interact with a friendly, nodding, completely uncommunicative chap. Other antics: badgering the crowd security to hose him down ("It's like being pissed on by God! AWESOME!"); heckling the guys in the crowd who were trying to climb up the light poles ("Up! Come on! No, what are you doing? GET BACK UP THE POLE, YOU FUCKING PUSSY!"); conducting his band like he was a human theremin.
And oh my god, his voice. The things he can fucking do with that instrument. The growls, the screams, the amazing depth and resonance, and how quickly he leaps between all of these different elements. I thought the recorded stuff was incredible, but he outdoes himself live, and after more than an hour of screeching, hollering and lunacy, he could still hit every note of "Just a Man" with beautiful clarity. OH MY GOD, this man.
They played so much awesome stuff. All the expected things, like Epic and Midlife Crisis and Gentle Art (at which point I felt a bit sorry for the girl beside me, because either she was extremely restrained or just here to support her boyfriend, because she didn't seem that into it, and I went fucking beserk during that song... and during "Cuckoo for Caca"... and...). I wasn't expecting both of "Easy" and "I Started a Joke", but I really should have been, because if Faith No More like anything, it's rubbing your nose in their stupid turned-around jokes. And after everything that I said about the impact of "Ashes to Ashes" on me as a sweet 17yo, I wasn't expecting it to be monstrously goddamn awesome live - it's fallen off my favourites list, but if there'd been a roof at that gig, it would've taken the damn thing off. They closed with "We Care A Lot", as was right and fitting.
I was so happy. SO HAPPY. The crowd was good and the vibe was ecstatic and just... holy shit, so amazing. Everything I'd hoped it would be AND BETTER.
I spent the whole day in front of the main stages, anyway, which was supposed to look like this:
but actually looked more like this:
I feel like my day had two movements, each pretty much unrelated to the other.
We still don't know who actually opened the festival on the main stage, but we really quite liked them. A little Florence-y, they were very easy to listen to and made some good noise. However, since Closure in Moscow were kicked off the tour and Creepshow therefore came up next on Stage 1, we don't know who the band actually was. If anyone can advise, that would be awesome.
When Creepshow actually showed up, they were hilarious and awesome. I mean, they look like this (though dressed down on the day) and the lead chick can definitely both wail and flail. They exhorted the crowd into a circle pit, and making a big effort to pronounce Melbourne correctly. (Actually, all the bands did pretty well at this; obviously someone had been running a clinic backstage.)
Sunny Day Real Estate were such a blast from the past; I just chilled in the grandstand, feeling old. This wasn't helped by people-watching the teenagers - by which I mean t-shirt-watching - and realising that every second t-shirt had expletives on it, and I didn't see the point in any of them save three. ("Happy birthday fucker", the Faith No More tour t-shirt that I very nearly bought myself, except I had a moment of sanity about spending that sort of money on clothes I can't wear on public transport; "surprise! skull fuck", which is just too hilarious; and "too fucked up to care anymore", which has obvious cred.) Flicking through the program guide later, I realised I'd seen t-shirts for every single band on the program (including poor Closure in Moscow) except Anvil. But clearly, if you're wearing an Anvil t-shirt, you're not going to leave the metal stage all day. And more fucking power to you.
Back to paying full attention (though not leaving the grandstand, because by the time I looked over, the crowd was huge and packed solid) for Taking Back Sunday. The sound mix wasn't great (or maybe that was my distance/location being problematic) but I could still giggle along, and the antics came through loud and clear. Lazzara still needs to add the microphone helicopter to his repertoire before he tops Cedric for danger-money, but he's highly entertaining nonetheless!
And then came the Eagles of Death Metal with, unsurprisingly, a very shiny flying-V guitar that we'd marked being tuned earlier in the day. Jesse Hughes clearly views "Can you dig it?" as a form of punctuation, and in general it was just all pretty ridiculous, but the noise was good and totally conducive to further grandstand-chilling. (Hey, I'm an old lady, and I knew there was going to be the hard slog in the evening.)
Half-time: soggy chips, toilet breaks and reapplication of sunscreen. Fight fiercely, Harvard!
My plan had been to get in the crowd for Paramore, but by the time I got back from my half-time break activities, the crowd was already insane. It only got more so. It was the worst crowd I saw all day - packed tight, disorganised and staggering mosh, heaps of completely flaily surfers - and I was damn happy to be out of it. The downside to being in the grandstand was that the sound mix was weird - the bass was rattling the pigeon-proofing cage on the roof, and Hayley's voice barely came through. But hey, she is a tiny bundle of beans, and they were clearly having an awesome time, and that was pretty good.
Towards the end of the set, I rendezvoused with the Male (who'd been off at the metal stage partaking of the "sludge" of Isis, and the "bayou metal" of Clutch, and who therefore came back with a huge happy grin on his face) and we found ourselves a great spot - right in front of stage 1, on the back barrier - to enjoy the rest of festivities.
We saw Placebo a few years back, involving the Mosh Pit That Ate Lisa's Cardy, and I hadn't really done my homework for this gig (see previous comments regarding being unable to see past Mike Patton), so we were a little lost and a lot meh when they played stuff off their newest album. (As the Male said, things only get interesting when Stefan steps up and lays down the smack.) But they're always a good time, and they played Taste In Men: I was happy.
We sat down and rested our legs (OLD, I dun tole joo) during AFI, only popping up now and then to check that Davey Havok was as much of a lunatic as he was sounding (yes, yes he was). They made some pretty good noise, actually, and if it veered all over the musical spectrum, that's just a plus in our book.
And then, onto the Main Event: round 1! Jane's Addiction - aka the band that refuses to be fully dressed. Perry Farrell and Dave Novarro obviously always believe that shirts are things that happen to other people (but sequined waistcoats are the height of elegance), and the drummer had declined to wear pants this evening (but - and this is a very important point, I am looking at you, Regular John - he was not naked). They started with Up the Beach. They had scantily-clad, shibari'd, dancing geisha. They played Three Days. Perry rambled on extensively about having sex in the hotel window, and how he was now old and fat and didn't want to do that anymore. He also humped a small, plush koala that got thrown up on stage, and exhorted people to throw gold at him. We were extremely happy.
We chilled again during Jimmy Eat World, until the press of the crowd really started closing in behind us, when we stood up just in time for "Bleed American" (which was suitably awesome).
And then Mike Patton owned our souls.
He came out in his blood-red suit (the rest of the band in elegant black) and started with "Don't Dream It's Over" which was just so fucking perfect. Later, as an intro to "Last Cup of Sorrow", he did a round of "Poker Face", which is so much more believable when your poker face is likely to resemble this. They had a laptop onstage, linked up to Chat Roulette, with the camera windows shown up on the big screen, which turned up amazingly few guys masturbating during the set, and a number of awesome faces as people tried to figure out what the fuck they'd just connected to. Highlights included the guy who connected during "Easy" and called his son (I assume) over to listen/watch too, and then continued to rock out through the next song - and the grand finale of the experiment, which was Mike Patton, wearing a straw hat someone had thrown up on stage, getting all up in the screen and trying to actually interact with a friendly, nodding, completely uncommunicative chap. Other antics: badgering the crowd security to hose him down ("It's like being pissed on by God! AWESOME!"); heckling the guys in the crowd who were trying to climb up the light poles ("Up! Come on! No, what are you doing? GET BACK UP THE POLE, YOU FUCKING PUSSY!"); conducting his band like he was a human theremin.
And oh my god, his voice. The things he can fucking do with that instrument. The growls, the screams, the amazing depth and resonance, and how quickly he leaps between all of these different elements. I thought the recorded stuff was incredible, but he outdoes himself live, and after more than an hour of screeching, hollering and lunacy, he could still hit every note of "Just a Man" with beautiful clarity. OH MY GOD, this man.
They played so much awesome stuff. All the expected things, like Epic and Midlife Crisis and Gentle Art (at which point I felt a bit sorry for the girl beside me, because either she was extremely restrained or just here to support her boyfriend, because she didn't seem that into it, and I went fucking beserk during that song... and during "Cuckoo for Caca"... and...). I wasn't expecting both of "Easy" and "I Started a Joke", but I really should have been, because if Faith No More like anything, it's rubbing your nose in their stupid turned-around jokes. And after everything that I said about the impact of "Ashes to Ashes" on me as a sweet 17yo, I wasn't expecting it to be monstrously goddamn awesome live - it's fallen off my favourites list, but if there'd been a roof at that gig, it would've taken the damn thing off. They closed with "We Care A Lot", as was right and fitting.
I was so happy. SO HAPPY. The crowd was good and the vibe was ecstatic and just... holy shit, so amazing. Everything I'd hoped it would be AND BETTER.