Laneway Festival
Sydney College Of The Arts, Rozelle
Sunday 6th February 2011
by Jonno Seidler and Marcus T
MT: The Laneway Festival is proving a good luck charm for the cities it's visiting in 2011. On Friday the festival debuted in a dry, sun-drenched Brisbane, a city still reeling from a spate of rain-induced floods and in close proximity to the effects of Cyclone Yasi. Yesterday it landed in Melbourne just hours after the long tail of Yasi swung down through the state, bringing record rainfalls and floods to the inner CBD. Unbelievably, despite predictions of a washout and under low grey skies, the rain held off in Melbourne until the train home. And then today in Sydney, the Lanweay Festival kicks off as the state's inhabitants come to after the hottest night on record, EVER. Seven days in a row of 35+ degree temperatures and stifling humidity, the festival again dodges a bullet by occurring on the day a much needed change rolls in, dropping the temperature by a good 15 degrees by late afternoon. If there is a god, this week he is surely a boat-shoe wearing, paisley shirted hipster on auxiliary floor tom.
JS: It’s fitting that the Sydney College Of The Arts used to be a mental hospital, because there’s some pretty insane shit going down at Laneway in 2011. Whether that’s on stage (hello, Les Savy Fav) or in the sky (turns out God also hates NSW), everyone’s getting into the spirit by socially smoking and drinking Bulmers while we get slammed by the best music this side of a Pitchfork Festival. Or just a Pitchfork Festival.
MT: Upon arrival, Laneway organisers have - like in Melbourne - learned the hard lessons from last year's festival ground re-location. Firstly, there's an abundance of new food stalls, all of which are now located outside the main performance area - last year their close proximity to the stage area created hellish bottlenecks. This year you can pretty much walk wherever you'd like, whenever you'd like. Alongside this new space is a grassy outdoor dining ridge, with picturesque views. There's nothing like being able to get away from a music festival for a moment, and this chill-out area proves a winner. (Also, the authentic Italian wraps stand is gangbusters.) Secondly, a large communal, transient toilet block has been built within pissing distance of the food stalls. Which, at least in the men's area, means no waiting whatsoever. Bravo.
JS: Things get off to a cracking start with recent Modular signing WIM, whose layered goodness beams out of the Carpark stage (which is actually more of a "square"), while most of the transplanted Surry Hills residents sweat it out. The first slot of the day is not a particularly good one to have, so it’s heartening to see that the local talent can still pull a sizable crowd. Most of whom are transfixed by singer Martin Solomon, whose Jesus-like appearance is augmented by an Andrew-W.K-esque all-white ensemble. It’s clear WIM are a good fit here, because Local Natives who take to the stage a few hours later, (and like a great many on today's bill actually), work on pretty much the same aesthetic; four part harmonies, singing keyboard players who beat floor toms and interesting chord changes. The difference is that Local Natives have a swelling fanbase and a cracking debut album out, but more on that later.
MT: After being unceremoniously bumped in Melbourne yesterday due to the previous nights water damage, Rat vs Possum are making amends in the inner sanctum, despite facing a death ray sun. The five-piece fill out the festival space nicely with their four-part singing arrangements and percussion that stands out as being necessary rather than just for current meme kicks. Indie sad-sacks (and I uses this term fondly) the Antlers are a disappointment today. They're an odd festival fit, to be sure - their album of last year Hospice is an intensely personal, layered achievement of welling emotions, one that couldn't ever be totally recreated live. But there's something a little off-putting with the band today, though maybe it's just the soupy. heat of the midday sun. Still, despite singer Peter Silberman's fantastic vocals and keyboardist Darby Cicci's atmospheric waves of noise, there's something grating about Michael Lerner's approach to drums - all beefy rock and meat and potatoes roll. Simply, it scans as...insensitive. Closer 'Two' is the closest thing they've got to a (justified) hit, but it never lifts off as one would hope. Catharsis can't be flicked at the switch it seems.
JS: The Holidays, now with added African backing vocalist and conga player, seek to capitalise on their recent AMP win but it just isn’t going as well for them as they’d like on the Car Park stage. Some of the vocals are flat, the mixing is sub-par and seeing as their best tunes are, you know, super-chill, the audience have a tough time deciding whether they want to dance or lie down somewhere for a nap. There’s no such problems with Brisbane’s Violent Soho over at the Clock Tower, who tear their way through most of the ‘90s and completely surprise everyone by being really, really entertaining. Screaming, shredding and encouraging the crowd to throw shit at them (which they do, in spades), these guys might not be the most sophisticated songwriters out there, but they certainly are old enough to remember what festivals are meant to be about; getting loose. There are visible expressions of shock from the Ellery sunglasses-clad girls who thought this was a two-piece from Wisconsin. Just watching them trying to rock out is worth the price of a ticket alone.