Applecore Festival
Someone's backyard, Thornbury VIC
Saturday 21st February 2009

In a large, sloping backyard in Thornbury, Melbourne last Saturday, about 300 or so city dwellers gathered to lie on blankets, watch bands, sink booze and layabout in the sun. This Applecore event has become an annual one, started years ago in various backyards throughout the city's northern suburbs. Invite is by word of mouth, emails or message boards, ensuring a relaxed, friendly atmosphere. Amenities/bushes are close at hand. There's fastidious attention to sound quality and lights. Spod's here. This is how it should be.

Despite the days entertainment starting at 12.30pm, we didn't make it 'til about 3pm. That's the way you roll with these kinds of things I guess. Meaning we missed a fresh from ATP Primitive Calculators, plus locals Hand Hell, Laura Jean and most of Deadbeat Club. All in favour of trying to track down some decent booze in cans, a rug, some chairs and an esky. Apologies to the bands unseen but I'm pretty sure there's no way they were as comfortable to lie on than our faux mink rug. Can't be certain.

With a spot behind a tree and nestled into the dry, straw-like grass, Graveyard Train was our settling music. Consisting of a bunch of guys harmonising over banjo's, washboard and harmonica, their tongue-in-cheek take on "horror country" was damn pleasant. And fun. Possessed of a sea shanty meets Sergio Leone type vibe, the band seem positively joyous here singing songs about betrayal and death. Surrounded by, y'know, people lying in the sun, drinking and talking.

Luluc also posses a similarly skeletal acoustic sound, if perhaps more concerned with matters of the heart rather than holding one aloft above your enemy's head. Their touring run of late through some of the bigger halls in Australia with Jose Gonzalez suggest the back landing of a porch might be a bit of a step down from recent heights. But the trio today don't seem phased. Actually it's a perfect setting for the band, Zoe Randall and Steve Hassett's easy harmonies lilting over Gillian Welch-esque, weaving guitar lines. It's an excellent soundtrack for kicking back and taking in the tree tops. Or the curious neighbours watching from the apartment block next door.

Despite them being right there in front of me I miss most of Sleepy Township thanks to the barbecue. An orderly queue forms, shit is talked, friends are run into and details get cast aside. Which is the excellent thing about these shows. The event is more important than any one ingredient. As such there's no egos, no grandstanding, and as long as the police don't show up...no problems. Recent additions to the Golden Plains lineup, Deaf Wish cock the volume up a notch with their feedback ridden, grunge tinged sludge rock, before Aleks and the Ramps assemble with their spaz deconstruction of folk. Like the Tucker Bs some people seem to think the Ramps are a schtick to accept or refuse. Sure their antics can blur the fact, but their songs are complex, finely tuned, crafted narratives that deserve persistence.

By now dusk is settling and the barbecue is filling in the gaps where previously beer crept. Actor/Model seem a little more subdued tonight than the last few times I've seen them. Maybe it's that frontman Ricky has been manning the door for most of the day, but it also seems like they're sculpting their songs a little more, rather than relying on volume and stage antics. For every white noise rock line in their set there's a sweet, melody driven pop song to counterpoint. With a newish drummer skillfully pinning the whole thing down, it's a perfect balance. Finally, with more than a few attendees confused and bleary eyed - but still strong of voice - Spod takes to the stage. The Sydney based MC/hype man/lothario/consumate party starter is announcing that he's moving to Melbourne in a few months, to cheers from the crowd. I've never seen a bad Spod show. There are times when the crowd's not into it but there are never times when Spod's not into it. Which all but guarantees, if not a party, then the invitation to have one. By the end of his set he's being held on the crowd's shoulders.  Suitably. Backyard festival win.