Monday, August 9, 2010


It has been over a week since I came back down from heaven onto earth and realised that those 3 days and one eye opening night were over for another year.
I know most people who are reading this will not even want to continue with the rest of the post. Maybe out of boredom, disinterest or even jealousy. But I dont mind if you do exit right now, this post isnt really for you, its for the people you see pictured and the other 29,993 people who can relate to the following.
It is difficult to describe to you the extreme vibe that was descending upon us five girls rammed into a holden astra for 7 hours (that being from Surfers + the line up to get a camping spot) along with around 300 kgs of "luggage" and having Mumford and Sons on repeat as we all gave up on changing CDs just in case there was a massive break in the line and we could zoom to our final destination.
However, the boys were already there with our fucking gimp tent set up in section A, and we were almost at section B....about an hour in the line away. so we four wheel drove in a tiny car a bit like a chihahua with an anger problem, we nipped the heels of the other much bigger cars to get through finally to our little love nest.
That night, we discovered a massive pelvis/spine double guitar sculpture, alongside a huge blow up peace sign, not to mention a lake with a lone boat upon it housing the resident DJ for that time that projected onto a bridge which has already filled up with munters.
we lost our shit at a place called "Spaghetti Junction." delicious, and our last taste of food for the next three days.
As we woke in the morning on FRIDAY, we scrambled out of the tent that was still standing at this point and got a chance to survey our surroundings, noticing a creepy tree and a tent which had a cock flag flying proudly.
As we dealt with the showers and poured our first goon and juice of the day, I asked Leb about why boys draw cocks all the time to which he replied with great seriousness:
"Well hog, you see if you draw a cock that means you are not gay, but whoever you draw the cock on or to, it thereby means they are gay."
And that pretty much sets the scene of Friday morning.
We then headed into the Festie at around 2 in preparation for the very first act of the splendour, FOALS.
To describe this event would have to use the word: INCOHERENT.
we were a sea of fucked up faces all screaming the same language and lyrics and even a screech of "DOGSHIT!" crept into the mix.
following that was Miami Horror which I could not stop repeating in the hours coming up to it "oh man i cant wait for miami horror ay." To where we all met Azza and I got to have the view from his shoulders which was icing on the cake.
We then went and visited the Starfuckers paladium, to which I couldnt help but feel a little proud that they were playing splendour and I had the golden years of my youth in the depths of 77 William St, it was a weird and completely absurd feeling.
Hot Chip blew everyones socks off and the day ended with a mellow Temper Trap but drew everyone in with his breathless energy and a voice that could melt steel.
Saturday morning started a little slower than the previous, we all were a little more misty eyed and grizzly and this was the morning that will be famous for the moo cow alarm and the serenade of coughing that could be heard from every corner of the campsite.
Also the morning famous for: "We're just a couple of guys mucking around at Splendour." -Jared Wharton.
"fuck you're munted." - Jack Lewis.
I had come to terms with the fact that I was going to drink cask wine for breakfast everyday by now, and I dont believe we moved from the chairs we had planted our asses on from 9:30 in the morning til 2pm once again.
Delphic was the start of the trip that was saturday, but due to the exertion of Friday, moss and I watched babes from the sidelines for a long time. Until some drunk babes got in our space and we bailed to Tame Impala.
"wow we even have girls on shoulders!"- probably the most humble sentence I experienced the whole time from any band that graced the ampitheatre.
Following Tame Impala that included a few girls who could have body rolled along train tracks, was the great Australian legend, Paul Kelly.
Needless to say we did our parents proud and lost our shit.
Having altered our moods, the next band that followed provided all of us who viewed them some sort of epiphany. You have bridie and moss shedding a tear, leb bouncing to his own beat and Lewis Azza and myself staring at only the stage then the ciggie in our hands. BAND OF HORSES.
Due to overcrowding, we missed Florence and the Machine which I cant say Im devastated about. I think she is a cock smoker and way too "hip" to even exist. It kills me a little inside to see all the trendoids frothing their fucking faces off and overcrowding the massive amiptheatre for the finale song of the series of SATC. kill me now with a fucking hooded cape on.
Thank god for fate and the overcrowds, we then moved from Band of Horses to headliners, THE STROKES. They were good and slightly blew my theory of them being "THE AMERICAN 'JET'" however it was sprnkled with some dry humour and sarcasm which can only be expected from NYC poor little rich boys.
Saturday was a pleasant surprise, especially with what happened when we got back to the tent...
Leb, Moss and I were sitting outside the tent with Brittany and Meg sleeping soundly inside, as we were enjoying a sigourney weaver...fireworks began popping at the festival, to which Meg suddenly thought she was back in the trenches of Vietnam and scurried in her sleeping bag, RAN to the tent opening, zipped that motherfucker right open and stood at the opening, hand on head looking into the distance.
LEB: "Meg what are you doing?"
MEG: "Huh? Ohh how did i get out here?"
Sunday was a morning of many melting moments. Megs flashback from the night before was still on discussion, the tent had finally given out and shit itself completely making us move into the boys abode, and Bridie was absolutely drunk.
BRIDIE to her brother on the phone: "I AM ABSOLUTELY CHOODLED!"
seeing C list celebs every which way but loose such as Dan Single, Bambi and Michelle Leslie.
Sunday definetly got off to a slow start with the previous nights escapades catching up to us, but only for a moment, next thing we know Bridie and I had OMO fun in a tent, catching back up with the girls for K-OS who did a dynamite cover of Enter Sandman by Metallica and then rightly pissed off to catch the ass end of the VINES.
They smashed their guitars and shit and we just sat and sipped our jager red bulls watching in wonderment and I actually thought about how they would lose their bond on the drum kit.
Following this was PASSION PIT. And I do believe my feet did not leave the ground the entire time. I later described it as
"partying inside of a bubblegum."
which it really was my eyes couldnt see real colours, just every colour imaginable mish mashed into a wonderful rainbow that made the mud up my legs feel like a thousand bubbles. OH!
We had to make a break for it in Passion Pit to see KATE NASH, we ran and skipped and twirled and side stepped all the punters to see her and got greeted with her main prop, a sign that read:
She really flew the feminist flag.
We then strolled past Goldfrapp to catch the end of MUMFORD AND SONS, which was such a masculine vibe tempered with their country and irish twangs and soulful lyrics.
It started a love affair.
Finally we started coming down in the PIXIES. really not a headliner act, if you want my opinion so we bailed and then go lost in serious DOOF DOOF for the next few hours, finally ending in a spliff off at the tent.
the perfect end to a sublime weekend.
It took us a few days to get rid of the imaginary sunglasses off our faces though.

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