So you may have heard all the hype. As some are calling it, Australia’s version of Coachella went down in the North Byron Parklands at a small little festival called Splendour in the Grass. All the reviews are out on who delivered the goods, who was sexy (hello Lily Allen) and who got the crowd moving. But these are some of the things that are left unsaid.
The Food. Epic and more options than nightclubs in Kings Cross. Confetti showers. Looking up and feeling like crying with happiness…better still coming out of the crowds looking like choc-tops dunked in sprinkles. The not so glorious side of being in a mosh. Sweating arm pits, struggling to breathe, having a tall friend that delivers countless elbows, accidental rape and becoming too close of a friend to the person in front of you. Rave tipis. Still don’t make sense to the sober mind. The girl who shits in a Dorito packet and pees on sidewalks. No shit but yes.. shit. The strangely compelling site of seeing alcohol get straight through the gate. Sniffer dogs working their magic. The whole town of Nimbin didn’t get in. The line of regret waiting for the drop toilets. Then going inside to find a mountain of human festival waste popping out the top of the seat. The addicted phone users scrambling to the charger tents and portable charging sites. The bomb site that is left behind when people leave the stages or tents. The countless feel good moments making you feel like hugging anybody around you. The face-paint fails. The odd celebrity trying to look normal. The camping groups that came prepared and cooked bacon and eggs every morning…thanks. The kilometre steeplechase from one stage to the next. Having a mate that loves farting in your tent. Eavesdropping on conversations you don’t want to hear near your campsite. Thanks but I don’t care about you missing your cat at three in the morning. Getting checked for alcohol, and them still not finding the obvious flask in your back pocket. The real tans…and the fake ones that looked more patchy than Mt Buller in spring by day 3. The little mall with shipping containers as stalls. Mr Simple and Spell won the visual merch award in my mind. And last but not least the proud site of seeing more festival goers that were into the music, instead of their muscles and which pingers to hit so they could resemble David Guetta’s resent performance at Tomorrowland.
It goes without saying that the big names like Foals and Outkast pulled out their A games, but a few smaller, notable mentions that came to the party were the UK group Jungle, Grouplove, The Kite String Tangle and its hard not to mention the performance that Peking Duk and Rufus put on for the mass of people in the Mix-up tent. They really did finish on a high. On that note here’s triple j’s nice little highlight reel.