Each year the Big Day Out seems less and less like a ‘big day out’ and more like some kind of ordeal to be endured. OK, so I’m whinging – it’s not like it’s the frickin’ Vietnam War or anything, but … well – it can be a bit of a drag what with the heat, the crowds, the unrelenting noise (yes, I know it’s a concert) and just the sheer length of the day.
This year I scored a free ticket. I’d been debating going – I really wanted to see Primal Scream but was incredibly miffed that whoever did the scheduling hadn’t quite clicked that most of the people who wanted to see Screamadelica live probably also wanted to see LCD Soundsystem.
I showed up at about half-past two, just in time to see CSS in the Boiler Room. I’m not a huge fan, but Lovefoxxx is a really compelling frontwoman, and they put on a great live show. Still, I left early to catch some of Grayson Gilmour’s set on the Local Produce stage. I’ve liked his stuff for a while and loved Constellations, his album on Flying Nun from last year, so I was surprised to be one of only a dozen or so people watching. You can lead a horse to water, etc. Next up was Kody & Bic, a strange but compelling duo featuring the queen of NZ MOR (not in a bad way) and an ex-Mint Chick. Unsurprisingly, it sounded pretty much an exact cross between Bic Runga and the Mint Chicks, and a cool cover of Souxsie & The Banshees’ Hong Kong Garden was a pretty good indication of the dark-bubblegum sound they were going for.
After that it was back to Local Produce for Surf City, another poorly attended set by a band who, I’d’ve thought, would have been a bit more popular given the good reviews Kudos got last year. OK, so they sound like The Clean. But in a good way. However, the most amusing thing about was a drunk shirtless guy who was just loving being the (vague) centre of attention. (Note the Teva sandals – cancelling out the otherwise rock ‘n’ roll-ness of the lack of shirt.) He was running ‘round high-five-ing people and posing for photos. This guy was pretty harmless, but is representative of why I often find the Big Day Out such a drag. There’s usually a core group of about ten thousand twenty-somethings (mostly males, but not exclusively) who go every year, no matter what the lineup, get drunk and slightly aggressive. As a non-drinker, and there for the music, they just act as a constant source of irritation.
Next up was Crystal Castles, one of those bands everyone seems to like, but who I’d never actually heard. No loss then. Their set was woeful – they came on late, the mix was terrible, and the whole ordeal sounded like a woman yelping over the top of some loud drums. Thankfully, their set was only twenty minutes long. (My friend Brent described them as “some annoying white people and Yoko Ono”.)
The cancellation of The Black Keys (seriously – exhaustion? Pussies!) meant a decent-sized gap in my festival timetable. A quick dinner (and – wow – the selection of food was so much better this year) and a wander over to see Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros, who were plying an exuberant folk-pop that reminded me of a slightly toned down Polyphonic Spree. It was at this point that the weather took a turn for the worse and started to rain. I’d been debating the shorts-verses-jeans dilemma all week, and had stupidly opted for shorts at the last minute, figuring that it’d probably end up being quite a hot day. Bad call. My friends and I went to the stadium to shelter for a bit, and got to endure a bit of Shihad doing The General Electric. I feel pretty ho-hum about Shihad, and this particular set (must be at least the third BDO set of theirs I’ve seen) did nothing to change my opinion. Still, the crowd seemed to be having a good time pumping their fists in the air.
The Naked and Famous put on a good set, although with only one album under their wings their live shows have been getting a little predictable. Still, a cover of Crazy? Yes! Dumb? No! went down a treat, and Young Blood got the crowd jumping up and down like crazy. By this time I was really wet, and the wind was starting to get quite chilly. The lure of the stadium was strong, but I really wanted to get a good spot for Primal Scream. Once the crowd dispersed I wandered up to the barrier and positioned myself front and centre and watched Sia’s set on the Converse stage from an oblique angle. She seemed kinda wilfully zany – painted black and white and wearing a large cardboard box. Still, she has a great voice, and seemed to engage well with the crowd, even encouraging a few hecklers.
It was, however, Primal Scream that I was there for, and they didn’t disappoint. For someone who must be close to 50, Bobby Gillespie still have the body and moves of a twenty-something. Dressed in a fitted suit with a red silk shirt, he looked every inch the rock star. Backing him up were two guitarists (and, actually, I have no idea who is in the current touring lineup of Primal Scream – I assume one of them was Andrew Innes), ex-Stone Rose Mani, Martin Duffy on drums and a soul diva who sung all of Denise Johnson’s parts. Despite being billed as Screamadelica Live, they actually played around with the running order of the album a little, playing the first half of the album in order, playing both bits of Higher Than the Sun as one long song, and ending the set with Loaded and an epic, drawn out Come Together. Someone kindly edited a few bits of the set together, and it gives you a pretty good idea of just how amazing it was:
Larry David moment: During the set I ended up having fisticuffs with a clearly completely out of it girl who tried to fight her way to the front and started elbowing and shoving me and the person next to me so that she could get in front of us. After about ten minutes of shoving everyone around her really aggressively she loudly exclaimed “is that it?” and wandered away from the stage, to the delight of everyone else around.
By this point I was really wet and really cold. My enthusiasm for staying for a few more hours to watch The Phoenix Foundation and Grinderman was waning, so I decided to beat the crowds and head home early. A hot shower and a comparatively early night were just what I needed.
* An Edwyn Collins lyric, from The Campaign for Real Rock. If you were wondering.
Leave a comment