For those that saw my Facebook status over the weekend and were assuming I was on a massive binge of sexual infedelity this weekend, nothing could have been further from the truth, except assuming I had converted to Mormonism and was looking taking applicants via interview process for the remaining 3 wife slots one gets.

I had in actual fact gone to Triple J’s One Night Stand… A music festival promoting A-list local acts, paid for with tax money. Considering that I pay my $0.08 per day for the ABC’s funds, and that it was only a 3 hour drive away, I decided I should go. Also, I liked a couple of the tracks some of the bands were going to be playing.

My gawthic sarcasm aside, it was actually an amazingly enjoyable evening, even while it was pissing down with rain, with the slight exception of my tinnitus going apeshit and forcing me to miss to sit at the very back of the grounds to prevent an intense migraine during the last act.

We were still in the queue that snaked around the entire football grounds as Children Collide were playing… Possibly a good thing. We actually got through the security gate just in time to catch the beginning of Miami Horror. A dancy little set, and still bright enough to take photos, if it hadn’t started to piss down with rain

Fleeing to the safety and cover of the side booths, as approximately 3,000 other people were attempting to do, we made a dash for the vegan burger stand, under the assumption that would be the least crowded, and potentially provide something nutritious and filling. Surprisingly, it was tasty at that even if the majority of the contents that spilled out at the first bite, and down the front of my pants, was satay sauce that had the right colour and consistency to make it look like I’d drunkenly shat myself… down the front… somehow…

You get creative when you’re drunk or high and at a music festival, right?

When the aptly named Miami Horror finally did get off, it was time for The Butterfly Effect. This is the bit where I get my jollies off, because as it stands, I like The Butterfly Effect. You should to. Imago was a great album in so far as “hardcore” music goes. What really did it for me was when they started to play a cover of Portishead’s Glorybox. I really hope someone had the foresight to bootleg the concert because that was fucking awesome.

Next up: Eskimo Joe
I’ve got to say, I was actually really unimpressed by this set. It may have been cold and pissing with rain, but the new album just does not rock my socks, jocks or cock.
It’s frustrating, because Inshalla has a great title track, but the rest is such a mismatched grab bag… it sounds B-sideish. Hell, there was something in there that made me think that Cyndi Lauper was writing their latest songs. If you listen to the album, you’ll see what I mean.

The night ended on Hilltop Hoods. I’m not a big fan of rap music in general, but these guys just have fun with it, which is what this sort of thing should be about in the first place, and they manage to do it without pandering to American stereotypes of what rappers should be or go on about… However, as I mentioned, splitting headache, tinnitus, had to sit this one out.
For an hour I’m sitting under cover, listening to this bizarre doppler effect, having a conversation with someone I’ve never met before and will never see again while we assiduously try to avoid looking at the highschool kids attempting to have sex (he couldn’t get it up because it was too cold, apparently) about 5 meters away in the “most private place [they] could find”.

Honestly, kids, that’s what the moshpit is for! No one’s going to notice you fucking in it.

Finally over, there’s nothing quite like the crush and buzz of about 8,000 people trying to get out of an 8 meter gap in the fence that serves as the exit whilst about 400 people mill around directly in front of it trying to spot their friends, and then you all proceed to walk to a sporting oval where you were meant to park your cars and hope to got that it hasn’t turned to mud and bogged you in.
Thankfully, it hadn’t, we escaped.

Don’t feel bad if you totally missed it. Unless you’re a fan of the bands playing you didn’t really miss too much. As music festivals go, it was missing out on all the side stuff because, being government funded, no commercial activity other than band merchandise and food provision was allowed. You weren’t even allowed to bring in alcohol, drugs, or incindiary devices! Precisely how you can have a great night without committing an drunken act of arson whilst high on PCP is beyond me sometimes.

Photos to come.

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