Gig Watch: Laneway Festival 2008

By Lisa Dib

Is Laneway Fest a hideout for tools?

'Year Nine Lisa' would’ve loved Laneway Festival; the idea of individualism and eccentricity (without actually adhering to such notions), flowing booze and general debauchery. Bearing in mind, though, 'Year Nine Lisa' was a complete tool.

Maybe I’m just not a festival person? Call me crazy, but I can’t see for the life of me why someone - anyone- would spend their hard-earned dosh (unless it isn’t theirs, nor hard-earned, who knows with kids these days?) on a festival ticket.

The point of a MUSIC festival being the MUSIC, the sheer pastiche of artistry on show for the day, then drink and lout the beautiful Melbourne daytime away. Why are you bothering? Go to the pub, you tosser!

Anyway, I stroll down Lonsdale Street and feel about 90 years old. Trendy kids swarm about in vintage garb and obscure novelty tees, already slurping Jager and Red Bull at noon.

The Basics (oh, The Basics, they soothe me) - honestly, how many other bands could I have seen twice in one week and still beg for more? Although the band’s newer vein of slower balladry is a superfluous deviation from their pop-tastic brilliance, how can one not enjoy them? One must, and one does…. with gusto.

Clambering to Lounge, I notice more than a few self- shot display photos being taken for whatever form of self-aggrandizing media is king at the minute. Will this set the tone for the day? I want to say no…

The curious Batrider slathered Lounge in their quirky brilliance; having only known the band by name, I was pleased to have found a new like-like interest. Although the vox could’ve been polished up somewhat, but, "pobody’s nerfect", as they say?

The bellyaching of Okkervil River sailed high over Lonsdale Street, so I trundled over to see just what the fuss was about. The much-hyped Okkervil did not even graze my expectations; I shan’t launch into a two-page tirade on the 'State of Music Today', but sufficed to say, Okkervil will be standing at the hell-mouth of the Rockpocalypse.

Speaking of bands lacking testicular fortitude, I am joyous to declare The Vasco Era have no such problem. The tiny Caledonian Lane was filled with loud, brash guitars and frontman Sid’s potent roar. Their onstage demeanor was that of hyenas being fed at the Zoo, or living inside the engine of a Chevrolet with the muffler hanging off. Dirty, gritty, screaming rock and roll was the sustenance I had needed to persist in my day.

After waiting what seemed like an eternity, Little Red finally took to the diminutive Cal Lane stage. The LR lads are a juggernaut; their catchy doo-wop rock is oh-so-irresistible, and is splendidly on-par with their similarly suited counterparts in The Basics. For those as-yet uninitiated, Little Red are a powerhouse of R’n’B, doo-wop beats and sumptuous harmonies, each member bringing their own distinctive finesse to the equation; drummer Taka is a pint-sized Ringo, merrily bashing on his drums and bopping along to the beat like the rest of us. And although each member has a go on the mic, one can’t go past Dom’s commanding presence as frontman; his smooth panache certainly got the young lasses in the crowd 'tee-hee-ing' and 'ooh-ahh-ing'.

Battling past Clap Your Hands Say Yeah and the wave of nauseous “indie-rock” permeating from their amps, I hurried to Lounge to assuage my illness; Darren Hanlon. Surprised and pleased at the amount of breathing space in Lounge at 6pm, I was able to enjoy Hanlon’s honeyed vox and charming ditties. See him if you can. Sigh, back to the real world.

Feist; the real surprise of the day. Knowing nothing of the wee Canadian, I stood my ground for the entirety of her set. Not simply because I wanted to reserve my place as close to the stage as possible for the following act (the loverly Gotye) but because the electric frontwoman is just so damn…cool!

Not “cool” in the way that most of the kids appeared that day, but cool in the sense that this was a chick you could, and would, given the chance, chat to. Her down to earth humour and alt-country-ish tracks alleviated the strain of the sardine-like day I had been living. If I had gotten nothing else from my Laneway experience, it was a newfound love for Miss Feist.

Feeling slightly disappointed that Damn Arms had been scheduled at the same time as Gotye, I stood waiting amongst crushed cans, cups and cigarettes, an eager beaver if you ever saw one. Finally, Wally De Backer took to the stage. I need not tell you it was the highlight of the day, Wally (aka Gotye) is the sunshine. His effervescence melted us all; from the playful anthem Learnalilgivinanlovin to Hearts A Mess, which encouraged an out-of-tune singalong from the contented crowd. We just can’t hit those notes like you, Wally. After a painfully short set, he disembarked the stage, but you certainly don’t forget a Gotye show in a hurry. By the by, Gotye sir, you forgot my favourite song; I was gutted not to have been able to weep silently to Out Here In The Cold like a prom queen. Sigh, pobody’s nerfect....

Rushing home before I died of hunger/fatigue/someone crushing me while drunk on smuggled-in Jager, I couldn’t help consider what the Music Festival on the whole meant to the masses; was it an excuse to get drunk and loiter about? Just how many mad-crazy-music-fans had really been at Laneway this year? Was it sadly diminishing?

Questions, questions, no answers; time for some late-night Maccas and sleep. 

Little Red & The Vasco Era proved that you don't need to be a trendy scenster to put on a good show, with both bands highlights of the day

Overall: 70%