Big Day Out 2010

(photo: Daniel Boudist)

In just a merry quarter of an hour in the queue, being smacked on the face with Australian flag paraphernalia, beer breath on the back of my neck and the distinct waft of other…organic substances, I’m given a true blue, cordial welcoming to the Sydney Big Day Out.

Still yet to pinpoint what it is exactly that attracts so many to this annual festival of beer, bogans and breasts. If you are aching to read about the unskilled offspring of Keith Allen, Matt Bellamy’s vibrato or any of the other international acts on the bill, you should stop reading now.

Sugar Army were in out full force to open the day, gnawing their way through delights from their debut The Parallels Amongst Ourselves, from the intense surge of ‘Tongues In Cheeks’ to the melodic currents of ‘Acute’, to old favourites like ‘And Now You’re Old Enough (I think that you should know)’.  The highlight was the incredibly stirring ‘No Need For Lovers’ (apparently a reference to the teenage murders in Perth in 2006). There was a build up of uneccessary lengthy interludes between songs, which seemed to irritate a few impatient individuals in the crowd, although I was too distracted by the lead’s slight resemblance to Christopher Walken to be irked.

To the unmerciful Sydney sun burning holes in the pale, insipid complexions of interstate travelers like myself; fuck you. Between carefully attempting not to tread on bodies who’d passed out on the footpath from the searing 40C heat and mass droves hitting the food stalls like seagulls attacking a family picnic, moving from one stage to the other was seriously treacherous warfare.

There was a good variety of food stalls this year, the usual – with the addition of ‘I LOVE MUSHROOMS!’ tent, which seemed to attract more confused looks than customers. While meat free options are mandatory for resident vegetarians in the crowd, a soggy Hare Krishna ball on a stick dripping with dust and runny tomato glop is honestly the last thing I want to be putting in my mouth.

Onwards to Tame Impala. Any sort of psychedelic fanfare is enjoyed at it’s peak when your hands turn bright fuschia and your mates start to look like Burt Bacharach. Why organizers choose to whack Tame Impala in the early-mid morning timeslot at every, single bloody festival is beyond me. For a band who’s gathered a solid following, international stints and festival slots of the back of an EP, these guys haven’t done too bad.  Tame breeze through ‘Desire Be, Desire Go’, syncopated grooves of ‘Sundown Syndrome’, Blueboy cover ‘Remember Me’ and manage to fit in two brand new tracks, which will surface when they stop taking spliff breaks and spend more time planning the  release of this hyped up record.

Props to the Syd BDO organizers for providing a location with flushing loos (a luxury denied at the Melbourne event). Signage was very poor this year, as was the genius stall that thought it’d be cool to hand out drink bottles… without water in them. After doing a spill and run of my nuclear coloured snowcone on someones peroxide white locks, I made it in time to watch the end of Catcall’s set. I was surprised to see such a diminutive crowd present, but Catherine Kelleher gave her full and impressed those watching with her glittery stamp of ‘hip pop’.

Oh Mercy drew a large crowd at the Hot Produce stage. Although Priviledged Woes was one of the standout albums of ’09, their live set was a little disappointing and lacked the depth promised on the record. Wagons were in fine form and a definite highlight, with Henry Wagons and his troupe of merry men charming patrons with their wit and stomping swagger. The Middle East’s ‘Blood’ proved a soothing antidote for the multitude of dehydrated patrons in 43C heat, but soon after I decided to call it a day at 5.30pm and passed out somewhere between Strathfield and Central Station.

Big Day Out may well be an annual tradition for some punters, and an exciting venture for high school kiddies who want their first taste of big internationals and triple j anthems, but if you’re serious about seeing something of substance, you’re better off going to something on a smaller scale. But if watery beer, having your view blocked by yobs or being groped in the Kasabian pit by a man in a furry animal costume doesn’t bother you at all, then brace yourself for another round in 2011.

(photo: Daniel Boudist)