Thank you to Wadawurrung Elders for their powerful Welcome To Country and smoking ceremony, to the Nolan family, and of course Aunty Meredith for having me for this wild and special one-of-a-kind party.
MMF’19 was my eleventh one, and my twentieth time in the Meredith Supernatural Amphitheatre. I also haven’t been in two years and was very excited to be heading back to the ‘sup despite having completely torn my ACL (knee) a few weeks ago.
Although the skies were grey and Shania Twain’s Man I Feel Like a Woman! was the housekeeping song (I feel so womanly when I clean, don’t you?) – Meredith this year was a very sunny time. If you sold your ticket for an insanely cheap price, be warned, these photos may sting.
Wonderwall was pretty fun, not even ironically, and it was even more fun to watch Liam Gallagher hate the fact that this was the best time everyone had during his set. DJ Koze played Pick Up at the end of his insanely great set, bringing the Amphitheatre down – shout out to the woman who brought an Operator (He Doesn’t Call Me) phone prop. Jesswar was a boss, Julia Jacklin tugged on those heart strings and Logic1000 was a good dance time. Other highlights include Scott & Charlene’s Wedding, River Yarra, Christine Anu and someone bringing a cauliflower thing-on-a-stick.
My limited movement this year meant no treks up the hill for sunset or any campsite adventures, though I really hope you still enjoy this photo review as much as I did my twentieth time in the ‘sup. xox
Seven years ago WTH photographers ventured into the Meredith Supernatural Amphitheatre and began taking photos of What Goes On. By Golden Plains Eight there was almost a complete shift from live music photography to atmos photography, capturing what truly makes GP extra special ~*YOU*~. By Golden Plains Ten our photo pit pass was no more – aside from a few photos taken from the front row, the punters became the stars of our photographic reviews of the festival. I like to think that we started this trend.
We’ve been sending Tessa Mansfield-Hung along to the ‘sup since Golden Plains Twelve and needless to say she has been killin’ it. Her photographic review of Golden Plains Thirteen is perhaps the best yet. These photos speak many words (mainly, FOMO) though here are a few from the gal who went along to capture all that was;
“Oi! Raise your sour beers and cheers to the weekend that you swore you would never forget but maybe have a little already. Do not fear, some pics for the jog of the mems is here.
Four Tet sparked joy. Someone trashed the campsite. There wasn’t a storm, just storm like qualities. I saw a T-Rex and Kyle found 50 bucks.
Bless up and big love to our heroes Millú & Pjenné for closing the weekend of our dreams.
We sent along Tessa Mansfield-Hung to MMF18 to capture our annual photographic review of What Goes On at the Meredith Supernatural Amphitheatre. It is bloody fab as always, so without further ado, here it is:
“Oh yeah hey dog hey what’s up.
Whothehell let me pay tribute to Aunty Meredith once again for MMF18′. I was there with all of my people and my Pentax.
Let me sooth your post Meredith sorrows with some photographic kick ons.
Don’t cry because it’s over, smile because it happened (except if you didn’t attend, then wow, I am so sorry you missed out. Fucking devo.)” -Tessa
I never meant to make your daughter cry. I feel like a natural woman. Baby blue. How long, till I see your face?
Attempting to write a few words about a festival you know and love—but this year didn’t attend—is damn right awful. If you didn’t get along to the 12th Golden Plains Music Festival held at the Meredith Supernatural Amphitheatre, I suggest closing your browser right now, as these photos are about to pour a lot of salt into your fomo wound. We sent Tessa Mansfield-Hung along with her camera and great eye for capturing the good times in the ridic balmy sunshine. Here is our annual GP photo recap and it is better than ever, so I’ll let Tessa’s photos do the talking:
G’day! Here at whothehell we know that the days following Meredith can be tough. Chin up, take the rough with the smooth, never fear—you’ll feel human again before you know it. Though for now, to make you feel a bit better about the whole festival-hangover-situation, we bring you some snaps from the weekend that was (if these cannot cheer you up… well you are on your own).
Golden Plains XI marked my 10th time at the festival (I missed one about 4 years ago when I was doing that thing where Melbournians go live in Berlin). In 2007, when I was 16, my best mate told me about this cool ‘new’ festival her older brother knew about and convinced me to go with her. It probably cost $200 and The Presets were playing so it didn’t take much persuasion. We bought a slab of passionfruit UDLs, traded them off with a girl we knew from a nearby school for some No-Doz, and I never looked back.
Be it noted that I don’t condone underage drinking and neither does Golden Plains. There is a strict “No Dickheads” policy in force at the Meredith Supernatural Amphitheatre, which helps make this festival so special. GP XI was particularly dickhead free. Thanks Aunty (and maybe Pitch).
While the place is always a haven, some things have changed over 10 years. My group of friends (which has solidified and grown substantially thanks to this festival) has moved from screaming at bands on the barrier, all the way back to the fourth lantern on the left. The fourth one – that’s a new level of relaxed. Soon we’ll be sitting on the hill. In fact, I did watch Neil Finn from the hill. The amphitheatre was so beautiful from back there, with the sound of everyone singing along, I actually welled up. Friends I’ve danced with in the crowd are now up on stage. These days I like Bloody Marys, Sunset Strip has become like Bourke Street Mall on the weekend Zara opened, and there are cold showers where you never have to line up (highly recommended).
Of course, some things never change: the same friend from 2007 handed me a passionfruit UDL at about 3 a.m. on Monday, and in that moment it was the best thing I had ever tasted. There’s always a band I’ve never heard of that turns out to be a festival highlight (thanks Chain & The Gang). There’s always a great moment when you’re full of love, hugging everyone in your vicinity (thanks Total Giovanni). Pink Flamingos are consistently delicious and I have been camping in pretty much the same place since Golden Plains I.
It might only be a few days, but over a decade those few days every year have had a substantial impact on my life. Thanks to this place for the friendships I still have today and for moments that are unforgettable for many reasons. I would like to thank the Nolan family for making their home my own. RIP Jack Nolan.
Last month two of Brisbane’s best bands recently stretched their legs and bank accounts on a national tour – taking in Sydney, Melbourne and Hobart (The Entire Nation) and playing with local top dogs like Primo, Parsnip, Treehouse, Sex Tourists, LA Suffocated and Dolphin.
Both bands are DIY as hell – from Sydney 2000‘s bananas stage attire to Bent‘s playful, haphazard film clips to the fact that Steve Rose from Sydney 2000 drove from city to city the entire way cuz none of the others have licenses. Glen Schenau from Bent (also Per Purpose, Deck in the Pit, Kitchens Floor) takes photos of gigs around town on disposable, capturing and documenting blink-and-you’ll-miss-it moments of scrappy, sweaty beauty.
We asked Glen for some photos of the tour – which was also a kind of farewell for Heidi Cutlack, who plays bass and sings in Bent and drums in Sydney 2000, and has since moved to Japan.
(Couple of iPhone ones in here too, don’t comment)
Thanks Glen, and thanks Heidi for making your wild, cool, and uniquely lovely music in Brisbane for so long.
Sydney 2000 have tape out and floating around that should be online sometime in the future. Until then, see if you can hunt it down, nestled in the fur of the meanest cat on your street, sown into the pocket of the camo shorts you haven’t worn since 2009.