Axes In Action: Splendour In The Grass

WHEN: FRIDAY JULY 19TH – SUNDAY 21ST, 2019 WHERE: NORTH BYRON PARKLANDS, BYRON BAY NSW REVIEW: MATT DORIA

There isn’t a cloud in the sky when we roll up to the North Byron Parklands. The flora that dots the walkway in is idyllic, and as we stop to admire the rustic and kitsch artwork they’ve propped up at every turn, we’re enraptured in the laughter of giddy first-timers spouting out their grand ambitions for the weekend, and seasoned veterans recounting tales of their messiest years prior. Everyone here is bounding in glee with eyes wide and smiles wider, and it makes sense: we’re at Splendour In The Grass, Australia’s biggest arts and culture festival and a three-day celebration of music, mates and the complete absence of melancholy.

The festival site is laid out like an paradisal country town: there are nightclubs, corner stores, craft halls, a cinema, brick-and-mortar restaurants and boutique fashion markets (to round off just a bit). There’s even a coin-op laundromat – no, wait, that’s just a nightclub where the ‘secret entry’ is through a hollowed washer. Our bad.

DAY ONE

There’s plenty to see, do and be amazed by at Splendour, but of course, the heart of it all lies in its unfathomably massive programme of live music. Hailing from the oft-ignored punk scene of Hobart,

A. Swayze And The Ghosts kick things off with a scorching dose of rough and rugged riffs. Their shamelessly scuzzy, take-no-shit pub-punk has unsuspecting onlookers terrified, but those in the know foaming at the mouth with glee as they wreak havoc on the grassy plains surrounding the mainstage.

After a quick hop back in time with the retro synthwave luminaries in The Midnight, the push-pits continue at the hands of UK drunk-punk warriors

Slaves. It’s odd to see them here as a festival exclusive with their gruff and gaudy two-piece terror custom fit for literally any other atmosphere, but hey, we’re not complaining: the Kent-native duo are always a treat for the eyes and ears, taking very little seriously as they wreak havoc on their instruments. “F*** the hi-hat” indeed, lads. Meanwhile in the GW McLennon tent, trailblazing indie-pop Brisbanite

Hatchie doles us some pure euphoria with her catchy and cool – and distinctly nostalgic – jams.

If we were shocked to see Slaves on the Splendour mainstage, we’re downright in disbelief that

Wolfmother are here when the mid-afternoon crashes down on us. Though well past their prime, the “Joker And The Thief” legends are an instant hit with a crowd of those who mostly grew up when the Sydneysiders dominated the charts. And, if we do say so ourselves, they’re still a bastion of punchy Oz-rock poignancy: Andrew Stockdale rips through every solo like it could be his last, not a string out of place as he shows us just what made the band so great to begin with.

Repping her new album Solutions, Illinois genre-bender K Flay delivers an unexpectedly, yet very-much-welcomely guitar-heavy set of mind-melting pop bangers. She rules the stage like it was built just for her, a ruthless, riveting ferocity wafting through the Mix Up tent as she pours her heart and soul into the mic.

Also revelling in a shimmery mishmash of pop and rock flavours (though on the furthest opposite end of the spectrum), Cali kids FIDLAR have a packed crowd going all-out apeshit for their hourlong stint on the mainstage. They may not be the drug-addled punks they were in the early days, but their set is as loose, livid and loveably f***ing wild as you could dream

Foals are much more lowkey in comparison, but what the Oxford quartet lack in lack in energy, they make up for with a transcendental spread of sticky-sweet guitars and soul-thumping dance beats. Ditto for the first headliners of the weekend, Tame

Impala. The weird and wonderful psych-rockers owe a debt to Splendour in aiding with their rise to stardom, and finally making it to show-closer status, they prove instantly why that rise began in the first place. Their doughy, fuzz-heavy avalanche of elation makes for a perfect end to a hectic first day.

DAY TWO

This is the big day for those amongst us desperate for distortion. We kick off with a double dose of new-gen Aussie gold, goal-smashing alt-rockers Moaning Lisa and pub-ruling pop-punks

Dear Seattle both delivering tight, towering sets of soul-shaking jams sure to wake up any straggling sleepyheads. The former even flick a buoyant new song at us, hinting at a huge year of tunes and touring ahead in 2020.

Wielding just the right balance of twang and grit, North Carolinian fuzz-pop powerhouse The

Nude Party shine with their crisp, carefree rock ’n’ roll ebullience. The ‘60s-channelling numbers are authentically punchy, and by the time they kick into song #2, their tent is swarming with punters keen to twist and shout their hangovers away.

Over on the mainstage, Trophy Eyes have a crowd that stretches as far back as the eye can see gripped firmly in their grubby, beer-soaked palms. Their set is an early highlight of the weekend, and a career-defining moment of raw talent for the little Novocastrian hardcore kids that could. From the harsh and hectic “Nose Bleed” to the bright and booming “Friday Forever”, every cut on the setlist is battered out with truly stunning tact. After a well-earned ice cream break, the good vibes continue to flow with the pseudo-skate-punk stylings of Ruby Fields, who takes full advantage of her punter-stuffed tent by giving her

PermanentHermit cuts a theatrical twist. Riding high on the heels of his swoon-inducing debut album, Dean Lewis cruises through his hourlong showcase with a bevy of hits in hand. Tears are shed, fists are pumped and many a smile is cracked as Lewis – decked out with a show-stopping full band, but himself the standout with an acoustic – soaks in the liveliness; it’s hard not to walk from his

set feeling high on life and ready to take on the world. Keen to capitalise on our optimism are Wolf

Alice who, with their golden-hour rollercoaster ride of grungy hooks and luminescent harmonies, help the sun set with a jubilant atmosphere. The London lovelies channel early-era Smashing Pumpkins with their craggy, youthful indie-rock sound – they could easily have been plucked from the annals of the early ‘90s, but they’re the exact band we needed to see now, today, in July 2019. Their fellow brits in

Friendly Fires keep the lively attitude afloat, sharing sneak peaks of their forthcoming Inflorescent LP. And with the album marking their first in over eight years, the hype buzzing through their tent was nothing short of eruptive.

Today’s last set of indie-rockers from the land of tea and crumpets comes courtesy of Catfish And The

Bottlemen. Blending heartfelt poetry with raucous and ripping guitars, the four-piece have a forcible dynamic unlike any other act on the bill. Choice cuts from this year’s TheBalance stand out in the set, with a field-wide singalong making their playthrough of “2all” a truly unforgettable moment. Speaking of sets we won’t soon forget,

Courtney Barnett’s late-night soirée is all kinds of extraordinary. The typically mellowed Melbournite is peculiarly energetic tonight, bounding around the stage as she tears into her fretboard like it just insulted her mother. She and the CB3 ebb and flow between celestial slow-burners like “Small Poppies” and rollicking thumpers like “City Looks Pretty”, and although they make the most of their hour onstage, it feels like they jam for no more than 20 minutes. Honestly, we’d be sorted just watching that set another three times.

Although there’s an obvious theme that this review aims to spotlight all the guitar-centric sets we’re catching at Splendour, a special mention has to be shared for night two’s closer, Childish Gambino. Playing one of his last ever sets on Australian soil, the generation-defining multi-hyphenate set a new precedent for what is expected of a festival headliner. There’s something downright stunning about watching a solid 50,000 munted twenty-somethings attempt the dance from “This Is America” in unison. Goddamn.

DAY THREE

We’ve gotta level with you, guys: by this point in the weekend, we’re f***ing spent. A hot Belgian waffle and ice-cold Boost Juice hit the spot harder than stray dogs would hit a plate of spaghetti – and as the final afternoon of Splendour ’19 creeps in, we become entranced by the gooey, lackadaisical radiance of Fremantle firestarters Spacey Jane. Their jammy, fuzzed-out riffs work as a much-needed jab of aural adrenaline, hyping us up for a big and bouncy set from the pop-rock party kings in Slowly Slowly.

If we think we’ve seen it all by now, Phony Ppl are here to show us what’s what. The Brooklyn boys are groovy as all sweet get-out, reminding us just how good of a hangover cure dancing can be with their fusion of slick and soulful hip-hop vibes with fun and funky guitars. They’re a great warm-up for Kiwi pop-punks The Beths, who kick straight into a wall-to-wall set of fast and fiery anthems from their sure-to-be sleeper hit LP, FutureMeHatesMe. Their energy is infection, the band having just as good a time as us (see: hella) as they pummel through the set.

Somewhere between Bleachers, Paramore and Vampire Weekend, the synthpop stalwarts in Charly

Bliss are one of the most sonically – and visually – exciting acts of the weekend. Their music is all about letting go of what holds you back in life and seizing the moment – and with a set crammed with as much glitter and gleam as theirs, it’s impossible not to do just that as Charly Bliss thrash around on their kit. We follow their set with more synth-slathered fun in a 45-minute party with Last Dinosaurs, their silvery keys and jangly guitars a total treat for the ears.

Further proving their strengths as one of Australia’s strongest indie-rock groups, The Rubens treat a jam-packed mainstage crowd to some of the sharpest and most searing jams of the weekend. And though cuts from last year’s LoLaRu LP are undeniably tight, it’s their 2015 breakout number “Hoops” that gathers the biggest wallop of hollers. With bold and belting guitars at the forefront of their mix, The

Teskey Brothers brought an astounding onslaught of bone-tingling blues and soul to the GW McLennon tent.

Blistered and beat, we call it a day here, limping back to our cars with spirits as high as our energy is low… That is, of course, after we drop by the backstage burger bar for a gloriously greasy, destructively delicious Mary’s burger. Sometimes the

real headliners aren’t even on the poster.

THE MORNING AFTER

If there’s one thing we learned from three days of moshing up a storm, hula-hooping with hippies and sinking overpriced beers, it’s that Australian festival culture is more alive than it’s ever been. There were a few years where it looked like we were over the schtick, but if the hordes of punters having the times of their lives gave us any indication from this weekend, we’ve certainly regained our groove? And what’s driving the resurgence in music festival fandom? Guitars. Okay, so we’re a little biased in saying that –

obviously. But every time a big, distortion-riddled rock band took to the stage at this year’s Splendour, crowds were both enormous and enormously dedicated. It was those that reigned with instruments in hand which garnered the loudest cheers and juiciest pits – and rightfully so! Even as the lineups swell in diversity and it caters for more corners of the cultural spectrum, Splendour In The Grass is a rock festival at heart, and we’re certain it’ll thrive as such for years to come.

For right now, though, we’re hyping up for the 2019 edition of Splendour’s nationwide spin-off festival, Falls. Catch you in the pit, right?!£