YOURS & OWLS FESTIVAL

WHEN: SATURDAY OCTOBER 5TH – SUNDAY 6TH, 2019 WHERE: STUART PARK, WOLLONGONG NSW REVIEW: MATT DORIA • PHOTOS: PETER ZALUZNY

Adoringly dubbed by locals simply as “the fezzie”, Yours & Owls has fast grown into a cornerstone of Wollongong’s ever-exploding live music culture. Stormy weather means the beachside grounds are muddy and humid across the two-day stint, but that doesn’t faze any of the wide-smiled devotees that flood the fields – the good vibes are abundant, as seagulls hover above us and a Mother Energy van doles some much appreciated free caffeine to early risers.

It stands to reason that the 2019 edition of the Gong’s favourite festival would peak early with a landmark set from one of the city’s best; scuzz-punk scorchers Totally Unicorn erupt onstage with the fury of rioting prisoners, and across their 30 short minutes of amp-bursting anarchy, wreak more havoc than most bands could dream to in two hours. First worth noting is that they’ve set up their very own tiki bar onstage, complete with a bartender spinning out colourful cocktails to side-stage bystanders and lucky punters up front.

Aaron Streatfeild is a goddamn maniac with his weathered Tele at play, ripping out an equally sweet and sour onslaught of shred as he whips around the stage. But all eyes are on frontman Drew Gardner, naturally: as he belts pure, unadulterated fire into his mic, the underwear-clad screwball throws himself directly into the action, spending much of the set getting knocked around in his own delightfully deranged, beautifully barbaric mosh pits. It’s a crazy, messy, almost obscene show of passion and power. And we wouldn’t have it any other way. Shoutout to AG contributor David James Young on his scene-stealing vocal cameo, too.

On the other side of the back-to-back stage setup, Angie McMahon establishes an atmosphere that could not be further in the opposite direction from Totally Unicorn’s. The heart-melting Melbournite takes us on a cool and cruisy journey through the emotional peaks and valleys of her debut album, Salt, rocking a bold, blood-red hollowbody Harmony that juts against her honey-sweetened crooning with just the right balance of buoyancy and bite. A slow-burning set, it feels like McMahon’s onstage for no more than ten minutes. We could easily stick around for at least another hour or three.

If we thought her set was emotional, however, we have another thing waiting for us when Ceres take to the stage. Repping cuts from their recent LP WeAreATeam, the Melbourne fivesome lean on their tantalising alloy of emo and Australiana to conjure up some of the biggest singalongs we ever see, frontman Tom Lanyon lapping up the love as his throaty hooks and crusty Tele juts cut deep into a swarm of black-shirt tragics belting it all back at him. Their setlist leaves a bit to be desired, but if nothing more, Ceres’ festival showcase serves as a perfect tease for their denser, more deep-diving headliners.

Her shimmery, guitar-slicked synthpop bounding around the grounds like lingering smoke, Hatchie delivers us some perfect mid-arvo respite. It’s a lowkey set from the Brisbane wonder, her lashings of dreamy, reverb-addled shoegaze and bubbly nostalgia something better suited for the head-nodders and shoulder-swayers amongst us, rather than the moshlords. The set is pulled almost entirely from this year’s cracking sleeper hit Keepsake, and though she sounds quantifiably stunning on record, it’s here onstage that Hatchie and her band’s intimate idiosyncrasy really shines.

Making perfect use of the cozy Rad Bar stage (which, off to the side in its own little tent, has the best sounding mixes of the entire fezzie), The Lazy

Susans start at a level ten and drop below it for not so much as a second. Their full-length debut, Now

That The Party’ s Over, is one of2019’ s definitive must-listens, and with an extended set highlighting a good chunk of its doughy, heart-on-sleeve emo bangers, the quartet fast become an instant highlight of the weekend. The titular Antonia Susan is a natural in the spotlight, pouring out their heartbroken hymns with goosebump-inducing poignancy. Guitar in hand, their chemistry with lead shredder and backup vocalist Kieren Turnbull is, while often understated, something so perfect it could only otherwise exist in a dream.

With a whole album’s worth of ferocious newies, the polychromatic Adelaide punks in

West Thebarton cram their set to the rafters with raw, authentic energy. The quad-guitar attack belts across the fields as frontman Ray Dalfsen bellows dry and emotive. You’d be forgiven for thinking the septet were today’s headliners with how massive their crowd is; the band don’t take a second of it for granted, either, pumping the brakes not once throughout their 40-minute celebration of crunch and craw.

Capping the first night is a career-defining set from pop-rock luminary Amy Shark, who’s enjoyed a truly transcendental year as one of Australia’s biggest rising stars. Despite her recent soar in fame, however, the Brisbanite is right down to earth in her hourlong jaunt, cracking jokes and stirring shit aplenty in-between impassioned strums of her acoustic and vocal rollercoasters that leave even seasoned fans with their jaws dropped. It’s no

surprise they call her the love monster: Shark has all of our hearts gripped tightly in her claws.

Day two starts off with a curiously empty park, which means a dismal turnout for Gold Coast indie-popper San Mei. It’s sad, because Mei is an absolute gem with axe in hand, offering gem after gem of bold and bouncy incandescence. And despite only playing to a handful of punters, she and her band still give it their all, each track bursting at the seams with devotion. It’s undoubtable that Mei has a huge future ahead of her: she wields her Strat like a weapon and rocks the mic like her life depends on it.

The Delta Riggs look cheesy as all hell with their freshly pressed leather jackets and melodramatic stage movements – but with a slick set of fierce and fiery rock ’n’ roll behind them, the Melbourne lads get an instant pass for the cringe-inducing getup. A handful of new songs have our curiosity piqued, driven by lovably thick, overdriven leads and accented with just the right hint of Gallagher-esque tambourine. Alex Markwell is a demon with his sweat-soaked axe, every riff he spits somehow more stunning than the last.

Making a clear case for why they’ll end up headlining festivals like this in due time, Brisbane punks WAAX came out hard and heavy with an avalanche of anthems from their cracking debut album, BigGrief. The singles from it spur immediate chaos in the pits, axemen Ewan Birtwell and James Gatling shredding away to their hearts’ content while frontwoman Maz DeVita wrings her heart out into the mic. It’s hard to believe this year almost spelt the end for the fortuitous fivesome: here they’re sharp, searing and sprightly. If only their set were approximately ten times longer…

Melbourne nu-metallers Ocean Grove keep the intensity afloat with their crisp and quirky brand of off-colour craziness. In somewhat of a transitional phase as they head into their first proper era with new frontman (and former bassist) Dale Tanner, the five-piece run through reinvented versions of older tracks and tease a massive future with a handful of new ones. And though they have plenty of their own top-notch tunes to keep us off our butts, it’s a cover of the Presets classic “My People” that cements Ocean Grove as one of the festival’s key stars – who knew the only things missing from the club-house banger were some ripping overdrive and thrashing cymbals?

Expertly named, up next are Love Fame Tragedy, the side-project of Wombats frontman Matt Murphy and, no disrespect, a brilliant tease for whenever his main hustle’s next tour rolls round. It’s not that his new tracks are any bad, of course – the debut EP, I Don’ t Want To Play The Victim, But I’ m Really Good AtIt, is well worth your attention – but there’s just something so unique about Murphy’s stage presence that abets memories of seeing The Wombats crush it to packed mainstage crowds at festivals like Splendour In The Grass. Love Fame Tragedy’s set lives deep in the shadows of such reveries, and the same levels of energy and ardour are never even approached, let alone matched.

Somewhere between disco, punk and indiepop lies the cheerful charm of Sydney’s Georgia

June, who throw the Rad Bar tent into a tizzy with their resplendent set of soon-to-be anthems. The eponymous frontwoman is a show-stealer in every sense of the term, her performance deft and dynamic and doused all over in a gravitas typical of arena-fillers. Crumbly and coarse with his fretwork, Jack Johnston ads a nice level of bite to the otherwise ultra-bright rhythm section. The quintet reign with a flavour that’s undoubtedly unusual, but one we can’t wait to get another taste of. Georgia June are definitely one to keep an eye on.

As we’ve come to expect from the Melbourne mood-rocker, it takes exactly one second of

Courtney Barnett strumming on her bedazzled Jazzmaster for us to slip into an alternate dimension, where the vibes are so good and plentiful that we’re convinced Barnett is some kind of wizard. She dips into every corner of her timeline across the hourlong set, from early gems like “Avant Gardener” to recent cracker “Everybody Here Hates You”. She ebbs and flows between punchy punk-esque jams and sweet slow-burners, her and the CB3 taking time to explore and embrace each peak and valley, rather than simply run through the motions.

Barnett leaves us feeling cool, calm and collected; a welcomed vibe for sure, but one Canadian punks

F***ed Up are hellbent on catastrophising. Hot off the heels of their enormous DoseYourDreams album, the sextet bring an overflowing crowd right to its tipping point with cataclysmic circle pits and maniacal moshes in well-earned abundance. It’s a fitting end to the festival at large, with Damian Abraham and co. leaving no soul unpunished by their hard ’n’ fast sonic tsunami.

For yet another year, we leave Yours & Owls with spirits higher than Party Marty and hype for next year’s jaunt in full force. Wollongong will be an integral player in the future of Australian music, and it’s events like this – with an equal focus on community, atmosphere and, of course, incredible music – that are paving the way for its eventual domination. We, for one, welcome our new bucket hat-bearing overlords.