Future Music Festival

I wrote this article over the days directly succeeding my attendance of Brisbane’s Future Music Festival for the purpose of uploading to this blog. Due to the fact I waited until after my next lecture and tutorial to officially start the blog this is somewhat of a belated entry.

In these modern times the demand of people wanting to go to the future far outweighs flux capacitor production and so Future Music Festival was created. The first leg of this touring festival kicked off on Saturday the third of March at the Doomben Racecourse, in Brisbane, under charcoal skies and the weight of expectation. I thought I may give my own person recount and reflection of my experiences at “Future”.

The mood was set right from the start when, on the barely 200 mete pilgrimage from my friends’ and my drop off point, we passed one break up, two hook ups, three arrests and four chuck ups; not to mention the soon to be familiar fog of alcohol and sweat which would at times become oppressive to the point of being nigh on unbearable. Upon entering the festival gates I was immediately struck by the sheer volume of unabashedly exposed cleavage. With almost comparable immediacy I was then struck by the fists of muscle bound, singlet wearing, alcohol fuelled pseudo-bodybuilders for looking at their girlfriends’ unabashedly exposed cleavage. If there was anyone planning on filming an Australian version of Jersey Shore they may as well have set up the casting office at the front gate.

As rain fell we progressed through the already muddied walkways to the main stage with our heads hung in a solemn acceptance of the fact that none of our clothes would ever come back quite the same. Our first stop was Jessie J at the main stage where we stood around waiting for the two Jessie Jay songs that we actually knew and planning out the rest of our day. After making the same generic comments about paying $140 for a festival to see someone sing about how “it’s not about the money, money, money” we left Jessie J in favour of Gym Class Heroes. As someone who essentially knows none of Gym Class Heroes’ music, bar that chorus they stole from Supertramp, I don’t feel qualified to make a judgement on their quality and I have been assured by my more familiarised friends that it was a very good performance, although I couldn’t help but look at the band members’ Nirvana and Crowded House shirts and longingly wish I was watching either of those bands instead.

The close of Gym Class Heroes’ set brought on the beginning of a short Ruby Rose DJ set which in turn led to the discovery of one of the most entertaining characters of the day, Ruby Rose Guy. I never found out this man’s name, or where he was from, or anything else about him, all I knew was he loved Ruby Rose. Standing next to me in the front row he broke down in tears professing his love for her. He turned to me and said “you probably think I’m crazy but I’m not, I just love her so much. I know that she’s a lesbian but I will dress as a girl, get surgery, whatever it takes. She is the most beautiful girl on the planet, she’s the only reason I came today; I need her.” He then turned back to the stage and screamed a heartfelt marriage proposal to her. He seemed somewhat surprised when she didn’t reply.

“The Naked and Famous” came on stage next, their indie uniforms baring stark contrast to the festival attire of the crowd. Similarly their subtle synths and harmonious vocals seemed quite out of place amongst the rest of the festival line up. All this scarcely mattered though as Skrillex’s set had begun and drawn the vast majority of the crowd like the pied piper of bogans using filthy bass drops in place of a pipe.  This meant that the left over crowd were either fans of The Naked and Famous or militant hipsters staunchly opposed to the mainstream appeal of Skrillex. I proudly place myself in the first category considering their debut, “Passive Me, Aggressive You” one of the better albums I have ever heard and so was overjoyed to be witnessing it live. The slightly ambient feel of The Naked and Famous’s music created a vastly different crowd environment to the other bands I attended with a huge increase in the amount of swaying and shoegazing. Everything seemed to be going well until the lead singer apologised to the crowd for a number of mistakes which otherwise would have gone unnoticed.  To the joy of the crowd they finished the set with “Punching on a Dream” which injected some life back into the increasingly ‘chilled out’ fans.

I decided I should go see the end of Skrillex’s set just as something to tick of the list of things I did in my day. Along the way I was given a free Cornetto as part of a promotion which put me in a great mood, but not great enough for me to look past the fact that Skrillex sounded kind of rubbish. As much as I’d like to blame him (and his ridiculous lobotomy patient haircut) I don’t think it was his fault. There was way too much bass (yes guy who lives across the road with the sub-woofer in his Golf, it is possible to have too much of a good thing) which made the whole sound far too murky and entirely drowned out any of the higher end sounds. The constant rumble never seemed to disappear obscuring any ‘drops’ and rather ruining the whole experience. Not that any of that seemed to bother his fan base who appeared hypnotised by the white sheen of his Macbook. If it’s any consolation, I’m fairly sure he didn’t play a wrong note in his entire set.

At this point I was given the choice between the clean cut and polished allure of “Tinie Tempah” and the perverted voyeuristic attraction of “Die Antwoord”… I don’t think it’s any surprise I went with the second and I’m sure as hell glad I did. Packed into the undercover stage the intermittent rain outside served to ensure that the humidity stayed high enough that the crowd was practically swimming. This mixed with body heat and the stench of sweat was a touch unpleasant, in much the same way that a red hot poker to the eye hurts “a little”; but no one was going anywhere because we were collectively witnessing one of the strangest and greatest shows any of us had ever seen. It didn’t matter how dirty their lyrics, how sickening their attitudes, how fucked up their looks, they put on a show that had the crowd engaged for its length. The energy emitted by Ninja, Yolandi and DJ Hi-Tek was infectious. Something about the simplicity and vigour of the music brought a primal grin to the faces of the crowd as they jumped back and forward and screamed odd phonetic variations on the multilingual lyrics being sung on stage. The show climaxed with the performance of “I Fink U Freaky” which mixed Die Antwoord’s hip hop origins with a large modern dance influence. The accelerating bridge culminating in the “jump mother f*cker, jump” breakdown led to some of the most aggressive jumping I have ever had the fortune of witnessing and solidifying it as my personal favourite song of the festival.

After this I had a brief break in which there were no bands I really wanted to see. Hungry, I forked out $10 for a coke and a hotdog only to have half of my hotdog viciously bitten by passer-by much less to my amusement than theirs. Thankfully it was time for the main show, at least for me. “Fatboy Slim” has been my musical hero for many years; he was my introduction to electronic music and to a whole world of music vastly different to anything else I had previously been listening to. I am even proud to claim I own a legal copy of his greatest hits which is about the biggest sign of fandom I can think of these days.  From the back of an ocean of flesh I saw Fatboy Slim appear on stage and immediately, to the joy of the masses, “Praise You” began to play but within a minute had been mixed into a different track not by Fatboy Slim. This set up a precedent for the rest of the set, short snippets of his own songs mixed into a large array of various others. You must give credit where it’s due, he is a true DJ, never letting the music settle, not just playing the tracks but really making them his own. The problem is he already had his own music, music that a lot of us really love and the reason that we came to see him. I can’t say it was bad, because it wasn’t, it was a great DJ set, but it was just a bit disappointing. It was like going to see a Picasso exhibition only to find a selection of paintings of other artists which he quite liked. It’s all well and good and you’re still going to see a lot of great art but it’s not the reason you went to the Picasso exhibition.

After Fatboy Slim there was enough time to catch the end of "The Wombats’" performance and luckily they played two of the about five songs of theirs I know. I had heard good things about the Wombats’ live performances and I was given no evidence the contrary. Like their marsupial namesake they were solid and had great drive without ever really pushing into ‘overdrive’. They finished with “Let’s Dance to JoyDivision” which considering New Order (formerly Joy Division) were the next band on stage my inner (not to mention my outer) music nerd had a fit of elation.

Having no desire to see “Swedish House Mafia” I decided I’d drop by the other three major finishing acts, Porter Robinson, New Order and Aphex Twin. I was recommended Porter Robinson, the 19 year old electro-house sensation, with the highest acclaim. He did not disappoint. Playing on a smaller stage he achieved the clarity of sound which Skrillex failed to. His drops hit with some real pungency and the crowd loved it. Next on my tour was classic “New Order” whom I felt compelled to see because I had no idea if I’d ever get another chance; not to mention it’s great for my indie-cred. The crowd seemed to consist entirely of the over 30s who had been uncomfortably hanging around the festival all day looking rather awkward and out of place. I think New Order knew they weren’t going to be winning any new fans this night and just played to their dedicated fanbase. If you were a New Order fan you would have loved it otherwise it was just watching a middle aged band perform to a middle aged crowd.

The final stop was one I wasn’t expecting too much from. I had never been an “Aphex Twin” fan really but again felt obliged due to his status in the world of music. I am quite comfortable to come straight out and say this was the best performance of the festival and something bordering on a life changing experience. I walked into the undercover stage and was immediately attacked by a barrage of lasers and strobes. It was like I had just wandered into a tenth level of hell, specific to epileptics. Richard (Aphex Twin) was barely visible, DJing in a shaded area in the centre of the stage. Around him were large screens with ‘trippy’ images being displayed; from swirling patterns to demonic faces super imposed onto live footage of the crowd. There were constant spinning walls of lasers and blinding pulsing strobes. On top of this was Aphex Twin’s own brand of ambient, acid techno creating a sensory explosion. There were no gaps between songs; I couldn't have even told you if there were any songs, there was just a constant pounding of drums and clangy melodic lines. It was hypnotic and surreal, almost like Aphex Twin didn’t want the portion on his crowd not on drugs to feel like they were missing out. When he finally finished the houselights came on and the stage began to be disassembled, this didn’t stop the crowd from calling for encores literally (I timed) 15 minutes after he had left the stage.

Bar the four hour odyssey which was my journey home that was the end to my eventful day. I left the racecourse damp, sweaty, sore, poorer, mud covered, tired, dehydrated and by myself, yet I felt entirely satisfied. The day had a few disappointments, some real surprises and a lot of experiences.