Report: Golden Plains 2014, Day 2

Our report from day two of the eighth annual Golden Plains festival, with highlights including Cosmic Psychos, Public Enemy, Neko Case and You Am I. Band reviews by DOUG WALLEN, LACHLAN KANONIUK and EDWARD SHARP-PAUL. Photos by CAMERON STEWART.

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Doug Wallen: The Orbweavers have always had a healing quality to their music, as quiet and blissful as can be. That readymade soothing is ideal for this slot, re-inflating punters feeling flattened by the night before. (Those that could actually rise and stumble down to the Supe, that is.) Just as sweetly gentle as the music is Marita Dyson’s chatter between songs, recalling her childhood dreams of running her nan’s farm and later working at the old Spotswood Sewerage Pumping Station, the inspiration for ‘Spotswood’.

Along those same lines is cartoonist (and much more) Michael Leunig, whose self-described mystifying effect on the audience is actually perfectly relatable. In fact, anyone familiar with his work could nestle right into his trademark layering of whimsy, wisdom and melancholy. As keynote speaker, he discusses gradually learning that we’re not the centre of the universe and shares a funny anecdote about settling on exact spots to camp – all chosen for relevance to the dreamy Meredith/Golden Plains experience. The line that stays with me? “Lovely things come out in the dark.” Leunig could later be seen wandering happily around the festival, as smitten with it as everyone else.

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Lachlan Kanoniuk: It’s before midday, the line for cocktails at Eric’s Terrace is justifiably long, and the sun is punishing the weary heads shuffling their way toward a red oasis in a plastic cup. The trial is rewarding – these Bloody Marys are a godsend. Auntysend, perhaps.

DW: Hiatus Kaiyote’s future soul is a slippery thing, prone to changing course. It’s also decidedly jazzy, with overtures to cosmic R&B as well. The Melbourne ensemble make sure to include their Grammy-nominated song ‘Nakamarra’ – which on record guests none other than Q-Tip – and the whole set is nicely mellow, if a bit limp. The only serious bumps come when singer Nai Palm pushes her signature vocal expressiveness too far, nearing unfocused dithering.

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Though not an actual jug band these days (they were once), The Perch Creek Family Jugband actually are from Perch Creek, NSW, even if they live in Melbourne now, and contain two sets of siblings. So the name is mostly accurate. These days they pillage bluegrass and country, but there’s even more in their sound than that, with one megaphone-spiked tune sounding weirdly R&B-ish. It doesn’t do much for me, but as cross-genre novelty it’s interesting enough.

Some things at the Supe just work without fail. A Spanish band in cowboy hats playing surf rock to hungover plebes turns out to be one of those things. Mostly instrumental, with a mariachi streak, Los Coronas knock out music as bright-eyed and high-energy as the crowd probably wish they felt on day two – although, with a strategic bit of hair-of-the-dog, a second wind isn’t so unlikely. Los Coronas’ set is a little long but is still a definite highlight of the weekend, getting a few sandals hoisted and, more crucially, lifting our collective spirits.

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But there’s only one Cosmic Psychos. Dubbed Wolf Creek: The Musical by one nearby wag, the trio’s Motorhead-style powerhouse approach is in full force. It’s no-nonsense punk set to lyrics that are, well, much closer to nonsense and that much more enjoyable for it. All blistering guitar solos and hilarious lyrics and banter, the band pretty well smash it even before breaking out a song about David Lee Roth that peaks with John McKeering rippling his grand beer belly for the crowd. Complete with a group bow at the end, the Psychos own the weekend. Or, at least, rival The Drones for sheer excellence while being a whole lot funnier.

LK: Back at Eric’s Terrace, someone has thankfully snaked the queue undercover as I procure an espresso martini – the least appropriate beverage for pubcore (That’s a joke, alright? Don’t make it a thing) luminaries Cosmic Psychos. They’re in cracking form today, culminating with John McKeering placing his guitar atop his skull and pulling off a finger-tapping solo while nailing the execution on a bare beer-gut roll, before flashing his arse as he bid farewell. Enough to bring a tear to the eye and a boot to the sky.

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Two years prior, Seekae ruled in a post-midnight timeslot with their then-instrumental compositions, cultivating deep grooves from the atmospheric LP +Dome. In the time since, percussionist Alex Cameron has unveiled formidable vocal talent on set opener ‘Another’. The addition of lyrics to the repertoire meant the afternoon scheduling proved less beguiling than yesterday’s Gold Panda misstep, crafting an intimacy that would have no doubt been lost in the rave o’clocks. After previewing material from a to-be-announced new album, Cameron makes his way behind the drum kit for the electronica jam ‘Blood Bank’ – a reminder that their previous record was well ahead of the local curve when it arrived in 2011.

DW: Japan’s dapper ensemble Osaka Monaurail play the sure-fire soul card that’s nearly always an easy victory at the Supe, commanding a huge crowd that’s bobbing in unison by the end. They don’t stray much from that crowd-pleasing, right down to James Brown’s evergreen ‘Sexy, Sexy, Sexy’.

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While Neko Case and her band are totally on, they’re still somehow low-key is just the right way for this time of day. As ever, Case’s songs are an easy showcase for her determined vocals and devastating, writerly lyrics, and this time they include all the standouts from last year’s resurgent album The Worse Things Get…. All free-flowing hair and cruising along on a veteran’s confidence, Case nails the three-guitar tumult and scathing putdowns (“You didn’t know what a man was until I showed you”) of her New Pornographers-esque single ‘Man’, plus many others. Among her band are Eric Bachmann of Archers of Loaf and Crooked Fingers – perhaps the closest we’ll get to seeing Archers on this stage? – and the great Kelly Hogan doing backup vocals and joking that every bit of inner-band conversation was trading barbecue recipes. Despite there not being a huge crowd, there’s an obvious adoration among the crowd there is.

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Edward Sharp-Paul: I came to You Am I as a casual admirer, which is the sort of thing that someone who hasn’t seen them live would say. Well, now I’ve seen them live, and goddamn. Their catalogue is stacked with first-rate rave-ups, and they have the chops and presence to do them justice. Tim Rogers’ voice is only just holding on – and the man himself seems a little edgy – but he’s got a touch of the vaudevillian about his stagecraft: windmills, a white suit that offers copious torso, and a devastating turn of phrase, as always.

He even brings down the curtain by smashing his guitar. Like an old pro, though, he makes sure that it’s only his $40 Cash Converters back-up. The only gripe? The shoegaze do-over of ‘Heavy Heart’ is a little saggy.

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LW: Kiwi dub titans Fat Freddy’s Drop feel like they should be a sure bet for a sea of boots, but I’m left wanting as the set fails to ignite into party-starting mode. A minor speedbump in today’s scheduling. Switching positions on the timetable with Osaka Monaurail would have been beneficial.

Public Enemy’s seminal late-’80s, early-’90s canon is pertinent enough to warrant a pass for some of the most garish self-promotion the Supernatural Amphitheatre has witnessed. It becomes a hilarious farce as we’re instructed to follow each member on Twitter, then to pull out our smartphones to claim a free download. Then the Twitter thing happens again later in the set. Best to laugh it off.

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It doesn’t really diminish the fact Chuck D is one of the most powerful MCs in history, and Flavor Flav one of the most charismatic. Their music still matters, with the rock elements of classic hip-hop translating perfectly to the live setting. DJ Lord, who replaced Terminator X in the late ’90s, had a moment to showcase his solo turntablism with cut-up rock classics. Flav makes his way down to climb on top of the barrier, offering a trademark “YEAAAAAH BOOIIIIIII” above the gathering throng to the right of stage. A killer showing, just don’t believe the Twitter hype.

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Undaunted by a mercurial dash from an afternoon Future Music Festival performance on the same day, Cut Copy return to the Supernatural setting with an album that could well have been catered for the time and place. The rave platitudes of Free Your Mind fill the festival grounds with a soothing wash of euphoria. ‘Lights and Music’ doesn’t accomplish the impossible task of surpassing its rainy Meredith 2011 airing, but the nostalgic buzz is potent.

Leaning towards a harder edge than the ravey-disco acts he’s sandwiched between, Sydney DJ Mark Pritchard offers a more than serviceable set of jungle-tinged beats. Dancing in front of the speaker stack feels amazing, but my head is about to explode. Returning to the campsite is a dangerous game, so I opt to pick up my first Pink Flamingo of the weekend instead.

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“Is that a kookaburra?” I’m slightly tardy returning to the Amphiteatre, around midway through Tornado Wallace’s festival-closing set. The avian cackles are chopped into something ridiculously danceable. Something special is going on right now. Something even more special is about to happen. The Coober Pedy University Band composition breaks into a full-blown didge jam. A calm before the storm.

“Woah-oh-oh Djäpana.”

The Yothu Yindi classic is dropped. 4:30am, and a few thousand kick up Meredithian dust under a sky untarnished by light pollution. This is what we’re here for.

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DAY 1: The Drones, Charles Bradley, Yo La Tengo, Flying Lotus and more.