Splendour in the Grass 2017, a review

A unique compendium of east-coast culture, topped with great acts, run by dedicated people, all in perfectly nippy weather.

legitaboutjack
Jul 27, 2017 · 6 min read

Wednesday is the first day when you can seriously focus on getting your week started. There are no events on Wednesday night. This made plain the amazing luxury to be able to pause my life in the real world. To disappear to a cultural paradise like this for a full six days. I went with a cousin for our second time, and a friend for his first in six years. Whilst last year we had the luxury of a spare Land Cruiser, this year we made the journey in a cosier Liberty Sedan.

Public events like this require you to have various forms of shelter on hand. Whether they’re keeping the weather out at base camp, or blurring your neuroticism from the thousands of other young minds beside you. Minds who learnt long ago how to stop caring in these intense cultural crowd crushes. A small prayer before arriving at North Byron Parklands is usually a good idea, as NSW law prohibits any enjoyment like this without their involvement. I’ve had base thoughts in my life, but security and Police must enjoy searching through the vacuum sealed hatchbacks of 16–24 year olds. I could never do something so useless in the face of what is essentially a festival of competing alcohol newbies and psychotropic drug enthusiasts. Both styles of incapacitation are marketed to them every single day through paid and cultural media.

Tent and other shade-providing supplies in the car, we looped around the Parklands as directed by volunteers to our camping lane. In what I may as well call the 5-by-3-metres dash, all erectable equipment was made so. Success was had, but there was a bit of campsite infighting about lifting the car diagonally to better position the gazebo. After ten minutes of complex debate, we put the kettle on and enjoyed some smoked turf.

Across the festival, you find yourself spoilt for choice, so it is best to do as much venturing before things officially kick off on Friday. A great friend to me was part of a convoy of five vehicles who despite futile randomised traffic control methods, were able to stay together in their camping lane. Arriving at their site, I stood in awe. It looked like it could do the Sydney to Hobart yacht race, complete with inflatable chairs and tables for 20 people. I hoped that my great friend would pass me a drink to calm my excitement. He appeared as if I wasn’t the first, but his gift was more from the great vibes the festival was souping up. The place was vibrating in suspense.

Like at all good gatherings, gossip and drama emerge quickly. Something that is definitely new to the North Byron Parklands is the increased presence and measures of security. The searching of cars on the way in didn’t seem to be any more intense than usual. Many campsites were however targeted with sudden inspections by security and police. Many parishioners had already begun their morning cosmic festivities on Thursday. Calls to tone it down, avoid the beer pong, and limit any hardstyle-backed drop schedules until the searches stopped, were jarring to many. I saw a fair share of alcohol dumped into waterways, drugs seized and helium balloons inhaled by security, but luckily not past Thursday. The highlights were witnessing two indigenous ceremonies in the morning, and Goosebumpz later in the night at Tipi Forest. Relaxed wandering through a festival with only a fraction of the attendees inside was a true gift. Lowlights include being asked by many gorgeous people whether I could help them to “get on”. As there were few actual horses around, I focused on enjoying their brief company and then parted ways toward more loud, live music.

Friday meant security were more focused the important things. Watching the enigma of a schnitzel-wrap being made, checking whether nutella should really go on chips. A highlight must have been getting unique selfies alone in venues, just before being swarmed with polite, sober people. People albeit eager for someone to appear on the stage behind their hi-vis clad body.
Enough bitching about security, on to the matter of a morning start: Our own cookup of bacon, eggs and a heavy serving of mushrooms. The all-day breakfast selection across the festival left me in awe and anticipation.

Highlights for the Friday included Kingswood and Set Mo. Peking Duk was the epitome of what happens when you have nothing new to bring to the table, and all you proffer is 90’s pop played verbatim and significant flailing of body parts/costumes on stage. At least the crowd played along and made the atmosphere full of laughter. Such a perfect day of sunshine and sunsets for day one.

Saturday was one heck of a day, what was the busiest day of the festival. I remember starting the Fresh Dry White at 8.30am and then cruising from there to a 2am finish. I luckily don’t remember any lowlights. The heck came from an impromptu hiking trip to a next-door property with a crew I have yet to identify. This was followed by a back-door walk to the secure staff-only bar, and then a giggling walk through an empty amphitheatre to my campsite after that.
Highlights were Luca Brasi, Bag Raiders (smashed their self-titled album as a kid, the meme makes little sense to me), Confidence Man, Dope Lemon, Catfish & The Bottlemen and of course, Indiginoise at Tipi Forest.

Sunday, a day that started nice and became the coldest of them all. Definitely bolted for a paid breakfast after the prior night’s caper, a well stacked bacon-egg-hash-mushroom-haloumi-heartstopper. Thankfully the southerners knew what a flat white was so there was no trouble on the stimulant side of things either. Saturday seemed to be a big day for all, leading to a very comfortable Sunday. The pace of everyone was much more relaxed, neighbours at camp were chatting away with us, and we were met with tales from everyone we met. The beer flowed, the drinks were mixed and the vitamins were taken for the final day. The sun shone but there was no warmth, we all knew this was our last chance.

Highlights for the last day were Bonobo, The Smith Street Band, Client Liaison (Tina Arena was pretty great), Thundamentals and LCD Soundsystem. That final show at the Amphitheatre was a great send off, throwing everything they could into the sky and lighting it for all 180 degrees to see.

Monday, the day you partly dread but end up adoring. Being the driver, I didn’t have as much fun as others but at least the traffic wasn’t the mangled mess it was last year. Left at 11am, back in Brisbane for 1.30pm. I was much better prepared this year but I still have much to learn about my own festival-going technique. It was a bit of a shock to me last year, as it was a unashamed upper-middle-class pissup day tripping contest, and it continues to be. It is a beautiful, classy and a strobing show of our generation’s culture — no matter how fake or loud it may appear to be, that’s what it is. It was great to be there to see it in true action, drop my mind into neutral and let the hills take me on that journey.

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