As the caked mud stains are still drying on our pants, here’s a trip down memory lane to last year’s Laneway Festival in Melbourne.
February 5, 2010
St Jerome’s Laneway Festival
Footscray Community Arts Centre, Melbourne, Australia
(via Kane Hibbard)
Event: Damien Rice in concert
Date: February 25, 2007 (Sunday)
Venue: The Tivoli, Brisbane
It was the last sold out venue in his Australian tour. The Tivoli was the perfect place for an intimate musician like Damien Rice. The crowd spilled into the room and everyone scattered to find the most decent spot to enjoy the concert. Many secured the balcony with a first class view up above. With seats. Either on velvet cushions or on the polished wooden floor. I, with an incompetent height, decided the leftest corner by the stage with the speakers just right beside my ears. As time passed, I would learn to appreciate the very spot I have chosen. It did not matter that my knees were about to collapse after standing for an hour plus outside, with roughly four hours plus more to go. There, I waited patiently.
The crowd welcomed Fionn Regan eagerly. He wore a hat. He carried a suitcase and played two guitars alternatively with his initials duct-taped on the surfaces. Hailed from the same country and signed under Damien Rice’s label, Heffa, Fionn’s voice was of a young Damien Rice. His music brought the crowd back to the vintage days of black and white, a relaxed stroll in the park with the master and mistress. You could almost see a fountain with a cupid statued in the center. Although his melody was leaning more towards the genre of country folk, and a tad bit more cheerful, his lyrics were written with the same ink of simplicity Damien uses for his songs. When he sang about a girl and going on a date with the girl, he sang about the girl and going on the date with her. There were no pretenses or hidden meanings. After every song, he would tip his hat gratefully and thanked the crowd for their support.
After’s Fionn’s hour long set, there was a short interval before the lights dimmed down once again and Damien Rice emerged last after his band members, cellist Vyvienne Long, bassist Shane Fitzsimmons and backing vocalist Lisa Hannigan. Later, Damien would explain Tom Osander, a.k.a Tomo’s absence: he has “beautiful important things” to tend to. He opened with, of all songs, a B-side, The Professor. The crowd embraced it with a heartwarming applause. It was unexpected when Lisa stepped up and took on the second verse. I was literally captivated by her hoarse low-toned voice. There I stood, shackled by her spell as she sang, “Cry when I should, and I laugh when I could” and sang, “But he’s the professor and he thought that he should know what makes me comes, what makes me stay…” If I were ever still a little girl, I would wish to grow up and be like her.
Damien proceeded with a string of songs, interlacing beloveds from both O and 9. Only then he noticed the crowd and decided to have a little chat as he tried to figure out what to do next. One thing I noticed about Damien was he was not a person for small talks. He did not seem to do well with spontaneous speeches. He struggled to find the next and right words to say, but ended up with babbles that was not funny, yet the crowd decided to laugh anyway. But there were no stutters and second thinkings every time he started off a new song. He performed with his heart and the band harmonised with him in one accord. Every beat his heart took was right with Vyvienne’s wailing cello, Shane’s supporting bass and Lisa’s haunting chords. Even the lights changed colours and went off and on, all at the precise moments.
Damien basically performed all of the songs off O, a territory most of the crowd was more familiar with compared to 9. They sang along to favourite tracks like Delicate and Cannonball. They cheered for Rootless Tree when Damien drifted fluently into it after Volcano. They applaused as Damien took a seat at the forsaken piano for it was a cue for the self-pitiful 9 Crimes. They clapped their hands along Coconut Skins of contradicting lyrics and rhythm. Someone asked for more B-sides and instantly, he strummed the opening chords to Rat Within the Grain. Maybe the crowd did not know what song it was because they were a moment stunned when he started, but it was one of my favourite B-sides. “I only wanted to be wonderful and wonderful is true. In truth I only really wanted to be wanted by you”. Everyone loved it.
He introduced I Remember as a song of changing our minds. Carefully, Lisa thread the first part before Damien took hold with his guitar and blew the crowd away. The speaker was right next to me and I could feel the anger (literally) vibrating my skin and bones as he screamed words I failed to remember.
Damien said fuck the French, for the Australians made better wines as Lisa filled up wine glasses and passed them around the stage. Only when he took hold of the bottle did he realise the wine was made in New Zealand. “You guys are all the same.” He attempted to joke. So maybe he was funny there. Everyone laughed as if drunk. (There was a bar in The Tivoli, after all). He followed up with a tale of a drunken guy and gal and slipped into Cheers Darlin’ with Fionn not having a slightest clue what he was doing being called to play the piano solo.
Damien asked for the lights to go off. Vyvienne dipped the piano keys for a change and they eased into Cold Water in the dark. It was all coming to an end. This wonderful night. The crowd burst the seams with a full volume ovation – we were all already standing anyway – as Damien and co. thanked the marvellous crowd and bid us good night and goodbye. Yet every single person in the crowd knew it was not the end. Not yet. Something was still missing.
The ovation was long and undying, until Damien returned once again and decided to let us pick what he should sing last. Unlike his Melbourne set, where a fan was lucky enough to go on stage to perform with him, and the crowd got to compose a spur-of-the-moment song with him, the Brisbane fans were not given the slightest chance for song requests when he was stuck halfway through his set. It was either The Blowers’ Daughter, Sand or Elephant. The vote was. Of course. The concert went on close to three hours. Damien and Lisa sang till almost midnight. “Till I find somebody new”.
Event: The All-American Rejects in concert
Date: August 18, 2006 (Friday)
Venue: The Arena, Brisbane
It all started with an almost missed poster in Chinatown. It was a dark lime green but the prints were clear enough. Normally there would not be posters of musicians hanging around if they were not to perform locally. I went home that day and went online immediately to google on The All-American Rejects’ tour dates. My heart was caught in my throat when I found out they were heading down south in a week’s time.
Questions sprouted in a nanosecond. Are there still tickets available? Where can I get them? How much will they be? Who will I go with? Should I go? Is this even for fucking real?
Ah the goodness that is the Internet. Everyone should make a best friend out of the Net dude. I was able to hunt down three outlets selling tickets at different prices. I have found a new friend: Rocking Horse. They sold the cheapest tickets at a mere $41.80. However, if I were to go I would not have any company as my friends are not fans of the rock genre. Besides, most of us are poor students. But the heck with it. I guess six months is long enough waiting for a band I want to see live. I have listened to their album often enough to wish would it not be nice to see them live. Here it is. A dream waiting to come true. The next morning, I headed down to the city and bought a ticket for myself. I would have the whole crowd to be my company.
Figuring out my way to get and come back from the venue was already half the fun. (I may be sarcastic here.) I did not even know the venue’s exact location. Gawd, I was so new to all of this it was kind of creepy.
There was already a line forming when I arrived. Everyone was in groups or at least in pairs. I think I was the only singular entity tonight. I felt like an idiot; people were looking at poor little me. I think I looked lost sometimes. Poor poor little Asian girl.
The crowd was the usual suspects. Punks dressed in all black with their favourite bands’ names emblazoned across their chest. Blink 182. Taking Back Sunday. Atticus (OK, so this is not a band.). And the likes. Chuck Taylor’s Converse. Vans’ checkers. Skinny jeans. Everyone almost looked the same.
The gate opened at 7pm. Suddenly, the crowd just grew rude and started shoving. Everyone wanted the front stage. I was almost at the front. Probably three or four rows away from the railing. Sweet. Fans made a quick pit-stop to buy T-shirts. Others went to buy drinks. Now that we were already in the venue, all we had to do was wait.
Avalon Drive was one of the two supporting acts to perform. I do not know who the heck they are. But there were fans amongst the crowd and they were extremely insane. They were shoving around and the girls in front of me was not pleased. Who would be pleased being shoved around anyway? Alas, it is after all a rock concert. It is no fun if nobody shoves around and pissed people off. The band was one of those punk bands. Screamos and good percussion riffs. It did not matter if you do not know the band. As long as you get the drift, it is all good. The reminded me a lot of Story of the Year and sometimes Angels and Airwaves. Those dreamy guitar whines. Some of their rhythms were heard of before. They were nothing spectacular.
By the time they were done, my curiosity of the people standing upstairs was getting the best of me. It looked so cosy up there. Thus, I gave up my almost decent spot in search of some alcohol. There is a reason why they sell 18+ and All Ages tickets. There is bound to be booze. And said booze is indeed upstairs. Oh, silly me for cramming amongst the All Ages people when I have the privilege of watching the concert upstairs without being shoved around. So I switched position. The security guard looked at me funny even after I showed him my ID.
The poison: Vodka and lime.
Suddenly, I felt sleepy as my ears and cheeks heat up from the alcohol. It was only a little past 8pm and it already felt like I had been there for two hours. My feet were killing me. And it turned out the upstairs was not as cosy as it seemed. Not that it was crowded. The railings were hogged. Everyone was fucking taller than me. I had no clear view but to peek past bobbing heads and shoulders. Lady at the front, please do not move around too much. A girl with bigger proportion totally blocked my somewhat decent view and I had to shift around. I looked like a bigger idiot upstairs. And there was something grown up about these 18+ people. (Well duh.) Yet more laidback. Like attending a performance in a mellow and intimate venue. Later, as the concert progressed I could see the crowd swaying left and right and was kind of glad I was not one of them. Some of them tried to surf but they were carried off the minute they got up atop the crowd by the security guards upfront.
Hellogoodbye came on. They were something toned down a little. The lead had a distinctive voice and I like that about him. If he mingled with the technical, I would believe he is the person singing the Chicken Little song. The crowd liked him. He looked peculiar. You know, those people walking around dressing a tad bit different from the majority and looked like he has so much unique musical soul in him it just radiates out of him. Their songs were near quirky. But yet so much fun. I thought about buying their CD to have a go at them. I did not know why I changed my mind.
When the lights dimmed and The All-American Rejects came on, I lost my somewhat decent view to no view at all. As they were performing Dirty Little Secret, I could not even find a gap that overlooked the lead’s mic onstage. Did I just pay almost $42 to just listen to them live? This blows. Fortunately, some holes came through. Beggars could not be choosers. I had to settle for second last best. It was not much. Probably none at all. But at least I could see them. Tiny tiny them.
They played most of the songs from their second album. The sequence was a little vague to me because I had no mind to memorise the playlist so do forgive me. Dirty Little Secret, Stab My Back, Top of the World, Dance Inside (I fucking love this song.), I’m Waiting and maybe, just maybe, 11:11PM. The only mellow song they performed was It Ends Tonight. They sang some silly impromptu song about water while distributing water bottles smacked with their saliva. There were also some songs from their first album. The annoying electric guitar stung the room. It vibrated the wooden floor I was standing on. It deafened my ears. The all-famous Swing Swing; even the 18+ crowd perked up when they started performing. Some B-sides: Paper Heart and Eyelash Wishes. And to end all songs, The Last Song. Of course we all knew it was not the last song. The crowd demanded an encore. They came back, performed Move Along, Tyler made up some song about not forgiving the fans if they threw water bottle at him, and they were gone.
They did not perform Night Drive. That song could have rocked the venue so fucking hard. And not even my favourite ballad Straitjacket Feeling. They ran out of expensive T-shirts. They took away my ticket prior to my entrance. My view was never the best being a midget. The pictures I took sucked big time asses. However, it was a good de-stress weekend for me after being burdened with a heavy assignment for the week. I would love to do it all over again. Maybe this time, sneak backstage, get wasted and fuck a band member. But merely doing it all over again is enough.
Backseat Radio II 