The Falls Festival 2010 - Lorne - Day Four

As tents once again played host to unbearable heat ahead of a surprise forecast - one signaling a Victorian summer’s belated introduction - the big day had finally arrived. With only hours remaining until the need for a brand new calendar, Falls Festival organisers hoped to curate a sensational conclusion to the year that was 2010. As patrons would soon discover, however, not all would go off without a hitch.

Melbourne dance-specialists World’s End Press would kick off proceedings for the Grand Theater, crafting their brand of booming electronica backed with an array of scintillating synth waves in a dynamic, slow-burning display. The four-piece possess an excellent sense of energy through a mysterious, other-worldly ambiance, that - though immediately apparent - exercises admirable restraint. The band subject their tracks to a kind developmental period, each composition taking shape before exploding into an exhilarating dance-funk fusion. It’s a brilliantly executed approach they’ve formulated. After all, there's a real art involved in peaking at the right time and they have it down. Overall, World’s End Press certainly have some mean pop songs in hand coupled with a cool commercial appeal, hopefully ensuring due recognition at some point down the track.

Cloud Control took to the Valley Stage, set to cap off a wonderful year. Bliss Release had been the debut record so eagerly-anticipated of the Blue Mountains bunch and, furthermore, Cloud Control proved they had the live credentials to back it up. Such was the story here, Cloud Control firmly re-establishing their claim to fame as one of the biggest and brightest acts of the industry. The harmonious ecstasy of This Is What I Said injected life into a sore and sleepy crowd, the rollicking Buffalo Country taking the reigns shortly after. As an enduring fan, one complaint came to mind: their single Death Cloud has been altered from its original conception, bearing a slower tempo and different instrumental components as well as an entirely changed outro. The song had remained at its familiar best as recently as Meredith, so to longtime followers of the band, the decision to shake things up may have come as a surprise. Fortunately, it would prove a microscopic chink in the band’s formidable armour, their elements of folk, country and rock blending seamlessly for marvelous results. Handclaps, harmonies and infectious melodies galore, it was an accomplished effort perfect in setting the bar for acts to come.

The festival’s second round of comedy would be a more successful outing than its predecessor, but the interval threatened to fall apart quite early in the piece courtesy of some unruly hecklers. MC Michael Chamberlain received the worst of it, enduring abuse before even so much as reaching the microphone. It was clear that certain punters were out to make life hard for the comedian with no discernible reason at hand. Chamberlain responded in a casual manner before resorting to his own stock of profanities, scoring the greatest applause of his routine. Josh Earl would assist in easing the pain, his musical comedy - touching upon grammar nazis to John Farnham concerts - genuinely delighting the crowd. Like Chamberlain, Earl did not deserve criticism. The difference was, however, that Earl’s exceedingly entertaining and amusing routine actually kept hecklers at bay. Tom Gleeson would prove the surprise packet, however, his dissections of pharmacists’ photo services and a sordid massage story claiming the highlight of Falls’ second comedy interlude.

It’s unfortunate that, following Gleeson’s set, most vacated the Grand Theater. The act would yield such awful luck for so many, for The Morning Benders - in their debut tour of Australia - would produce a truly phenomenal set considered to be a highlight of the entire event. Crooning disarming sentiments, their endearing frontman Chris Chu demonstrated a cooly-assured peacock strut, gently charming a devoted audience. All had soon fallen under their spell as, song for song, the band began to weave gritty guitar stabs amidst subdued beauty. From the irresistible groove of single Promises to the manic percussion of Cold War, The Morning Benders’ set yielded challenging, surprising recreations of their criminally underrated releases. The band would also indulge in a cover of Fleetwood Mac’s Dreams, received warmly by festival-goers. The defining moment, however, would come in their performance of Excuses, the single greatest indie anthem of the year. Chu relished the opportunity to lead the theater in its fervent refrain, the crowd unified in a heavenly release bar after bar. The band joining Chu for vocals, they deconstructed and rebuilt, piece by piece, the song’s harmonious bliss before birthing, again, its fully-fledged splendours. Their performance of Excuses gave rise to a truly communal experience, forging an enduring festival moment not likely to be forgotten any time soon. A treat both beautiful and sophisticated, here’s hoping The Morning Benders bring their indie-rock back out our way sooner rather than later.

A difficult decision was imminent: Cold War Kids or Dan Kelly’s Dream Band? Well, why not have the best of both worlds? Californians Cold War Kids might have been scheduled later if it weren’t for a stellar bill, but festival-goers were nevertheless grateful for an afternoon delight instead. Showcasing a murky, coarseness in their super-serious rock and roll tact, Cold War Kids showed the wares of an accomplished outfit, new and old material surging emphatically forth from the stage. Frontman Nathan Willett is the foremost attraction, as if to possess an outstanding vocal mitosis of Split Enz founder Phil Judd and Freddie Mercury. As if that weren’t enough, it’s bolstered by a confident stage swagger, Willett immediately identifiable as a natural performer well within his element. The melancholy piano-stamping We Used To Vacation excited the smitten crowd, with Louder Than Ever promising bigger and better things to come, their third album Mine Is Yours due later this month. Expect Louder Than Ever to explode into one of the biggest songs of the year.

Meanwhile, Dan Kelly and his Dream Band would play the Grand Theater. Kelly, as one of the finest purveyor of pop, just might be one of the most overlooked performers in the country, boasting light whimsical rock with a clever, psychedelic edge. The Decommissioner helped open the band’s account for the day, its casual country-inspired swing accommodating a mind-bending solo here and there. The Dream Band are an admirably adept bunch, unique instrumental components a staple of the set. It’s all in the days work for the band, their surprising tangents illustrating well the imaginative flare of Kelly and his songs' brilliant scope. Single Hold On I’m Coming On yielded another festival highlight - the Grand Theater’s second in a day - boasting a blistering, organ-aided chorus resulting in total party euphoria. The quirky cut in Bindi Irwin Apocalypse Jam only pedaled the fun-filled fantastical nature of the set further. Dan Kelly’s Dream Band goes to show the clue is in the title, a wild, magical ride ensuing. Despite a poor attendance in light of Cold War Kids’ set, the band tore through each pop gem to exceptional results.

Scheduled for a twenty-minute interlude between bands, Beardyman, a two-time beatboxing champion, had formidable task of tiding the crowd over until the next act. A lone figure, he would step up to the plate, utilising an array of loop-pedals and his own voice alone in laying down a selection of phenomenal tunes. He’s pretty cool, but even still, Beardyman is a nerd. He has to be to do what he does, displaying a techno-whiz-kid genius in the execution of his craft, creating compelling and meticulous originals and covers almost effortlessly. The idea of a beatbox artist won’t appeal to everyone, but you have to at least admire the guy’s ingenuity and co-ordination in pulling off one of the most unique sets of the four days.

Later, Tame Impala would invoke a smooth psychedelic vibe, as if to shroud the entire valley in a beautfiul twilight intoxicant. The much-celebrated Perth outfit provided an ideal soundtrack to the hours dwindling away, the sun melting into the horizon. An array of wild, disorderly guitars backed by blazing synths ensured a set that would sailing through spectacular soundscapes, a free-flowing trip crafted effortlessly from the band’s debut album, Innerspeaker. Existing in a momentary haze, all eyes of the festival were upon the enchanting force. Their set seemed to last an eternity, one fluid jam bleeding seamlessly into the next. Indebted to such bands as Cream, Led Zeppelin and their respective eras - as well as, perhaps, The Mighty Boosh - there will no doubt exist those punters who found Tame Impala a little too derivative. An open mind is key, however, as there’s plenty about this band to enjoy.

The festival on its home stretch, it was time for uber-indie-credible Pitchfork-endorsed mega-band The National. Typically, a sensationally lush exercise in melancholia would be on offer, the band - even at their most sprightly - intent on playing a campfire instead of, say, a new year’s music festival. That basically summed up the whole situation for Falls: diehard fans aside, nobody was particularly thrilled to have The National and their meandering misery keep the impending party at bay. The tender Bloodbuzz Ohio and the thunderous Conversation 16 imbued their set with a welcome sense of energy and urgency, but they would incur only rare moments of interest from a crowd that was after something else. On this occasion at least, The National’s brooding, slow-burning indie-rock seemed much more suited to the confines of their own sideshows. Chances are, if you liked them before Falls, you knew that already.

The Rapture, meanwhile, represented everything festival-goers had been after, their peppy dance-punk igniting the crowd into rump-shaking action. Pieces Of The People We Love helped set the tone, its pulsating groove shifting the pit as feelings ascended to an unmatched elation. It was an all-in party as cowbell finally arrived to the Valley Stage for 2003’s House Of Jealous Lovers, Luke Jenner bleating an impassioned refrain. The Rapture’s furiously fun stage antics worked to assure the crowd that the night was going to be one big party and we were all in it together. Poptastic anthem No Sex For Ben set the festival alight again, its chorus repeated with gusto. Exiting from the stage following a festive fifty minutes marked by a decidedly funky, sweaty exuberance, The Rapture had effortlessly primed Falls for its big moment. It was now up to Joan Jett and The Blackhearts to bring 2010 to an amazing conclusion.

One must wonder then, if we had expected too much. The events that unfolded resembled multi-pronged trident of disappointment that would impale the festival to a critical condition. The first problem came in the indisputable fact that Joan Jett’s appearance acted as an unforeseen comedown from The Rapture’s celebrated performance. A rather large come down in fact, the situation worsened still by the poor output of Joan Jett’s endeavours. Whereas The Rapture had pumped their sound throughout the entire valley, Jett offered a dilute attempt at rock and roll, achieving little more than a whimper to those stood outside the pit. It was astounding how one band could unequivocally blow everyone away, only to the have next severely underwhelm in the decibel department. Never realised or rectified by anyone who might have made a difference, the mousey outcome proved hugely alienating and dissatisfying for a lot of patrons, disinterest in Jett’s half-baked show spreading like a virus.

But what’s worse than the equivalent of a whisper emanating from a festival sound system? Complete and utter silence. The whole thing was miserable. With their countdown imminent, the festival crew cut Joan Jett’s sound. In a shambolic twist, neither the female rocker or the Blackhearts were aware of the move, playing their hearts out until the end of the song. The most patrons received were the tinny, distant sound of drums, as a confounding period set upon the festival, seemingly ensuring that the transition from 2010 to 2011 would be a total catastrophe. Understandably, social circles strewn throughout the valley became fed up with the situation at hand. As a result, individual countdowns flared up all over the festival, disregarding a strict adherence to time. Punters had first shed their faith in Joan Jett and were more than prepared to discard their faith in the festival, the celebrations sporadically. Whether anyone was accurate was anybody’s guess, but people opted to bring in the new year in their own way nevertheless.

Suddenly, the big screen would ignite, declaring the arrival of 2011 - sans an official countdown. It was the death knell for the occasion, festival-goers groaning at the sheer incompetence of all involved. The time would come when Joan Jett and the festival staff would find their feet and, at last, a true countdown could actually occur. Of course, by that stage, it would be too little too late, a flood of patrons fleeing long before the anti-climactic mess and indeed before I Love Rock And Roll ever sounded. The move would be more than justified, even if it meant missing the spectacular Sleigh Bells who were left to pick up the pieces. After all, this was supposed to be the rock concert to end all rock concerts and it couldn’t even end 2010.

FINAL THOUGHTS:

Falls Festival 2010 was, on the whole, a fantastic experience with many of its acts living up to their hype. Both local and international acts - though at times the quality proved inconsistent - made their mark. The Living End and Paul Kelly reminded us all how we should cherish our homegrown talents, Marina And The Diamonds and The Morning Benders were outstanding in their respective performances, with the likes of Interpol, Klaxons and The Rapture were similarly unforgettable. From a music perspective, you couldn’t really complain.

2010’s countdown will linger on as a disappointing aspect of the festival, unfortunately. There have emerged reports suggesting that Joan Jett’s manager even went so far as to approach the starlet mid-set to explain what was about to go down. Well, if that’s true, whatever was said was lost in translation. Also, why would you leave it until then to organize that stuff? Would it have changed much anyway? It’s hard to know. Maybe it’s a laboured point, but fact remains that Falls is a new years festival. You have to get these things right.

The countdown debacle, however, was a grand total of one setback in an otherwise flawlessly fun four days, only strengthening the suspicion that Lorne is the place to be come new years eve. On behalf of The Dwarf, happy new year!

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