Golden Plains Festival Review: love is in the air & it’s catching

Golden Plains Festival 14 Review: Meredith Supernatural Amphitheatre with Pixies, lovedust, BNGERS.
8 minute read.

A cheer goes up.
It gets louder as others cotton on. A man has proposed to his special lady friend under the purple lantern.
She has an elated, “Yes of course, dummy” look on her face.
It’s noon on the second day of Golden Plains 14 and everyone is getting around this couple.
They probably don’t know it but the Interstitial DJ Noise In My Head is playing Arthur Russell’s That’s Us/Wild Combination — a wistful, completely fitting soundtrack to a pivotal moment. A zephyr glides through The Supernatural Amphitheatre.
So much of Golden Plains and Meredith Music Festival is about memory dovetailing with The Moment.

Rach and Matt’s Wedding at Golden Plains 2020 by Steve Benn

I was standing on that exact spot in 2010 with a Kiwi girl I’d known for only a few months when Neil Finn played Fall At Your Feet and I jokingly dropped to one knee. Our mates all became wider-eyed ...then I realised Finn was strumming Private Universe. Dummy.
We now have two daughters and a volatile and exquisite union. Bonded by Meredith.

Another couple tied le knot on Saturday night at Golden Plains (see above). They posted a tatty marriage invite on trees: “Rach and Matt are getting hitched and you’re invited. Sorry this is rough, we’re tryna save $$$ for the wedding.” A ceremony was held under the Golden Arch at 7pm because, well, this is The Sup’.
The show didn’t start until The Smoking Ceremony and Welcome To Country set the scene. This is Wadawurrung Country.
So, who got *The Boot, who should have been booted and who brought Corona Virus with them? Quite concerning.
*the ultimate way to show the performer you’re picking up what they’re putting down

Smoking Ceremony at Golden Plains 2020 by Ben Fletcher

SIMONA CASTRICUM
Bathed in yellow and blue lights, Castricum made full use of the ever-increasing oomph of the Meredith PA, both musically and as a soapbox. “This is a track for all you trans and non-binary people who have been hassled by a TERF,” she said. “Is this a Depeche Mode cover band?” someone asked. Quiet in the cheap seats. Castricum’s guest singer m8triarchy put the banger in g-banger and nailed her spot on new jam Supertouch. Bill Callahan played later and should 100 per cent have been switched to this earlier slot for an afternoon sway, notwithstanding his cover of Leonard Cohen’s So Long, Marianne. Even if fetish isn’t your fetish, Castricum gave the late afternoon crowd plenty of reasons to work it in a woke way.

Simona Castricum at Golden Plains 2020 by Suzanne Phoenix

EZRA COLLECTIVE
This should explain things, via Brute Springclean’s Instagram, thanks fire-crotch.

SLEAFORD MODS
The ‘Mods became Sup’ Gods. “Sack the fooking manager!” Somehow they sounded like Die Antwoord, Von Sudenfed and John Cooper Clarke. A 19 year old kid stood there, jaw agape, “Why is he so angry? I don’t get it.” Shut up and pogo, twat. Whipping his text pistols around, lead-shouter Jason Williamson offered up similar sentiments to our political leaders: “Fook off you posing fooking coconut.” Sleaford Mods, together since 2007, did what the greats have done before them like Imelda May, Client Liaison and Amp Fiddler. Won over new and old. Even the cynical millennial started singing along to TCR. One more Williamson bon mot: “Golden Plains, give ooos a kiss!”

C.FRIM
After a Personal Worst bedtime of 11.48pm, I woke up at 2.30pm to C.Frim’s breakneck set of 135-155 bpm techno treachery and Nick Skitz-era hard house. Equally awesome/awful. She contextualised it with Underworld’s Born Slippy. Andee Frost informed me Bufiman came on afterwards and played an hour of floaty, en pointe house. I’m sourcing the Mixcloud set as we speak, patient reader.

Sleaford Mods at Golden Plains 2020 by Steve Benn

SUNDAY
J. MCFARLANE’S REALITY GUEST
It’s cool see humans doing exactly what they were born to do. J McFarlane’s band wore purple capes, like we didn’t think they were already super. It was 11am and the local group said give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free and finished with a baggy, tranquil groove that had me ad libbing “Twistin’ my melon man.” A gong was hit, making it the perfect soundbath for those queuing 50 metres for the showers.

J.McFarlane’s Reality Guest at Golden Plains 2020 by Ben Fletcher

MWANJE
Later that evening, Sampa The Great would ask “Where are my black queens?” Her sister Mwanje Tembo and band started the day off representing female people of colour. It was Mwanje’s first festival performance and she handled it with amazing grace. Highpoint? Her debut single The Divine where she sang “floating stars on your tippy toes” as “dibby dose”, a similar honey-rasp to sis, using melisma and stacked, fluffy pancake harmonies to clear our collective head-fog.

WEYES BLOOD
Last time she was here for Sugar Mountain the Pennsylvanian-raised singer started with a way-outta-line joke “for all the feminists out there” that threw everyone. This time she’s a little older, a little Weyes-er, wearing a cream pant-suit and armed with Titanic Rising. She conjured quite the spell then unveiled a cover of Procol Harum’s Whiter Shade of Pale. “Feel the burn for Bernie Sanders,” she said in a sexy, robotic monotone, making MelBerniens beam days before Joe Biden seized the day. Her final song Movies took me to the memory dovetail Moment of other Sup’ songs: Julia Holter controlling the tides with Sea Calls Me Home in 2015 and Angel Olsen unfurling Sister in 2016. Movies truly threw a friend of mine: onto the grass. They collapsed. This is a woman who has never fainted in her life. Before you assume, no, it wasn’t Persian rugs. “I had been drinking alcohol and no water and the last song kept building up and it was too powerful.” A doctor in the ctowd appeared, then a wheelchair. Quite a sight. She was wheeled to the medical tent where she made a speedy, bashful recovery. No Blood, no foul.

Crowd at Golden Plains Festival 2020 by Steve Benn

GENERAL LEVY
Best on Sup’ for my money. The UK don dealt with sound issues like a pro and – as Cable Ties’ Nick Brown pointed out regarding the PLUR punters – nobody got antsy or booed, we all rolled with it until the General and his DJ got rolling again with 170 bpm drum’n’bass barnburners. “This is for Keith Flint of The Prodigy,” he said, flicking his dreads like he was drying a mop before a remix of Voodoo People. My mental notes: “Elon Musk must refine the tech to allow reviewers to dictate notes via their cerebral cortex straight into the cloud ...because how the heck am I supposed to stop in the middle of this?”

EVELYN CHAMPAGNE KING + MONDO FREAKS
This week’s recovery has been made far easier with one disco earworm that keeps doing a lap around my head like it’s a juicy apple: “Ain’t no doubt about it, I’m in love.” A glitter-faced colleague held their Boot up and afterwards exhaled: “Damn, that was a good shoe.” A fellow writer summed it up: “A bit Vegas, a bit cruise ship, funky as.”

Sampa The Great at Golden Plains 2020 by Suzanne Phoenix

SAMPA THE GREAT
I mean, come on. “Great” is starting to undersell her. Fresh from becoming the first artist to win the $30,000 Australian Music Prize twice for her album The Return, Sampa waited patiently for 30 minutes while sound issues were sorted; cooler than the other side of the pillow. On International Women’s Day she took us into her specific world through Rhymes to The East.

HOT CHIP
I gave my coterie a hot tip for Hot Chip. Front left speaker. Sure enough, there was room to move. Alexis Taylor’s Big Dork Energy and the band’s jovial goofiness belied the urgency of Ready For The Floor, Huarache Lights, Night and Day and Flutes. All stormers. “I only wanna be your life stand” made me think of the aforementioned couples, giddy with love. Hot Chip showed their range by finishing with Sabotage. A minority rolled their eyes — most of us our eyes rolled our eyes into the back of our heads.

PIXIES
The Massachusetts veterans split the crowd. “Ugh, it’s like 20 per cent dads out there,” said a girl in Eric’s Bar, disgusted. (Kim) Deal. With. It. Half thought they went for too long, half could have heard another halfa of Frank Black and his charges. Pixies began with Gouge Away and played another 20 songs with remarkable, grey-sweat-on-creased-brow conviction. Where Is My Mind, Gigantic and a cover of Jesus and Mary Chain’s Head On. Plenty lost their voices screaming “Debaaaaser.” Totally worth it. Seeing them did that dovetail thing, taking me back to being a 17 year old Jim Carrey obsessed goofball, drinking Baileys ‘n’ milk for the first time with my mate’s cool older sisters in Narre Warren as we sang “And Gahhhhhd is seven!” Their mum was spruiking Amway in the next room.
Update: Pixies have cancelled the rest of their Australian tour “due to COVID-19 concerns.” Read: they’re heading home to sell start a pyramid scheme.

PREQUEL
What a graduation. Melbourne’s biggest Seinfeld fan dyed his hair white and came in white-hot with dancers either side, bespoke visuals by Rhys Newling, a sharp ear and a jacking, jacked torso. He ripped out Dimitri From Paris and Dan Shake then went hip hop with Gossip Folks by Missy Elliott and OutKast’s SpottieOttieDopaliscious. Violinist Tamil Rogeon aka Jacques Nicholson played The Sup’ for a (record?) fifth time with a surprise accompaniment of Shapeshifters’ Lola’s Theme and a hot, flailing finale of Armand Van Helden’s You Don’t Know Me. He even gave the crowd Henny.

FLOORPLAN
“This is exactly the sort of house music I love, swinging and slamming,” quipped Jacques Nicholson post strings sesh. Vehement agreeance. I was front left flying solo YOLO for the father daughter Detroit duo, Robert and Lyric Hood. Dads just wanna have fun. I dance so hard that a. my feet are still bruised; b. I hope that “Ugh” girl saw me. “When they finished with gospel, I was ready to go to church,” said another pal.

DJ SPRINKLES
Sometimes DJs make up their minds well before their set what they’ll play. This was the case on Monday morning when NY jock Terre Thaemlitz took the reins at 4am and disseminated 20 minutes of dreamscapey seeds that didn’t germinate. Sprinkles runs the Comatonse Recordings Label and “More like Comatose” jokes started flying around. Towards 5am they’d established a more smoky, deep house vibe. Too late. The DF was notably smaller than it usually is in the wee hours; a missed opportunity by Sprinkles to pick up where Floorplan had left off.

Pixies’ Frank Black at Golden Plains 2020 by Suzanne Phoenix

Crowd shot at Golden Plains 2020 by Suzanne Phoenix

INTERSTITIAL DJS
Getting this gig is similar to when comedians are tapped for The Gala at The Palais in St Kilda. Much respect was shown to Andy Weatherall (RIP); Chico G spun his St Etienne remix of Only Love Can Break Your Heart and Noise In My Head dropped Loaded by Primal Scream. Trickybaby slotted in Booze Bust by Bloody Hammer.
Milo Eastwood went at it like a mad conductor. He buttered us up with Gene Wilder’s Pure Imagination, U-Bahn’s Turbulent Love, Kylie’s I Believe In You and – plot-twist – Spanish Flea. Then when it was “go time” he kicked outta the blocks after Hot Chip with SHOUSE’s Love Tonight and Eric Prydz vs Pink Floyd’s Proper Education. It’s all coming back to you now.

OVERHEARD
“Is that shorthand?” (mate points to my notes. Answer: no)

“Sorry, my booty is taking a call right now.”

“I’m with you in spirits, Jameson and Fireball.”

“Last night was a sacre blur.”

“Are you writing review of Golden Plains for Yelp?”

“I’m feeling horngry: horny and hungry.”

“The best thing about this set is the Margaritas.” (during Agung Mango’s set. Your scribe concurred.)

“I had to get splinter a day removed. So rock’n’roll.”

“Your language is more colourful than the Tullamarine ribcage.”

“I’m claiming this, sorry, these pink flamingoes.”

“I’m not a racist …. but Mwanje looks like Sampa, yeah (gulp)?”
”(deadpan) They’re sisters.”

“General Levy is our Ragga Vaccinator.”

“Do you know how many kids Joe Camilleri has? Lots.”
“He is a sax machine.”

“I’d like to be removed from this group chat.”

“Showers are my new secret weapon at Golden Plains.”
“You do know they’ve always been here.”

Joe Camilleri at Golden Plains 2020 by Suzanne Phoenix

BEST NUMBER PLATE
“BNGRS”

THINGS ON STICKS
Toilet paper, single roll.

Toilet paper, 12 pack.

“Hello, you seem to be munted, can I help?” sign

Pool noodles.

Animal from Muppets.

“Wash your hand, you detty pig.” (Picture of Eric Effiong from Sex Education)

Toilet Paper Roll on Stick by Suzanne Phoenix

BEST TOILET
Area 51 dunny with “I Want To Believe” posters, yellow and black “Radioactive material” tape and a sign: “Deadly farts permitted.” Special mention: Twin Peaks themed toilet.

WORST TOILET
Somebody on the last night mistook a South Pines picnic chair for a WC. Yes, number twos. Dick(head) move.

CLEAN-UP SONG
Rock the Kasbah by The Clash.

Colonel Sanders likes classic metal. Picture by Ben Lewis

FASHIONS ON THE FIELD
Colonel Sanders’ doppelganger (above) with a faux metal T-shirt of composers names: Mozart, Chopin, Liszt.

Banana socks discovered by its owner when he held up The Boot during Bananagun.

Sick Sad World T-shirt. Shout out to Daria.

Hickey on a birthday girl’s neck.

Pom Pom Suits.

Crochet overalls #grannysquaresrule

Gold-sprinkled moustaches.

Cat’s ears replaced Unicorns for most common headwear.

Pizza Shapes jacket and matching BBQ Shapes jacket.

Wascally Wabbit at Golden Plains 2020 by Ben Lewis

Hot Chip at Golden Plains 2020 by Steve Benn

Thanks Woody, Aunty Meredith, DC, The Nolan Family, Ang Henley and Naomi Lee Beveridge.
Thanks to the photographers Steve Benn, Suzanne Phoenix, Ben Fletcher and Ben Lewis.
I remain your humble servant and Meredith stenographer,
Mikey
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@joeylightbulb