Homebake 08

Shooting Homebake was a matter of sheer endurance. After a somewhat frantic drive to the airport I arrived in a very humid Sydney, well into the evening. I met up with my comrade and spent the next 4-5 hours polishing off a bottle of bourbon while watching Rage and talking music/cameras/media/all the good stuff. I collapsed into my bed at about 3:30am, everything started to spin and I swiftly yet so clumsily clambered out of the door at about 3:35am to bring up what was a KFC dinner many hours ago. I woke up five hours later with a splitting headache and a familiar taste in my mouth, something I thought was dead and buried - the fiercest of hangovers. I forced down a breakfast of hash browns, bacon and eggs, but it threatened to come up the entire morning. We got a cab into the CBD (the cabbie's style of driving pretty much doubled my nausea) where I had to buy a new memory card for the D3 I'd hired, because just my luck, the one they provided was corrupted somehow. $120 later we were back in a taxi to Homebake., with me still trying to hold down my breakfast The cab driver didn't know what the Domain was, but he got us there by some miracle. We walked up hills in the blistering sun - 34°C at 11:00am! And I continued to dry reach while lugging my 5-6kg of camera gear. We got to the queue which was the longest I've since in some time, and I had a bit of a sit down while James the legend went and figured out what we were doing. It was at this point two minor birds flew overhead and one of them was kind enough to shit on my jeans. And it was at this point I started to wonder what I'd done to piss Karma off. We eventually got our passes and were through the gates. One of the best things about being on the media list is no queues. There is no way in hell I could've managed that. I immediately went and vomited in the portaloos, it was probably about 45°C in there - not a pleasant experience. I thought the worst was over with but by the time I put my cameras together, took a few snaps of the E.L.F and walked from one side of the site to another - I had to go to St Johns. Desperate for some kind of cure, I told them I was just hot and dehydrated and hoped I wouldn't have to admit to the previous night of self-abuse. They gave me water, shade, ice and the benefit of the doubt, but I had to come clean. They gave me no choice but to force down a hot dog and a litre of water and be on my way. I did feel a little more alive, and that pink slip was a nice souvenir for the scrapbook. I gathered my strength and promised myself I would successfully get through the day, and hopefully have a few nice photos to boot.

First up was Eddy Current Suppression Ring, delivering the goods as always. The D3 and 70-200mm f2.8 combo was a bit too much for my barely-recovered body to handle, but I got some okay shots. I went straight back to VIP to sit in the shade and feel sorry for myself until bluejuice were due to take the stage. When they did, we were given one and a half songs to shoot them. Harsh. On my way back out of the pit, I saw something incredible. An enigma, a legend, something I'd only seen in pictures. Tony Mott was standing side-stage with a D3, snapping away. I freaked out and took a quick photo before texting anyone who would care. I went back to VIP and when I came out the venue was absolutely packed with people. I tried to shoot Little Red, but the Dome stage was so crowded I couldn't get through to the photo pit entrance without smacking people, and it had taken me so long to get in the vicinity of the stage that I missed the first three songs anyway. I saw a few seconds of their set and was surprised by their stage presence, but there was no time to enjoy it, I had lost James and needed to visit my new buddies at St Johns as my head was pounding again. I went back to VIP and ran into a photographer I knew from home, Zo. I sat with her for a while and was soon joined by Daniel Boud, one of my most respected photographers. He remembered me from our little encounter at Splendour (when I ran up to him in a terribly drunken stupor and got him to sign my map for Carole) so that was lovely. I smoked my last cigarette and then realised I couldn’t get any more and I had about seven hours to go. Idiot.

Next was The Getaway Plan. Too much hair and too many screaming teenage girls. I couldn't stay for long anyway, End of Fashion were about to start back at the Dome. Thankfully the area had cleared out a bit and it was a breeze. I was going to shoot British India afterwards, but instead found a shady spot with Zo. We were joined by Dan again and we had a bit of a time-out. After grabbing some festy festival food (I went for the Mongolian Beef - why do I always eat stuff I'd never eat at home when I'm at these things?!) it was time for Died Pretty. I really wanted them to pull a big crowd, but as James said, they seemed to get everyone mid-meal. My parents won an album of theirs back in the early 90s and played it so much I think I still know it word-for-word, so they are quite sentimental to me. It was a really big deal to be seeing them, and taking pictures of them. It was a shame I couldn't stick around, but Karnivool were preparing to hit the Main Stage.

I went back to VIP for a little breather, and while I was standing around doing nothing in particular, he walked past. Tony Mott. Now, normally when I see someone famous (he's a superstar in my eyes) I freak out and hesitate and never say anything to them. When I was 12-13, I used to buy stacks of music magazines and I'd flick through the pages, and at the bottom of just about every photo I'd see his name there. I remember wondering who he was, why he got to shoot all the big rock stars, what it must be like to have his job. I have had this enormous respect for him since, it might be silly to still have an idol at age twenty three but he will always be just that. There he was. Ten years later, right in front of me. I immediately yelled "TONY!", he turned around and looked a little confused at first but I explained that he didn't know me, I'm just a big fan, he signed a book for me, wanted to thank him in person, yadda yadda yadda… and I may have told him he's the reason I first bought a camera. It just kind of came out, I don’t even remember thinking it. I was immediately embarrassed, but he was so nice, just giving me a "Is that right?" and a friendly smile. He asked how my day was and I told him I was "a bit hungover", his response being "You'll be right mate, it's all part of it!" with a big smile. He is a man who loves his work. He had to go, and I stood there, my hands trembling as I fumbled around for my phone to tell someone. My phone didn't make it though, the battery died. I was numb to all my bad luck at this point so I just shoved it in my bag and headed off to the main stage for Karnivool.

After an unexplained but very cool performance by a group of Maoris and a group of Aboriginals, Karnivool exploded onto the stage delivering a nice loud set. I got some of my favourite photos of the day. Tony was shooting side-stage again, and I kept peering up at him. I couldn't quite believe my eyes. I wanted to stand there and admire him forever but I had to go back to the Dome for the moment James had been pining for all day - Gabriella Cilmi's performance. I felt sorry for the girl; the crowd was a mix of squealing teenage girls, teenage boys with dirty mouths and a large percentage of punters booing. She looked kind of awkward, strutting nervously across the stage in silver pants, and things did not improve when she thought it fitting to bust out her cover of a Justin Timberlake song.

Next on the shabby, crinkled and torn bit of paper that I called a timetable was Pnau. I didn't know what to expect, besides something "colourful". What I got was something beyond colourful. Throughout their set, the stage was a mess of dancing strawberries, love hearts and alien-like creatures, the singer was suspended in the air, swinging back and forth wearing a sort of Native-American-meets-drag-queen outfit, while pulling out jerky dance moves and flips, singing/screaming/shouting "Wild Strawberries" which was sung/screamed/shouted back at him. The whole experience was something that can only compare to Polyphonic Spree's performance at Splendour in the Grass. It was sensory overload, but in the best possible way. When we finally managed to pry ourselves away from the magic, we headed back to VIP and I hesitantly indulged in some more alcohol. It went down a treat in the end, and then it was suddenly five minutes until Sneaky Sound System were due on stage.

SSS are just a bit too pop for my liking but they were a lot of fun to shoot. Nice lighting, nice outfits, and a diamond microphone. I again got some shots I'm proud of, and I got to stand next to Tony Mott and our arms touched, and it made me giddy. My memory card was now full, luckily just before You Am I, Zo was an absolute darling and gave me one of her 2GB cards. What a wonderful lady. Tony was in the pit again for You Am I, and everything just got kind of surreal. I don't listen to You Am I but when a band has been around for almost my entire life, I gotta respect them. I was at Homebake, in Sydney, Tim Rogers in front of me, Tony Mott behind me, a Nikon D3 in my hand, I am still struggling to believe that it actually happened. I had a bit of trouble with the lighting but my shots were okay.

I love Cut Copy but by the time their set rolled around, I was really feeling the extent of my sunburn/exhaustion and the lighting sucked.

And with that, it was time for the closing act, the headliner, Crowded House. I never got into them, but again, much respect – and I do find some of their songs irresistible. Shooting them was a real honour but I found it quite underwhelming and the only thing that made me want to stay in the photo pit was a certain someone's presence. I got my shots, pushed through the thousands of people singing, drinking, pashing, play-fighting... Packed up my gear, and we were off to hail a taxi.

The plan was to stay up until 4:30 when we had to be in a cab to the airport, but the plan was kind of ruined the night before when we poured the last drop of the Beam. James passed out at midnight so I went to wash my festival feet (the two black lines where the rubber bits of my thongs were, gotta love it) before passing out myself.

Sunday was just strange.
04:00– Woke up, called for a taxi
04:30 – Taxi arrives
05:00 – Arrive at airport
06:00 – Plane leaves
07:30 – Arrive at Avalon
08:30 – Breakfast on the beach
10:00 – Nap
11:00 – Photos, photos, photos
15:00 – Nap
17:00 – Photos, photos, photos
02:30 – Sleep

I stayed asleep until about 1pm on Monday afternoon. Returned the D3, learnt that cameras are going up 30% on the 1st of January, so I’m now in a bit of a panic to get a D700 on lay-buy! Yum.

All in all, it was hilariously bad, amazingly fun, a little bit surreal and fucking exhausting.