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.

Cold War Kids @ The Palace - 06/08/2008

When I got home on Tuesday night from my huge Byron Bay adventure, I looked at my ticket for Cold War Kids at The Palace and wondered how it would differ from watching them from a festival crowd - a much bigger, drunker, more enthusiastic crowd. It's been said by fans and bands alike that Melbourne punters tend to just cross their arms and watch, examining every chord and movement to make sure it's okay to enjoy what they're seeing. Or, and I know this is common everywhere, they will watch the entire set through the screens of their phones or compact cameras. I had to really prepare myself for this gig; I'd enjoyed the band so much at Splendour in the Grass and didn't want to ruin my memory of seeing them live.

I left late on Wednesday evening. I was still so very scattered from my trip, I didn't have the energy to stand through a support act. I didn't even get the obligatory bourbon and coke I usually get as soon as I've had my ticket checked. I was there on a mission - to see the band, try to ignore the audience and go home to some much needed sleep. The venue was packed but I managed to get a spot on the left set of stairs, above the mass of people who had gathered in front of the stage. I watched in anticipation as everything was being set up - guitars were tuned, roadies made awkward noises into microphones. A big banner covered the back of the stage with lyrics printed on it, and one of the crew scurried across the stage to put an empty wine bottle with a candle in it on Nathan's piano. This happened at Splendour too, I'm still not sure what the deal is there but it gives an element of mystery to Mr. Willett, on whom I already have a fast-developing crush (especially after seeing what's hidden under his shirt). There was definitely a flatter atmosphere this time around but when the band came out, I instantly forgot about it. Again I was reeled in by those soulful vocals, the erratic movements of the band and the dim lighting perfectly complimenting the style of the band.

Hang Me Up To Dry was a highlight and the most appreciated song by the the crowd, but for me the stand-out moment was Hospital Beds again. There is just something so heartfelt about that song, it gets me every time. Robbers was another interesting one, but for a different reason. Before the song started, Nathan explained how much their fans meant to them, and that the show shouldn’t be all about them. The stage lights were then turned off, and Nathan and one of the Matts shone torches into the crowd, moving them slowly over the faces of their fans in between playing their parts of the song. The cheering seemed to follow the light, getting considerably louder in parts as the torches swept over that section of the venue. Obviously the band either have the kind of modesty or the charisma that allows them to pull this kind of move off, as it was received well. I however found myself frustrated. It could have been an absolutely gorgeous moment; the softness of the song combined with the amber light sweeping slowly over the crowd had the power to perfect the atmosphere - if it wasn't for all the ignorant people there. It could have been an intimate moment between band and fans, a chance for the artist to connect with the people who have gotten them where they are - both the intention and the opportunity to do this is a rare thing these days. But instead the room was instantly filled with little LCD screens, flashes were going off which completely destroyed the chances of having the band appear to be playing from nowhere, conversations between friends seemed so much louder and were harder to ignore - one girl even had her back to the stage, turning around once, only to contribute one more irritating burst of blinding light towards to the stage. Looking around, it seemed 50% of the people were glued to the stage (as they should have been), and the other 50% were just so undeserving of what the band were doing for them. It was really disappointing to see, but I tried so hard to just appreciate what Cold War Kids were trying to create for us. I left before the encore, thinking it couldn't possibly be one of my favourites; it seemed they had played them all. About fifteen minutes before I got home I realised it would have been Saint John. I'm still kicking myself for that, but aside from that and the enormous legion of unappreciative idiots, I was satisfied.

BYRON BAY - DAY FIVE/SIX

Caz left on Day Five after a very stressful wait for the bus, and I explored the town, it was absolutely gorgeous. I had a psychic reading done which was absolutely mind-blowing, did some shopping and spend some time soaking up the sun at the beach and taking pictures.

I shared some mugs of wine with some Sydney girls on my last night at the hostel, while watching The Hurricane and Knocked Up (both good movies) and then went to bed. On Day Six I was woken from a nap by an irishman who was taking one of the three spare bunks I had. He was nice but I couldn't understand him very well.

I left on the evening of Day Six feeling like a million dollars. I felt like a new person, no holiday has ever done that to me. You know what? It's not something I care to share on a blog. It's something that is going to stay in my heart until the day I die, the whole trip. I am doing it again next year - bigger and better.

BYRON BAY - DAY FOUR

Day 4
Sunday, August 2nd 2008

Splendour in the Grass: Day Two

There was a Day Two? I only remember Cold War Kids. Har har har. Day Two was a slow starter. Caz left early but was sent back as she got busted with her SLR. Not only that, she had to delete the photos she got, talk about strict. We lazed around in the hostel for a bit, talking about all things music and photography, and spending time in hammocks watching drunken guys yell at each other and then DRIVE off. Fairly late into the afternoon decided we should probably go. We got the bus into town, then another bus to the festival. I think it was at this point that I started to fall in love with Byron Bay. I guess it was just because of the festival but the town was crawling with young hippie/surfie types, people were dancing on the road to no music, calling out to each other from cars, it was something I wanted to get used to – I’ve wished life could be like a music festival ever since my first Big Day Out when I was thirteen. Even though the infestation of moles is quite obvious now, it’s still a really beautiful thing. There’s not much else that brings people together in such a positive way. Okay, I’m sounding like a hippie. The Wombats were first up for our 2nd day of Splendour, so Caz rushed to the front of the main stage, but after the first day’s effort I could not do it. I decided to have a wander around and get some photos, even though I only had my compact (which I later grew to despise). Splendour was really well set up, it was easy to get stage to stage and there were hidden treasures everywhere. My favourite was the “Church of Two Hands and a Chicken”. We watched a gay marriage there the day before, but on Day Two it featured a (rather old) stripper. I did some more wandering around and witnessed what could have been the best thing I’d seen as far as the punters went – a girl in a really jazzy dress and a tonne of make up walked past and a fairly drunk guy yelled “We’re at a music festival!”, pretty much in her face. He then gave a very loud, frustrated grunt as she just gave him a death stare and kept walking. I wish I shook his hand! After more wandering and observing I decided to get a drink. Good thing I did too, because it gave me the guts and energy to run up to Daniel Boud and ask him to sign my map for Caz. Yeah, she’s a bit of a fan of the Dan! It was awkward asking a photographer for an autograph, I was the first to ever ask him which doesn’t surprise me but he was such a nice dude. We had a great chat about nerdy things like how every photographer seemed to be using a Canon, sucky camera rules and Flickr. He was so bloody nice, I felt a little guilty while talking to him, because I’ve spent so much time on his website going “I hate him, I hate him, I hate him”. After our brief chat I’ve decided he deserves everything he’s done. Anyway, I drank a few more and rushed over to Caz who was planted firmly in the front row amongst the rowdy crowd. The floor under the big top of the main stage was now muddy, which I can only put down to spilt alcohol. God I love festivals. Time passed, I did some more wandering around soaking it all up, and ate a very soggy roast beef roll (not sure how I managed to stomach it, in hindsight). I remembered that stuffed away in my little green bag was a pass to some “Guest Bar” thing. Said “Guest Bar” thing ended up being a very nicely decked out VIP area (we were supposed to get media passes but didn’t, I guess we were compensated with these passes). We had our own toilets, bar and restaurant the entire time. We didn’t know. Ha! I got a snazzy little wristband with bunnies on it, then I weed in a reasonably clean toilet and barely even waited to buy a drink. The VIP area was so incredibly cool, there were pine trees inside the tent with stuffed owls perched on the branches, pretty green lights illuminating everything, lots of outdoor heaters and chairs... Really wish we knew about it sooner. I saw a bunch of people from bands and tried my hardest to look cool, I probably failed though, I was well drunk by this point.
Oh, bands played - Sigur Ros! They were absolutely magical. Then there were other bands I didn't see, can't remember, don't care. I took a snap of myself with Darren Cross (of Gerling/E.L.F) and I think it pissed him off, but I was a massive Gerling nerd as a teenager so I had to do it. Sorry Daz!

Carole eventually joined me and we sat in the cold and talked, talked, talked. A random Scottish guy (completely forgotten his name) and his friend who introduced himself as Healesy joined us. Scottish boy claimed to be a school-mate of “Joe Joe” from Wolfmother. They eventually confessed they’d met in the line for the toilet, and jumped the fence into the VIP area. They were hilarious. We stood near Paul Dempsey for quite some time and managed to get him in a photo, which still makes me laugh! Met the guys from JJJ breakfast which was way cool because I've been such a long-time listener, I felt a little starstruck standing next to Robbie Buck.
We heard Wolfmother finish (god, I wish I knew it was going to be their last time) and it was over. Splendour in the Grass 2008, over! We were all ushered out of the VIP area and what was our final memory of the festival? The singer from Operator Please scoffing “Yeah, these people aren’t invited to the after-party.” Mmm, great move. Say that in earshot of the media. I hope the VIP party was a blast, and you didn’t run out of red cordial too early.

We chose the bus this time, and after a long wait we were dropped into town where I immediately bought a kebab. We reflected on the amazing VIP experience and talked about Caz’s magazine ideas, and more about how awesome photography is (a very popular topic with us). We were at the hostel before 1am, and we then got our laptops, got into the hammocks and attempted to write while swinging in the freezing night air. As much as I didn’t want the festival to come to an official end, my fingers soon became too numb to type and I was forced to go to bed.

BYRON BAY - DAY THREE

Day 3
Saturday August 1st 2008

Splendour in the Grass: Day One

It's 11am. Waiting for Carole to get here. Everyone’s just about ready to go, I think the girls here are wearing roughly an entire Maybelline factory worth of make up between them. I don’t quite understand the need for foundation, powder, blush, 3 different eye shadows, mascara, eyeliner, lip-gloss and half a bottle of perfume (each) for a music festival. All you need is a good pair of shoes and a love for music, but hey it’s not about that anymore... Caz just got here! End transmission!

And now I shall change the tense of my write-up again, as my writing is horrible and unstructured but I am lazy and won’t be editing this much.

Once we had been wrist-banded and did a bit of an “OMG WE’RE AT SPLENDOUR” dance, we headed straight to the main stage to catch The Galvatrons, energetic as they were entertaining, as always. A very nice warm-up indeed. Next up we rushed over to the Mix Up Tent for Sydney-siders bluejuice. Frontman Jake was leaping and bouncing around the stage, singing and screaming so hard it looked like something was going to pop, grinning ear-to-ear the whole time... he was in full form despite his left arm and leg both in a cast. Swiftly leaping from the stage to the photo-pit, from there into the crowd, then back into the arms of one of the security guards. If I wasn't happy to be at Splendour before, I was after watching those guys do their thing!
With a bit of a gap between acts we wandered around the festival site trying to get our bearings... Checked out the markets and tasty food stalls. After a bit of a rest in preparation, then began the 3 and a half hour wait for the band I went to see... I planted myself in the front row of the main stage and watched Gyroscope rocking the now well and truly enthusiastic crowd. Next up were The Fratellis and the audience was getting rowdy, my Splendour-mate and I now pressed firmly into the cold metal of the barrier. The Fratellis were quite disappointing, they got a good response but with such catchy riffs I expected more than just three guys playing their instruments. When the band finished the crowd got rougher, everyone so eager to get closer and closer. Cold War Kids finally graced the stage and I couldn’t have been more excited to see them. They busted out with We Used to Vacation and ran through all the highlights off their album Robbers & Cowards, along with some tasty new songs including their latest single Something is not Right With Me. Vocalist Nathan Willett hung off his microphone belting out that amazing and rare voice and I was just gob-smacked. The guitarist and bassist of the band paced around the stage, screaming the lyrics in eachothers faces, it was intense. Apparently during Hospital Beds, somewhere in between me yelling “Bring your buckets by the dozen” and “Bring your nieces and your cousins” a bouncer stood on my bag which had my pride and joy (camera) in it, but I was so mesmerised that I didn’t even care - this is a BIG deal. Their set ended with Saint John, I could not have possibly been more satisfied. Caz & I finally broke free from the sardine tin that was the main-stage audience. We intended on seeing Band of Horses but got a bit lost. I ate an awesome vegie burger. Caz being the trooper she is wanted to get up close for Polyphonic Spree, but I was too desperate to sit down and relieve my feet of the stinging agony they were in. I’d run out of cigarettes much to my dismay (I smoke a lot when I’m at festivals). I realised how freezing it had gotten, so I bought a “cosy blanket” from a market stall. I then wandered around feeling like an old crazy woman wrapped in my fuzzy new blanket, seeking out people with cigarettes. Some would call that a low point.
Polyphonic Spree came so close to topping what I had just witnessed during Cold War Kids’ set. I think if I was any less of a CWK fan they would’ve knocked them straight out of first position. A giant red sash covered the stage during all the setting up and sound checking, lead singer Tim DeLaughter then cut a heart into it while music played softly, before slashing it apart, at which point the fabric flung to either side of the stage, everything lit up and the band all broke into song. I stood there stunned, and forgot about the fact I’d run out of ciggies and I needed a foot transplant. The fans went wild, and did not calm down until the set had well and truly ended (which was much later than expected). I’ll admit I don’t know a lot of their stuff but I don’t think even the coldest of hearts could resist them. They treated fans to a cover of Live and Let Die by Guns ‘n’ Roses, and then Lithium by Nirvana which had every single person in that tent jumping up and down, arms flung in the air, belting out “I’m not gonna crack”. Talk about uniting thousands of people! I don’t think there was anyone there who didn’t know every single word. Finally the end of the song came and as the final “crack” was shouted by all, a disco ball was thrown from the stage which of course “cracked” into a thousand pieces. Amazing. There was such an indescribable energy in the air during their set, I found a chair near the stage (strange, very strange) and sat there huddle up with my new blanket and just watched in awe. I couldn’t see much of the stage but I didn’t need to, watching the crowd was just as entertaining. I glanced over every now and then to see a blur of white robes, but my attention was on these people, dancing, united, it was absolutely captivating. It was so cold that everyone on stage and in the audience was breathing clouds of frost into the air, which changed colours with the lights... the bubble machine was turned on during Reach for the Sun and little rainbow bubbles mixed in with the neon frost that hovered over the bouncing audience... even the big scary security guard had his hands in the air, clapping and cheering along, thick frost pouring from his mouth. A man with a big balloon shaped like a ladybug attached to his backpack strolled in casually but soon found himself caught up in the atmosphere dancing away. Grown men in ponchos and masks made friends with strangers, girls danced on wheelie bins, it was dream-like. Mix in DeLaughter's words of love and I knew it was something I'd never forget. Every negative thing I have ever felt or thought was gently lifted from my body. Writing this over two weeks later, it’s still so fresh in my mind and I still feel so lucky to have been there for that.

At the end of the night we began the painful walk out of the exit gates, among our fellow Splendour-goers (many of whom were carrying large chunks of disco ball), past what we thought was an unreasonably long line to the buses, and then walked about 86 million miles back the hostel. It was a pretty funny walk, we were both in agony from our 4+ hour stint at the main stage but it had been such a good day, even if my face showed nothing but pain, I was so god damn happy! There were hundreds of people shivering and groaning while staggering down this seemingly never-ending road, guys selling pizza on the side of the road, a sausage sizzle... and of course, public urination... When we spotted a servo I felt my pain suddenly lift as I realised I could buy cigarettes. We also saw The Doctor from Triple J, that was exciting. We got a bit lost, then after we passed the "face tree" and the footpath ran out, we were home. Falling into bed was heaven, but my ears were ringing in a whole new scary way.

BYRON BAY - DAY TWO

Day 2
Friday August 1st 2008

3:54pm
I woke up at about 10am with nothing but food on my mind. I didn’t get around to eating dinner the night before. I staggered to the door and opened it, bracing myself for the icy cold air I usually wake up to in Melbourne. IT WAS WARM! First thing in the morning and I’m greeted with sweet, warm air – it smelt like flowers and incense and the sun on my face was the most wonderful thing. My spirits were immediately lifted. I walked down to Mac’s Milk Bar & Cafe and had the best toasted sandwich I’ve experienced in quite some time... It was worth the $5.60 I paid for it. I then got an hour on the internet to upload the Spod/’Gurge photos, but the first thing I did was email some people from home (I’m talking like I’m overseas, I know) as I was getting quite desperate for any sort of communication at this point. I then went and had a nap, took some photos of the hostel and surroundings, and went and got a coffee at Mac’s. And that brings me to the present – sitting cross-legged on my bed, writing about the trip so far! I am considering having a cigarette, or maybe having another nap. I am actually kinda bored, but I'm trying to remember that it's always a long time between holidays...

5:30pm
GOOD SHOWER. I got the bus to the town centre which was absolutely hectic, no one over the age of thirty, everyone with arms full of snacks and alcohol... cars and mini-vans everywhere... Let the mayhem begin, kiddies. This is a great experience, even though I’m still all by myself. It’s officially been twenty-four hours. I swear these girls better get here soon, I no longer care what they’re like, I am desperate for even small-talk... I am now sitting on the floor of the dorm room with a can of bourbon which I really needed after the trip to the town. The bus driver was drinking, possibly drunk, and my fellow bus-mates were four girls, either under-age or just 18. They seemed to be battling it out for who could squeal the loudest or say the dumbest thing. Said surly bus driver was trying to scare them as much as possible, slamming on his brakes constantly and the like. Oh god, the screaming. Worse than the people on the plane, easy.
The weather is still perfect. It’s getting dark, but it’s so warm! I can’t imagine what summer would be like if winter is this glorious.

9:45pm
I am on my last bourbon, bit drunk. After a bit of quiet time feeling sorry for myself, I went and joined in at the BBQ. I made friends with some lovely girls from NSW/Adelaide/Perth... they were as annoyed by the squealy skanks as me. Turns out they are 16-17. Had some good times, then I got a phone call from Liz and when I came back everyone was gone. The two girls still aren’t here, so I am yet again in the room by myself bored out of my witts. I tried watching some TV but the only other guy in the common room was way too into SBS news, I couldn’t stay in there, the king of Tonga isn’t all that interesting. Some random in a flappy beanie came in and laughed about how overjoyed the scientists were about finding water on Mars then wandered out again. An Irish girl is playing a customised version of pool with a biker’s small son. I suspect I should sleep and declare this boring day OVER. These makeshift blog entries are getting more and more boring.

BYRON BAY - DAY ONE

okay. it's time to write about my byron bay adventures. I make no apologies for spelling mistakes or anything of the sort. It's all going to be rushed and I will go off on tangents... I am posting one photo per entry, not necessarily the best one - just the one that brings back the best memories.

For all of my photos from the trip, go here:
www.flickr.com/photos/nadia-louise/sets

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Day 1
Thursday July 31st 2008

I was beginning to think the time to leave for the Splendour Adventure would never come! I woke up stupidly early after a late night shooting Spod and Regurgitator at the East Brunswick Club (for the record, it was amazing). I went to work for five hours (I may or may not have had a power nap on the loo) and then rushed back home to finish throwing crap into bags and frantically charging an array of different batteries for things. I shot out the door at 3pm, almost forgetting my boarding pass. After a quick stop to Subway I was on my way to the airport. I say this every time, but man, I love the airport. My step-dad who drove me put it perfectly... even if you’re not going anywhere; the exciting buzz in the air is so infectious. After I finally checked in, I went outside for one last pre-flight cigarette with Steve and a woman dropped a bottle of wine mere centimetres from my feet. Red liquid splashed everywhere, as did shards of glass. It scared the crap out of me but I decided that spilt alcohol is a good omen. Last time I flew was when I was going to Tasmania to shoot the Falls Festival, and just before landing I managed to get myself drenched in bourbon. I had the best weekend of my life, so I decided then and there, that this mess of wine and glass could only be a good sign. While waiting at the gates for boarding, I observed the crowd and about 80% of the people waiting were definitely going to Splendour. Unwashed hair, deliberately unfashionable attire, they were festival goers. Steve and I passed the time by making up stories about all of them. When I boarded I suddenly felt sick with nerves, I was going to an unfamiliar place, on my own, at night. I felt pretty average before we even took off. I then realised I’d been seated next to a group of Barbie and Ken dolls, who had clearly jumped on the bandwagon of going to festivals despite not really listening to any of the bands. I spied on one of the girls flicking through her iPod and wanted to smother her with my neck pillow when I saw her go past Cold War Kids to Craig David. Then further down the menu – TLC. What are these people doing?! They were all orange skinned, with white hair, and chewing their gum in a manner that would make your typical barnyard animal seem worthy for lunch with the queen. The girls clucked together the entire flight, comparing jeans and loudly talking about what bands they were going to see, obviously hoping to impress the people seated around them – Scribe, The Fratellis, “British India for suuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuure, they go off!”... While the guys were just laughing dopily about funny stuff that happened after too many VBs. I don’t understand these people. I’ve always had an observant nature, I am a terrific judge of character and there’s not many people I don’t get. But these metro types with their ugly Supre outfits and over-bleached hair who are infesting music events? I have blamed the media for so long, when I reluctantly flick through girly magazines at the hairdressers, I literally always cringe when I get to the section where they review CDs, or list gigs you “totally HAVE to” get to... They’re always the CDs or events that I go to. To enjoy the music, to absorb the atmosphere, and in recent months, to capture it all on my camera. Why is it fashionable? More importantly, why won’t it go away? I missed out on tickets to the Falls Festival when Modest Mouse played, and I cried. I actually cried. That’s how much of a fucking music nerd I am, and I didn't get to go. Why? Well... I was talking to a co-worker one night at the pub the following January, and when she told me she went to the festival, I immediately asked how MM were. Her response of course, was “Who? Oh I didn’t really watch any of the bands”. Okay. I’m sure there are occasions out there where people just get drunk, eat dodgy food and “experiment”. Why do they have to choose to do it at the big festivals, the ones with the best bands playing? Why do they have to aid in the tickets selling out in the first day? ORANGE PEOPLE, GET OFF MY TURF.
Wow, that got off topic... where was I? Oh yeah, worst flight ever. I planned on editing photos during the flight but Ken in front of me was so restless in his seat that he was just knocking my laptop around, so I gave up. I couldn’t sleep, I just tried with all my might not to listen to the moronic conversations going on. But of course I eavesdropped for the rest of the flight – I seem to enjoy upsetting myself. It’s the same at work when they have the radio on, I listen intently to every word the radio announcer is saying so that when they say something stupid (approximately every few seconds that they're speaking) I can whinge about why they’re stupid. Oh, off topic again.
Then began the ride from the airport to the hostel. I had spent the wait at the bus stop praying with everything I had that the walking Fanta bottles weren’t getting on the same bus, or staying at the same place as me. They weren’t, but I did have to listen to some girls from Carlton pretentiously talk about their lives and I found myself just as frustrated as I was on the plane. I NEED AN MP3 PLAYER. I think I would’ve strangled someone for an mp3 player, or earmuffs, or some knitting needles to shove into my eardrums. By this point I had spoken about one sentence in three hours, I had done nothing but listen to assholes rattle on about absolute shit, and I feared for my sanity. I’m not a talkative person, but I do get lonely quite easily. My Splendour buddy, Carole, wasn’t due to arrive until Saturday morning. I decided at that point never to travel alone again – not even to go to Splendour with free tickets, it didn't seem to balance out.

I eventually got to the hostel and checked in. I didn’t get to suss the place out much because it was so bloody dark, but the room was as I had expected – a little box with a bunk bed on either side. The walls were brick, painted yellow . There was a little bar fridge and a mirror in the corner, and a window facing the common room with curtains that didn’t fully close. The door was broken too and I had four cameras and a laptop with me... I liked it though. It was so quiet that night, the walls of the rooms were paper thin but I couldn't hear a thing. I didn't put music on, I just enjoyed the silence and I spent the night finally editing the photos from the gig on Wednesday, and then had what was possibly the greatest sleep of my life. I had a dream that I won an award for something, I wish I could remember what.