Historically, Laneway Festival has managed to neatly sidestep most controversies. It has a carefully-curated reputation as a chilled day out, and its punters are significantly less quarrelsome than those that descend upon Splendour In The Grass, for example, or Harbourside.
However this year, though the crowd might have been as respectful and jolly as ever, the only real source of friction came from the artists. Or, maybe that should be artist. Having been unceremoniously booted from the festival for allegedly flashing a bunch of photographers, Kirin J. Callinan decided to spend the duration of Laneway openly licking his wounds, hanging around the festival entrance looking for pity pats and sitting in the shadows onstage while his friend Mac DeMarco played to an adoring audience Callinan obviously hoped would reserve some cheers for him.
But if it seems illogical to open a festival review with the whimperings of one mutant, press-hungry brat, the less of whom is spoken about the better, then take that as a sign of Laneway’s great success. Callinan’s hangdog expression, tucked under his “look at me please!” cowboy hat, was the only skidmark on an otherwise unblemished road; a tiny wisp of cloud on an otherwise sunny day.
If it seems illogical to open a festival review with the whimperings of one mutant, press-hungry brat, the less of whom is spoken about the better, then take that as a sign of Laneway’s great success.
Oh, that and the front-heavy timetable – but having too many acts to see in a short space of time isn’t as much a curse as it is a blessing. The ever-dynamic Cable Ties were followed shortly by UK breakout stars Shame who, slathered in sunscreen and clad in denim cut-offs, jumped and crawled about the stage, singing songs about gynaecologists, death and concrete. They were one of those customary successful Laneway gambles – an excellent band with a tiny following in this country who proved as dynamic and interesting as the bigger acts booked.
Yet the real stand-out of the entire day proved to be Dream Wife, an Iceland-via-England punky four piece with more gumption than an entire stable of those tired moaners who usually get trotted out as the future of the post-rock scene. Every song was essential; the band’s stage presence was as precise as a scalpel; and they rolled the small but attentive audience between their hands like so much putty.
Aldous Harding, as quiet as Dream Wife were loud, stunned too. The New Zealand crooner is one of the most exciting artists currently working – an extraordinary talent with barbed, beautiful songs, and a voice made of sheet metal. Within six months, she’ll be running the world, mark my words.
And sure, although the heavy hitters did wonderful things with their sets – Father John Misty lolled his way about the stage, luxuriating in his ironic (but not really) songs; Pond rushed through their entire back catalogue with singular skill; and, despite a minor setback, Slowdive ended the day on a lingering high note – it was the achievements of the “smaller” acts that truly resonated. Harding, Dream Wife, Cable Ties – these are the acts that make Laneway what it is; the talents lurking just off the beaten track, asking audiences for nothing but a few moments of their time.
For more Laneway content, check out our review of Laneway 2017, here.
