Splendour in the Grass: Kim’s Saturday and Sunday Highlights
Dear Splendour in the Grass, oh how I miss you already. Thank you for the nasty flu. My withdrawals are now much worse because of it.
Dearest readers, may you peruse my noteworthy moments from Saturday & Sunday and feel as reminiscent as I do. And for those who were not in attendance, may I do my absolute best to make you feel like you were right there with me.
Dear those who might want to read my highlights from Thursday and Friday first, this is for you.
And without further ado,
Day 3 – Saturday
- I start the day with an icy cold beer. It was either that or a crappy $10 bacon and egg roll.
- Our next door neighbours gazebo is no more; a camping table has buckled from the middle inward.
- I stumble upon a beautiful tribute for Sydney producer Szymon, who lost his battle with depression at 23. In Loving Memory of Szymon is a heartwarming collaboration between his family members and a talented array of well-known artists such as Dave Le’auepepe, Emma Louise, Ball Park Music and more. It’s priceless and ever so authentic when artists collaborate and express themselves in such a way. I leave feeling honoured to have witnessed it.
- Absolute powerhouses, King Gizzard & the Lizard Wizard have two drummers. They are playing completely in-unison and it’s sort of turning me on.
- Gang of Youths front man, Dave Le’auepepe is bustin’ a move again. Oh! Now he’s wearing someone’s underwear on his head… Why is he still so hot? Mm… want to touch the hiney, aroooo. And oh my god, Magnolia; what a track! I hold back tears of sheer joy.
- Sticky Fingers have the biggest crowd yet! Remember friends, if you’re lost, you can look and you will find me – at the 3rd lantern on the right.
- I look down to find a solid handful of drink tickets on the ground. Hoorah!
- The day has flown but it’s party central at Santigold, ending my Saturday night on a banger. My mate next to me is impressively rapping everything, word for word, and I’m getting massive waves of nostalgia from hits such as Disaparate Youth and Can’t Get Enough of Myself. She stops mid-set to inform us: “It’s Sahn-ti-gold, okay? I don’t wanna hear no more of this San-ti-gold.” Okay, sorry babe. We truly didn’t realise. But on behalf of most of Australia and our accents, you’re probably shit outta luck there.
Day 4 – Sunday
- I start the day with a headache. It’s self inflicted and expected, so I don’t complain.
- The campsite is a train wreck.
- I devour a huge bowl of Beef Pho, sharing with friends and strangers as I make my way to City Calm Down. I feel a rush of pride knowing that a decent handful of the line-up consists of sublime Aussie talent.
- American six-piece outfit, The Internet smash out one soulful jam after another. Special Affair and Go With It have always been my personal faves. But of course, Girl has me and every other chick in the building wishing Syd Bennet wrote that one for them.
- My mates and I find a set of fairy lights and wrap them around ourselves before the night falls. Now we are joined at the hip. This tactic turns out to be a great way to attack a mosh pit at full force without being separated. Shortly after, it becomes a tangle web of death.
- I find myself in absolute awe of The Preatures. I watch intently as Isabella Manfredi struts about the stage and spits into thin air like a fucking rock star before launching into Ordinary. Bloody flawless; not ordinary in the slightest. Tonight is also the last show the band performs with guitarist, Gideon Benson before he ventures off on a solo project. To send him off, an intimate acoustic moment is shared between Isabella and Gideon, leaving me giddy.
- Everyone relaxes on the hill to gawk at the dashing James Blake as he lets loose his vocal cords from heaven. I feel the bass vibrate through my chest and it’s like a warm hug. He reminds us that his three-piece set is entirely live, giving it that vulnerability and honesty. It’s always a humbling reality check to realise that not everyone is perfect, even musicians of that calibre.
- I wander right up close for Sigur Ros. The crowd is tiny; a vacuum of the festival has everyone at Flume for their final hours at Splendour. Their visuals are encapsulating and instantly put me in a trance. There’s an intensity about Sigur Ros that just can’t be explained; it is just felt. At one stage, I had a bit of a sensory overload. My friend and I exit the tent to lie on our backs, staring out into the clear, starry night as the music streams over us like a thick wave of fog. At this point in time, I am in a state of perpetual bliss, so much so that I start crying. I finish my Splendour in the Grass convinced that Jónsi Birgisson is an alien and not just a talented Icelandic musician with a crazy falsetto, creating some of the most stunning post-rock I have ever come across.
Until next time, Splendy Bendy. Mwah x