Alean Penaflor: February 2011

Admittingly I didn't find myself staying very long, as my friend and I found ourselves merely irritated and in search for better things. I guess it was sort of our fault for not trusting our past experience, but going anyway 'just for the sake of it'. We'd planned on seeing only two bands that day, one being Hungry Kids of Hungary and the other being Muscles. Both my friend and myself had previously seen Hungry Kids of Hungary at a smaller festival held in Moonee Ponds. We were slightly disappointed that for the second time, Hungry Kids failed to give any sort of energy. I mean, it probably isn't even of their doing, and perhaps it may've just been unfortunate that the both times I've seen them has been in broad daylight and in an open venue, but there's something very constricted about their performances. They're nice enough, conversing and just being generally friendly to the crowd so I'll just put it down to playing in the wrong 'venue'. Being stuck behind a big group of kids who found it extremely entertaining to crowd surf didn't help either, although us seething fellow crowd members got our revenge by dropping the bastards onto the floor. Deciding to head back into the city, we didn't end up staying around for Muscles' set.

Photos: Alean Penaflor

I've found that there is always an extremely terrible aftermath of attending gigs. That sickening feeling of lying in bed(or wherever you may graciously find yourself) in the wee hours of the next morning, wishing you were back in that claustrophobic, overheated and sans-personal-space, moshpit. You'd think I'd learn by now, but I refuse to accept encores and afterparties as an 'okay you've had your fun, may you please exit our premises now. If you won't, I'm sure our bouncer here can help you out'. That so called bouncer, who was once your bestfriend even for just some hours, has now also turned on you. To think what we had was real man, shame on you.

With support act Parades warming up those awaiting the arrival of the headliners, I couldn't help but revel in the fact that their music was the type you'd have as a movie soundtrack to something like a Sofia Coppola film(If Phoenix wasn't so involved), and I don't mean that in a bad way at all. They're heavily instrumental with minimal lyrics, and it works. Actually I don't know so much about the Sofia Coppola thing anymore, her soundscores are often more twinkling and whimsical whilst Parades has a bit more...oopmh.

The end of their set saw a half an hour break, comprising of dj tunes that suited more of a seedy nightclub (which is a shame because before the support act they were playing bands such as Clap Your Hands Say Yeah). Finally...

Admittingly, Ben the drummer is quite amusing to watch. Despite not being a part of the band's legitimate lineup, you can't help but jump up abit higher with him bouncing around behind the kit. Unfortunately, because of the almost red-cordial induced hyperactivity, I couldn't get a photo of him without it being blurred.

A frantic frenzy swept throughout the gathered mass as beloved 'Something Good Can Work' broke through the speakers, whilst the heartfelt acapella version of 'What You Know' had the crowd bellowing the words back to lead Alex as he held the stage solo, up untill the rest of the band kicked in with the original tune. If anything's a certain, it's that Alex can sing. There's often a doubt that the voice on a recording is autotuned and polished, only to leave audiences disappointed when the flaws are heard at a live show. Alex proved this wrong however, as his voice was nothing but melodious and spot on.

The band graced us with 'Come Back Home' and 'I Can Talk' for their encore. My God, shit got crazy when they played 'I Can Talk' as their final ode to Melbourne. As the opening line goes by 'Uh oh, uh uh oh' ,was more than adequate. They were in big trouble, for having to leave us.

But as all good things go, everything must come to an end. Like a tasty Grill'd burger, there's that last morsel that we try to savour, in a desperate attempt of clinging onto what is left, and by that I mean I fought for the last setlist that once belonged to the crew.

Alex Trimble, you had me at the flip of your red hair.