A Big Day Out

There is always a balance to life. Positives & negatives to any option or choice. Something ‘bad’ about everything ‘good’. Granted some things you really have to think about what the ‘bad’ is, but it’s always there. It wasn’t long before we realized what the downside was to the ‘Big Day Out’ festival. The ‘good’ points were obvious months in advance: a killer set-list; close proximity to home (contrary to a 5 hour drive to the arse end of Britain for a Glastonbury festival); it is relatively cheap etc. The ‘bad’ became obvious when checking out the first band on the main stage. Unfortunately, this ‘bad’ point was quite a major one for a festival; there was something wrong with the sound levels. Whether it was a lack of speakers, poor acoustics to the stadium, the quality of the equipment, or just bad sound management, I don’t know, but something was definitely amiss. It seemed the only area receiving decent sound was the 50m radius around centre stage, which just so happened to be the VIP area. Everywhere else enjoyed sporadic bursts of clarity and volume depending on the stillness of the area, and the quietness of the surrounding crowd. I’m definitely not against people singing along to their favourite songs (depending on alcohol consumption, I’m right up there with the most passionate), but there is something drastically wrong at a concert, if you can’t hear the people on stage above the sound of the people around you singing.

‘Eskimo Joe’ got things started on the main stage, and apart from a couple cheesy-charty annoyances, they put us firmly in the festival mood. Other influences were classic ingredients to any outdoor music event: great bands, perfect sunshine, quality booze, shite food, and the unforgettable smell of freshly-puffed grass.

After that, we did some reconnaissance work, covered the territorial extremes, and saw what else was on offer. One highlight of this trip was a sample of the group ‘Spank Rock’ in the dance tent (appropriately labeled, ‘The Boiler Room’). They were a funky, punky, collage of beats that begged some initial head nodding, later leading to full body movement.

The next main band that made the grade for us was ‘My Chemical Romance.’ The only problem was that due to their success, and consequent standing on the main stage, they suffered the same piss-poor sound production as earlier bands. Despite the messages of of texts being displayed on a huge video screen, and comments shouted pleading for a volume increase, our combined pleas fell onto deaf ears - Ironic considering they were more easily heard than the bands themselves.

Despite being massacred by a slight westerly wind, a few thousands raised arms, and a little environmental noise, the final chords of ‘Welcome to The Black Parade’ made it in decimated form to our unfulfilled ears, and we left to seek greener pastures. This just happened to be a field outside the main stadium and the location for the 2nd set of stages. Our motivation for this move? Well aside from our quest for a higher state of volume, this would be the arena for one of my favourite acts from the Glastonbury festival in 2005.

A simple ‘Kia Ora’ (‘hello’ / ‘welcome’ in Maori), followed by the quick quip ‘I’ll be your dog!’, confused every kiwi in the crowd, and made pockets of British people piss themselves laughing. Apparently the tropical fruit drink, ‘Kia Ora’, which is remembered so vividly for the adverts involving crows pretending to be dogs, in order to receive some of the drink, was not known by our Kiwi cousins. With that prelude of confusion, ‘Kasabian’ made their musical introduction to the New Zealand market and started with the first, and title track from their latest album, ‘Empire.’ The next 50 minutes was non-stop action that ended with a field of arms raised high and swaying to their beat. It was our favourite performance of the festival, and later became, the most talked about around the city. ‘Kasabian’ had done the country proud.

After loading up on booze in one of the designated drinking areas (apparently Kiwi’s can’t be trusted to drink everywhere), we watched the musical murder of ‘The Killers’ on the main stage, and then resigned to the fact that no band was worth watching in such conditions. It was this reluctant acceptance though that led us to a highlight of the festival’s twilight. Whilst the majority were moshing it up to ‘Tool’, we were chilling out, and winding down to the sounds of the ‘John Butler Trio.’ Having never heard them before, and following disappointments elsewhere in the festival, it was a righteous end to a big day out.