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The Best Of The V Fest @ Myer Music Bowl 4th April 2007 |
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by Tom Bradbury
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Mon:09-Apr-07 |
The V Festival is a money making exercise. That’s why it shouldn’t
strike me as strange that the area closest to the stage is kept for
those with larger wallets. Reserved seating is always a vibe killer,
making you feel more like you are at the opera than a rock show.
However, if you are one of the privileged few to gain admittance to the
front section and happen to look behind you, there appears to be a
deceptive amount of people, an endless horizon of faces. Also, the fact
that the Sydney Myer Music Bowl is an amphitheatre means that you can
see the stage fairly well from most locations. Unless you have a
reserve ticket, however, you are a long way from the stage. What makes
this all worthwhile is the tremendous feeling of anticipation in the
air – The Pixies are going to play.
The New York Dolls
The New York Dolls opened the night, playing signature tunes such as
’Trash’. It was interesting just to see the historic band, but their
sound on stage was a bit thin, even when compared to far less
cacophonous Phoenix who followed next – they were no where near as
ferocious as on their albums. It would be easy to blame it on the age
of front man Johansen and guitarist Sylvain Sylvain, but The Stooges
are of comparable vintage and are immeasurably more powerful live.
Despite this, it was still a trip to see a band who holds such an
eccentric place in rock mythology re-enact their camp stylings of years
ago.
Jarvis Cocker
One thing was apparent from Jarvis Cocker’s set at the V Festival. He
likes to talk. Between most songs he would give an extended soliloquy
on whatever issue that seemed to be concerning at the time. At one
stage he remarked thoughtfully, “I’ve always wondered about the effect
of music on plants”, a conundrum that he reflected upon at length. Few
would be able to be so philosophical and charismatic at the same time.
Usually somebody is either the person who sits in the corner brooding
or the one who spends all night dancing and drinking. Jarvis Cocker
somehow manages to be both.
He is a crafty dancer, completely confident on stage, and since a lot
of people didn’t know any of his songs, this was probably the main
thing keeping the audience interested. Many were clamoring for old Pulp
songs, but they heckled in vain, as Cocker stuck solely to his solo
material. The highlight was definitively a blistering rendition of
‘Cunts Are Still Running The World’, a song which very clearly outlines
Cocker’s worldview in its title alone. Performed complete with fiery
fist clenches and vocal histrionics, it is proof enough that Cocker’s
cynicism has not been tempered by middle age or fatherhood.
The Pixies
Given The Pixies tumultuous history, it was surprising how happy they
seemed to be performing again, especially Kim Deal, who could not seem
to wipe the grin of her face for the entire duration of their set. This
undoubtedly had something to do with the fact that the crowd was in a
state of uncontrolled ecstasy. Many people there had been waiting a
long, long time to see The Pixies, probably thinking they would never
have the chance. The room was full of meaningful glances between
friends and strangers alike, which could be easily read for they
communicated one sentiment more than any other – this is too good to be
true.
There was, however, one fairly bizarre incident. Frank Black called a
halt to proceedings halfway through ‘Monkey Gone To Heaven’. Something
in the crowd had drawn his ire: “The Pixies draw the line at beach
balls,” Black remarked. Yet this only increased the anticipation of the
audience, as the band went though a drawn out discussion of what part
of the song they should start playing from again. “Lets start after the
first chorus”…”Okay, after the first chorus but before Joey’s solo”.
The banter was cute, but one of the most refreshing things about The
Pixies was their lack of pretension. They didn’t dress up, they didn’t
dress down – they just wore clothes. They did not give the appearance
of thinking they were the coolest people there, although they almost
certainly were. More than anything else, they seemed to really
appreciate the crowd’s excitement to see them. Even Frank Black’s
grumpy exterior cracked to show signs of awe at the crowd’s enthusiasm,
and at the end of the set they exuded grace in their efforts to show
thanks to their audience.
The V Festival was a strange experience, in that it seemed like a
fairly haphazard and random event, both in band selection and in the
overall set-up. Yet any lingering sense of disquiet was eliminated by
the eccentric inferno that was The Pixies. Being able to see the band
that paved the way for the modern indie rock world was a humbling and
rare experience.
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