SEP. 03 ~ 16:35pm THE ARRIVAL
After being kindly serenaded by the lads in the back of the bus with the full suite of songs from Flight of the Conchords season 1 on the tragically dry ride up, the coach drops us off at a hastily bulldozed clearing known as ‘Gate 4′ in the middle of nowhere. It turns out that to get my wristband I have to take the shuttle to Gate 1, me along with 25 other people. Thirty minutes later the 14 person shuttle shows up on its once every thirty minute cycle… brilliant work EP. I kill time by laughing at people who pack 4L of orange juice in tetra packs and then act really surprised when they find it leaking all over their stuff.
SEP. 03 ~21:00 THE ELF’S JOURNEY
With everything finally settled it’s time for the first gig of the night- wandering troubadour Jónsi, on hiatus from post-rock stalwarts Sigur Rós. Seems like he always found his old band’s image quite sartorially confining judging by the riotously frilled, buttoned, feathered, belled, and whistled garment he was.. brandishing. It looked great, and the wide-eyed innocence he engaged the crowd with seemed heartfelt and genuine. However, the pinecone doesn’t fall far from the ancient fir so to speak and his music trucked in the same familiar concepts of cinematic grandeur and epic climaxes as his day job, cheered somewhat by brighter and busier vocal lines. It’s all a bit obvious, a bit manipulative, but still enjoyable- kind of like how you cry at a Hollywood movie, even though you see it coming a mile away.
SEP. 04 ~ 22:45 COOL DADS INC.
Probably the most interesting headliner of the weekend in a festival lineup light on actual headliners, Roxy Music are pretty much the ideal booking to appeal to The Picnic’s preferred demographic. They were about as good as a blatant nostalgia act can be, old pros playing the tunes everyone wanted and showing off some impressive chops while they’re at it. This was very obviously the Brian Ferry show up there and it was also obvious that he was just doing it as a favour to his mates. He still drips style after all these years though (the full head of hair definitely helps) and gave the other members plenty of time to shine. Chief among them was the amazing old saxophone player who was so unconcerned with trying to look cool that it actually made him twice as cool, ripping out insane sleazy saxophone solos all over the place. This was a smooth production, almost as smooth as the skin-tight pvc catsuit painted on to some vampy looking Eastern European babe playing the violin while striking poses in four inch stilettos. Will Brian Ferry bang her after the show? Do you even have to ask?
By Marcus O’Sullivan
