Peats Ridge Festival 2009-2010

A complete account of the highlights and experiences of one Soulshiner at the 2009 Peats Ridge Festival.

Day 1 –Monday 28th December 2009

The short trip up to Peats Ridge Festival, nestled in Glenworth Valley was quick, and the traffic not a problem. All appreciated in a small car that is dangerously packed to the roof with supplies, of their various sorts and priority.

We arrived in reasonable time only to encounter a disorganised ticketing system in the form of one lonely girl in the window of a caravan. With the queue for earlybird volunteers, media, artists and the general public only lengthening, the last light of the day creeping back from the horizon and the clouds threatening a serious downpour, impatience progressed into urgency and our first interaction with the festival seemed an ominous one. Still, with wristbands ill-fittingly applied, and only one instance in which the car became bogged in the slushy mud, we were on our way to setting up a heroic campsite only 100 metres from the footbridge entrance to the festival, and just in time fit in a tasty meal and a quick exploration of the festival site before midnight. It was interesting to note how many punters arrived for earlybird camping; by the time we retired to bed, it seemed that there would be no room for the majority of campers arriving on the official first day!

Day 2 –Tuesday 29th December 2009

It was not until those in my camp awoke at roughly 6.30am that we all understood we had chosen to place ourselves in the family camping area. This is distinguished by the sweet sounds of the early risers, voices that are far too high pitched for those slumbering to ignore, and that usually involve excited shrieks or easily resolved arguments about whether Capoeira is infact Kung Fu or dancing (the eager participant explicitly denied the involvement of dancing). In my head I yelled “Both! Go back to bed!” but it seems the boys weren’t receptive to my brainwaves, and continued their discussion on this pressing matter. Had they consulted the $6 program guide they may have found the definition they were looking for, but I certainly wasn’t going to lend them mine at that price. Admittedly though, we were pretty chuffed with our location, being close to all the amenities and the festival entrance.

We began the day’s entertainment by wandering over to the Lyrebird stage for some breakfast music, this being at around 1pm. Here, Black Bird Hum had been replaced at the last minute by a band whose name I didn’t catch, though they delivered a tasty set of chilled reggae, and referenced themselves to popular Sydney band King Tide. Following that was a satisfying serving of hard rock from Mick Hart’s duo Monkey Boy. For those you who remember infamous festival enigma Mitchy, here we encountered a shirtless, long-haired free spirit who we decided could or should be his cleaner little brother. For those lucky enough not to know who Mitchy is, you may sleep soundly, for he is the most unhygienic and loose man you could ever hope to meet at a festival.

The masses seemed relaxed and in a good mood, despite the steamy weather and seriously deep, slushy mud that would swallow your thongs if you took that risk. Footwear of the day was therefore gumboots, followed by barefoot at a close second, which was a said to be a very sensual experience.

We followed a tip-off that a bunch of Zimbabwean Aussies were going to rock out at the Phoenix, so here we discovered the two twin MCs and the DJ who make up True Vibenation. This was a delightful and down to earth showcase of multinational hip-hop that saw us all getting down, and it was nice to catch a hip-hop act where all members demonstrated they could play an instrument as well as rhyme. Emerging into the open, we were stunned by one of the most elaborate and bizarre roving performances I’ve seen yet, which involved a naked woman riding a well-crafted unicorn that had been somehow fitted onto a bicycle which was being pulled along by two muddy pirates and followed by two small boats on wheels containing topless gypsy women also pulled by pirates surrounded by even more crazy pirates and a whole crew of varied performers including fawns, burlesque women, and undefinable costumes of all sorts. If that sentence made little sense to you, then you’re on the right track. Furthermore, said pirates would suddenly and unexplainably all drop to the ground and writhe and seize painfully in the mud for a minute or so. After this it was of course back to the arduous task of wheeling along the unicorn and its woman, who had her finger pointed forwards and ever onwards.

Spending the final hours of the afternoon and the early hours of the eve back at camp headquarters, a few social drinks turned into a well-photographed rampage around the festival site in which many said to be memorable acts including Bertie Blackman (playing to a very happy crowd at the main stage – the Bellbird) and highly anticipated Liam Finn, rocked the Ridge. Our regrettable absence from these performances was instead utilised gaining new and undoubtedly profound appreciation for many a beautiful sculpture around the site, including a large cloth humpback whale stretched around wire and mesh, and a silver mannequin with used mobile phones splayed around her feet, whom we greeted as kindly as we did any other festival goer that evening. It was on this very evening that I made one of the most disappointing discoveries about this year’s festival – and that is the unfriendliness towards credit cards. Approaching the ATM (infact a human armed with an eftpos machine) at one of the bars, I soon found out that my Debit Mastercard was not an acceptable form of plastic and despite being my own money, could not be accessed via any route or combination of mindless button pressing. This brought down my festival experience to one of shamefully borrowing cash and budgeting tightly, which can only be to the detriment of many a stallholder I should have liked to transact with. On our way to bed, we took a long detour, catching a few fun tracks from DJ Sofie in the Dub Shack, a location that at all hours of the day and night pumped bass frequencies to an intensity not experienced before, and then on to the Underworld to grab a slice of indie rock with The Paper Scissors.

Day 3 – Wednesday 30th December 2009

Another 7ish A.M. start care of a few hopeful buskers from family camping. Armed with only a kazoo and lots of kinetic energy they set off to make a few glorious bucks, and I arose to test out the offerings at the Mayan coffee stand. It was obviously very popular, because little less than 25 minutes later I was sipping on a delicious organic flat white.

I then ventured into the unknown territory of the other campsites to locate some long-lost friends. This year the campsites seemed more and yet less organised, with better sectioning off producing clearer walk and roadways, while general planning and positioning of areas seemed odd, such as our quiet family camping being in such close proximity to the noisy Dub, and general public camping being the quieter and more spacious location. On this note, while the composting toilets did their eco-friendly job, long queues in the rain would suggest that particularly in the campsites, more toilet blocks were needed to facilitate the number of waste producing mammals.

After a lazy effort at attending the morning’s entertainment we strolled up to enjoy lunch in the Lyrebird tent to the fabulous beats of Circle of Rhythm, led by the dynamic Ben Walsh. A definite highlight of the festival, the trio took the crowd on a fascinating exploration of global percussive instruments and rhythms, some fast, some magically slow, all delivered by the most enviably talented blokes in their fields. As a percussionist, that might be a slightly biased assessment, but looking around at the crowd absolutely loving it, it seems fair to say. Immediately afterwards we were treated to another highlight of the festival, Steve Poltz. After missing his Tuesday performance, I was relieved when Steve delighted his audience with his an acoustic set combining good clean fun with his wicked, often dirty, sense of humour. A real storyteller, Steve had us all in fits of laughter for the duration of his set and there was also a real honesty in it that left us all feeling like we’d just made a great new friend.

After a few fruitless attempts at swapping my digital moneys for some cash from stallholders, I slumped off to see Jeff Lang at the Bellbird where all my financial woes left me at once. It was a perfect afternoon, the sun was low in the sky and the mud had dried somewhat and been flattened by trampling, and the raunchy tones of Jeff’s lapsteel were being positively eaten up by the crowd – a mix of the seated, relaxing by the river, and those grooving up the front. Further, I’d finally secured myself a spot in the line for phone charging at the solar station, which had previously been so busy it was impenetrable. Reception at the festival was unexpectedly good, though occasionally, messages arrived some hours later.

Once again we found ourselves back at camp in the early evening, finding it the perfect time of day to sneak in a much-needed shower, cook up a meal and enjoy some fine wine and fine company. As it was a day of highlights and new discoveries, it was fitting when we cruised back to the Bellbird and familiarised ourselves with Japanese funk band Mountain Mocha Kilimanjaro. Who knows whether it was the Engrish, the very suave, very Jap Mafia outfits, the charm of these lovely boys or indeed the killer sounds but MMK was hot. It was worth abandoning our friends (who are quite hard to re-locate) to weave through the crowd all the way to the front and boogie with the best of them.

Now in a fantastic mood, bedtime seemed a long way away and we caught some reggae hip hop with Astronomy Class, had a brief encounter with Noel Boogie, but finding it a little ravey for our current mood, progressed to our old reliable, Vic’s Disco Tent, where we brought out all our daggiest moves until the turntable could spin no more.

Day 4 –Thursday 31st December, 2009 - NYE

Having made it through a wet night into a hot morning, Peats Ridge was transformed into something of a sauna. This happily coincided with the visitation of the leeches. Yummy. Complimenting this was the smell that had begun to waft from the toilet blocks, which despite the daily cleaning, couldn’t escape from the fact they were after all, a garbage bin deposited under a toilet seat, and were filling rapidly even with the occasional emptying. Reminding myself to think positively, I had to remark to myself what a lovely community of people were here at the festival. For one, it was a place where you could feel comfortable bringing your children and letting them wander barefoot. It was a place where a scruffy, post-dreadlocks young man would find you personally and talk for hours to your sister in Melbourne trying to co-ordinate the swift return of your mobile phone so it doesn’t disappear among the rest of the never-to-be-returned lost and founds.

While catching a bit more Jeff Lang at the Bellbird in the early afternoon, the heavens erupted with a few fat raindrops that turned into a serious deluge.
Seeking shelter, we ventured into the Phoenix tent to catch local band Saving Grace, who, after a few technical glitches, delivered a set of honest alternative folk/rock and lovely vocal harmonies.

When the rain has subsided, we moved back to the Bellbird to witness the dark genius of Jeff Martin, and after a quick costume change into our NYE masquerade getup, it was back to the main stage to really start the festivities of the night, kicking off with Tijuana Cartel. It was the first time I’d caught this Queensland band and with their sound a mixture of flamenco, electro and latino, it was certainly not an option not to dance and you couldn’t help but get caught up in their exciting rhythms.

Part of this evening’s entertainment was of course the costumes of all the festival goers themselves, and this year’s array of crazy attire was not the least bit disappointing. It’s sometimes hard to believe the effort put in for this one night, but Peats Ridge’s dedicated followers braved the rain and mud, the limited space in their bags, and the steamy heat to bring us some of the best New Year’s costumes The Valley had ever witnessed. Speaking of the mud, this was also high on the entertainment list, with many a stack, or a slippery bike ride into oblivion, for those who weren’t careful (note: this would represent majority of the punters on NYE.)

Some drinks and a good dose of Hare Krishna’s ‘Big feast’ later, we found ourselves being treated to one of the most anticipated acts of the festival, UK band Lamb, who left some of the audience in tears of passion and wonder. The band’s haunting sound, combining electro, trip hop, and house beats with acoustic and orchestral instruments and fleeting samples, is completed by the searing vocals of the gorgeous Lou Rhodes. Now dispensed with the tissues, we made our way through the crowds, stopping to admire more costumes and roving performers and attempted to stay together despite all the distractions on offer. A brief pop in to check out Barons of Tang left us hungry for more, as their crazy antics and gypsy grunge reeled us in for a dance, but we had other plans and had to get on with them! Safely in the front row at the Underworld, we let the very energetic and funky 11-piece Bakery take us through to midnight dancing up a storm, in their glow in the dark getup. Uber funky.

After emerging from Underworld-turned-steam-room, 300 people or so found themselves feeling a strange sense or animalistic community, and for the next 5 minutes, as the clouds parted to reveal a big full moon, said people howled like wolves at the sight of it.

Finding myself separated from my clan, I once again took on the Underworld to enter the frenzy created by The Crooked Fiddle Band, who I recalled as being part of last year’s midnight entertainment (and fantastic entertainment at that.) While this year’s set saw less hairy men in bikinis assisting the countdown to midnight, there was certainly no less energy or excitement in the room, as these metal gypsy folk-rockers roared and stomped into the wee hours.

Spending my last few awoken hours quietly watching the festival grounds empty, the cold mist descend, and chatting with members of The Bakery, I sat back and absorbed the essence of Peats Ridge festival and stored it away for later reminiscing. It reminded me what I like about this festival, there is so much on offer, a great deal of which I didn’t get to thoroughly experience, such as the Bohemian Love Theatre, Avant Garden, drumming, craft and dance workshops, a petting zoo for the kids (which I walked by, smitten with one miniature goat in particular, several times) and so much more. But there isn’t any rush or urgency in the air, there is something to enjoy for everyone and every age, and if you miss something, chances are it will be on again during the week, otherwise there’s always next year!

Day 5 – Friday 1st January, 2010

Waking up once again to the joyful sound of God’s children, and gentle rain on the tent roof, I emerged to find a peaceful morning, and a great 2 for $10 breakfast offer going at the juice bar. A few hours later, everyone was finally awake and ready to pack up camp. After fighting off dozens of 8-legged inhabitants, and somehow compressing our large campsite into a small 2-door, it was a quick 1 hour drive back to Sydney. Feeling suitably exhausted but refreshed from the brief stint out in the bush, it was back to reality and city living in 2010. But it was good to know that if any Peats nostalgia was to ever kick in, it wouldn't be far to go for a good dose of the Valley.