South West Life

The day had arrived. Hordes of punters moved with singular purpose towards the greatest music event Bunbury has ever seen like, ants marching to a lollipop – or should I say cows to a milking shed.  As I hiked across the vast expanse of Hay Park playing fields, with the deep thump of promise reaching my ears, excitement stretched a grin tight across my mug.  A continuous succession of buses rolled up and thousands of revved-up revellers rolled out for the mustering. All was okay at the corral though, because due to superb organisation, there were no long queues at the entrance gate. Hats off to the organisers in fact, as this event was polished smoother than a cowboy’s belt buckle.

Once inside, it was a quick pit-stop at the licensed area, before joining the throng at the massive double main stage. I was just in time to catch the sweet sounds of Lisa Mitchell, as she worked her charm on an appreciative crowd who were warming up to the vibe in the afternoon sunshine. During her set I was amused by the approach of a girl wearing an eye-popping bustier and love-heart sunglasses and a guy with Marley dreadlocks, both festooned with ‘red aware’ stickers and handing out free condoms.  For the rest of the festival, condom balloons floated like miniature pink zeppelins over the heads of the masses.

As I caught up with crew and soaked up the buzz, I felt a pang of regret for not getting there earlier, since apparently I had missed a great set from Kisschasey who (I'm told) delivered a slick, crisp sound with great energy and had heads bouncing. I was also miffed to have missed the Bunbury Band Comp winners, Silver Lizard, whose unique punk rock beat opened the festival with clout.

Next up was British India who rocked the stage and amped up the groovers to the point where tee-shirts and shoes (yes shoes) became aerodynamic projectiles. On the subject of shoes, the number one choice of festival wear (besides cow-suits) was decidedly gumboots – gumboots for gals and guys of every colour and pattern you can imagine. Shiny hot pink was popular, but my favourite was red and white polka-dot trimmed with lace. Very practical when the skies open and the mosh pit turns to mud. But the dark clouds on the horizon offered no more than a ceremonial sprinkling.

Over in the Moolin Rouge tent Illy had kicked up their own storm, creating waves too big to not surf. Likewise, The Only packed out the dance tent which pulsed with the energetic swarm of bodies.  Having got swept up by the Moolin fervour and not yet perfected the art of being in two places at once,  I missed most of Miami Horror but thousands hadn’t - the masses had gathered in full force to be blitzed by their dynamic dance-rock  throb.

The proficiency of the event organisers ensured there was no delay between bands and before the cheers for Miami Horror had faded, Spoon hit the stage with an impressively tight set, delivered with hypnotic vigour. As the sun descended below the horizon and the mandatory communal beach-ball games dwindled, beanies and scarves materialised amongst the now dishevelled cow-suits. 

Tegan and Sara did not disappoint with their beautiful vocals and perfect harmonies and their fans went wild with every favourite tune, but before their set had finished, diehard Grinspoon fans began to assemble at the other stage, determined to tag a prime place in the mosh pit.  Leaving the faithful to their enthusiastic worship of those seasoned rock gods, I chose this time to go in search of fodder. There were choices ranging from the standard pizza, lamb van and kebabs to organic doughnuts, Salvadorian fare or Hare Krishna vego. I decided to avoid the long queue for hot chips and opted for a Krishna comfort curry, served in a split second with a smile.

Refuelled, I headed back to be dazzled by the Empire of the Sun spectacle, whose fantastical costumes and choreography left more of an imprint than their music. With the crowd now packed shoulder- to- shoulder from the barricade to the sound desk, the atmosphere crackled with electric hype and Vampire Weekend opened to thousands of unified horror-movie screams. A personal highlight for me, Vampire Weekend hit all the right festival chords, delivering an uplifting sound which reverberated long after the last punter had stumbled home. Deciding to ‘make hay’ while the cows still jumped over the moon, I only caught the first two Silverchair songs. Rumour has it  that although they played a few favourites, their performance didn’t match up to their heart-stopping charisma of the past.

All-in-all,  Bunbury’s Groovin The Moo was an awesome event that was well appreciated  by South West music fans of all genres. The efficiency of the organisation, the crisp, clean sound and the supreme smorgasbord of a line-up guaranteed an event to remember for a life-time.

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