REVIEW: Yours and Owls, A Little Something For Everyone

REVIEWS

14 Nov

Written By

Words by Bea Warren

I may have trekked interstate, but Yours and Owls only had to mosey next door. People didn’t seem to mind the change in scenery, from the beachfront at Stuart Park to grayscale monoliths at the University of Wollongong, because it was finally back. The Gong’s largest festival, their pride and joy. A line-up stacked with newbies and mainstays, locals and internationals, pub punters, job hunters, and traffic cone plunders, Yours and Owls had a little something for everyone, even if they didn’t expect it to.

PART 1: YOURS

I flashed my media pass at the gates and collapsed on the grass at Farmers Stage, where the heat was at its zenith. I had finally made it. From Brisbane to Wollongong, with no help, no luggage, and no way out, I was at the festival, unscathed but exhausted. I could hear Tia Gostelow from the Owls Stage. She supplied the soft indie tunes to my self-reflection. There, the sun was a welcome friend. I was swarmed by the stench of kebab trucks and $12 hot dogs as people in typical festival get-up strolled past.

A festival three-piece consists of a bucket hat, button-up, and pair of chino shorts from Jay-Jays, all matching.

Through the array of watermelon patterns and bum-bags, I caught a glimpse of some familiar faces walking down an alley. They were daggy, wore ripped jeans and walked amongst a menagerie of other long-haired freaks at all times. I was wrecked. I felt like laying stiff after my hike to the festival grounds yet, naturally, I followed them. There, down the all-but-mellow brick road, sat the Rad Stage, a place I could stay for the remainder of the festival. It was homely, aluminum fencing with graffitied nonsense and a lack of stability. The group I followed were nowhere to be seen. When The Sweaty Bettys walked on stage, though, my attention went straight to them, as if cued to distract me. That homely feeling all but went when they started playing. A queer, indie-rock three-piece with a light-hearted stage presence and vulnerability in their lyrics, The Bettys couldn’t contain their excitement at playing to such a large crowd. They’re a Wollongong mainstay, with Y&O being the largest gig they’ve played to date. Usually, The Bettys play their femme-focused tunes to a pub crowd, or for free at places like Wollongong Youth Services. But seeing The Bettys play on a stage dedicated to an abandoned local (RIP Rad Bar) gave me hope, that sense of community I needed, even if it wasn’t my own.

As I carried on throughout the day, however, that hope started to dwindle. Redhook played Farmers Stage and all I wanted was a few hardcore songs I could easily mosh to. All I got was an overly theatrical set dependent on a crowd that made a circle pit look like a merry-go-round. The set wasn’t bad, per se, but ill-fitting for the 2 o'clock time slot.

I headed for the Owls Stage, before remembering I had access to the VIP area. I went to the gate and was surprised when the seccy didn’t throw me out. A ramshackle kid with holes in their shorts and more in their shoes, who just waltzed in the VIP bar without even garnering a double-take. I was amongst other artists and people who weren’t afraid to fork out the extra dough for a cocktail. An aircon was in the corner, used to imitate tropical winds.

When polyester drapes weren’t flapping about, the bar gave a clear view of the stage, and an even clearer view of Hobo Johnson on the adjacent screen, bum fluff and all. I threw my tote to the railings, securing my spot, and hung off the edge.

Hobo Johnson made me feel very cool and mysterious at age 15. I grew out of his music eventually but was excited to relive adolescence for 40 minutes. Turns out, I know all the words to Hobo Johnson’s entire discography. And hearing it live illuminated that experience. Gone was the echoey production and soft guitars, swapped out with a band having fun and an actual drum-kit. Through ‘Anton LaVey’, Johnson’s mumbling was replaced with coarse hollers that the crowd shouted back at him. The ad libs felt natural. His guard was down. He was probably more drunk than what he let on, and I was engulfed in every second of it, forgetting about the railings in front of me. Dancing with the rest of the crowd.

Johnson’s music, to me, is like a cup of coffee – something that gives me energy and the illusion of feeling full. The crowd was pestering him throughout the set. Do a shoey, they chanted. And, in the end, he did. Johnson wiped the froth off his chin, and we cheered in response, sang the lyrics to ‘Peach Scone’ while he slurred his way through, but everyone dissipated soon after. It was a good set. People liked it, but they also wanted something more filling, something for them.

I clung to the bar, stayed away from the action. Sipping my lager while the crowd of Wollongong partied with purpose. The melodies of Ocean Alley gave an appropriate ode to the sun as dusk settled in. But as the night continued, I lost all confidence. Returning acts from previous years hit the Owls Stage. The crowd got larger and larger until the grass was coated in nothing but plastic cups and empty baggies. I left halfway through Hilltop Hoods because they played exactly how you’d expect them to. Everyone loved it.

PART 2: MINE

I woke up in my tent the next day, hips sore and back aching. Breakfast was six beers on the beach – XXXX because I was feeling homesick. I couldn’t explain to myself why I left early. There was no headache, no heatstroke, no good reason I could give to get me out scot free. It just didn’t feel like it was for me, which is all I really needed.

Tagged along with my camping ticket came free travel to and from the festival, from one of those party buses your mate would hire for a buck’s night. We all hopped in and a group in the front kept coughing because the smoke machine would go off every time the bus hit a speed bump.

Most of my time was spent at the smaller stages. I scurried back to Rad Stage, hoping to lose some composure, and ARCHIE certainly helped. While not the type of music I expected to hear down the alleyway, their indie-pop with a dash of dance helped me warm up for the rest of the day. Songs like ‘Closure’ were funky enough to get my heart pumping and the Daft Punk- inspired hooks kept my attention. New releases like ‘Out In The City’ had a radio-pop sound with a smidge of Spacey Jane that was welcomed by all. At the end of it, though, I was left with the reminder that it feels no good to be alone.

Beyond Rad was another stage dedicated to a bar in Wollongong. La La Las was built atop a university car park, along with the plethora of confectionery parlours beside the entryway, which made way for the next band.

Sesame Girl was an absolute treat. Starting off their set with ‘Bored’ and sprinkling newer releases throughout, such as ‘BOYS’ and ‘Faking It’, you’d forget about the melancholic and emotional lyricism that harbours behind their dreamy bubble-rock. No matter which aspect people gravitated to, however, Sesame Girl kept people dancing. The set was halfway done when I saw The Sweaty Bettys grooving alongside me. Nothing major, no moshing or leaping or flailing side-to-side, but a sweet singalong directed at the stage. They finished with the aptly-named ‘Leave’, and I went to sit on a grassy patch in front of a pizza van, back near Farmers Stage.

The six beers finally got to me as it was The Rions’ turn to play. I didn’t know much about the band, only the few songs a friend recommended to me. Although my focus was on trying not to throw up, I was tapping my foot the whole way through their set. Catchy is the only way to describe songs like ‘Scary Movies’ or ‘Sadie’, getting the entire crowd, front-to-back, to lift their feet off the ground. I sobered up enough by the time they played their final song, ‘Night Light’, to join in on the fun, but I ended up recording half of it to send to my friend anyway. It wasn’t my favourite song, and I knew they’d appreciate it. We’re two very different people. First time I showed them Full Flower Moon Band I thought they’d hate it.

Everyone wandered off and I kept searching for a spot with enough signal to send the video off, which led me to a bench across the Garden of Fizz, one of the many bars with an accompanying rave that was available at the festival.

The video was sent and five minutes later he replied with a flurry of exclamation points and heart reacts.

‘Did you catch FFMB?’ he said.

They were on the night before; I forgot all about them. They were the band I wanted to see most, and I left before they even started. I missed out.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed something. A tattered grey singlet slapped on some lanky bloke with a ginger mullet. He was walking to the table across from, to a lady wearing overalls. The same overalls I saw yesterday. He sat down and I got a clear look at everyone. Full Flower Moon Band was just sitting back, talking about the festival, how excited they were to see Pendulum, how good Hallie was, how Golden Features was better than they thought. I saw how their faces lit up talking about it all, the different genres and acts and personalities. How there was something for everyone.

PART 3: OWLS

TOWNS were playing in five minutes, and I felt another gaping hole form in my shoe as I thumped over to the concrete. No one in the crowd knew what the word ‘safety’ meant as the duo exploded on stage. ‘LDLW’ formed a mosh that lasted for the remainder of their quick 20-minute set, all the way through to ‘Speak for Myself’. Not everyone joined in, some people came and went, but it was exactly what I needed.

Afterwards, I gave myself the opportunity to explore, hopping from one act to the other. A little bit of Aussie grime from Babyface Mal back to the indie rock from Teenage Dads that I find so comforting, all before heading back to the Owls Stage for Oliver Tree.

I was able to squish through to the front as Tree ollie’d on stage. He wore a bald cap that was dripping with sweat by the third song. I thought his act was so-so, giving the crowd time to cheer as he went on about how he’s back in his hometown of Wollongong. He kept getting people to wave their hands in the air every other song to no avail. I thought it was cheesy and only catered to drunk people in their 20s. Luckily, there were plenty of those to go around. Everyone around me screamed, went on and on as Tree played all the hits. Mixed with ‘Miss You’, ‘Cowboys Don’t Cry’, and ‘Hurt’ were classics like ‘Alien Boy’ and ‘When I’m Down’ that got the mosh to open. But when everyone heard the opening notes to ‘F*ck’, we all knew what to do. That pit only got wider and we only went harder. The VIPs comfortably watched from afar.

After Tree, I continued on my journey. Caught glimpses of bands I’d never heard before. Had a couple of drinks I don’t remember buying and dancing to a DJ set I can’t recall. But, at the end of it all, I went back to where I was most comfortable. I caught the final minutes of BIG WETT’s set, dank beats and dildos flying through the air. In an attempt to snatch one final moment before partying off the precipice, I sat on the bricks of Rad Stage, just to breathe. Just to check in.

I had come all this way and expected it to be extraordinary. A vacation away from all my responsibilities. But it wasn’t. It thought it was just as worse down here as it was up there. Travelling to Wollongong permeated the thought of this arbitrary rivalry we get through football and picking our favourite colours. But there’s always something you can appreciate, always a place for you to go, even when you’re so far away from home.

More and more people shuffled in, and when those legendary punk riffs strewed across the alleyway, I thought to myself, These New South Wales aren’t so bad after all.