Splendour in the Mud 2022 - Part 2
The Splendour rumour mill spread like wildfire through the campsite of the escalated shitshow the organisers managed to pull out the night before. Having already moved 6,000 campers to an alternative site on Thursday due to the atrocious conditions, it seemed they failed to cater for extra buses to bring those patrons into and out of the festival. We heard first hand tales of young folk leaving the gig before the headline act ending to beat the rush. Joining the queues around 11pm some didn’t make it to their accomodation in nearby towns until 5am the next morning. Just a few more layers onto the mounting pile for some.
The lines were excessive, the buses non existent, the rain persistent, and all had to stand in ankle deep mud for hours on end with no toilets, warmth or water. Organisers did however go all out World Vision to provide a soggy banana to some. It was a shitshow beyond compare and understandably many questioned even coming back for the Sunday edition. While the reviews were universally scathing, the decision to try again was equally divided, however we think Lillian Tabacco hit the nail on the head with her delightfully sarcastic 6am Facebook post…
The BOM website Sunday morning had more hits than Elvis Presley and the predicted sunny skies thankfully arrived. Having little to no effect on the Somme battle field between the campgrounds and festival, the procession of now fully glammed up patrons marched its way across World Stage Lake and unavoidably through the Ganache Pond. We sought refuge in the VIP village to enjoy a breakfast of Vodka Redbulls and Smirnoff Lime and Sodas. Anything to numb the expected pain.
Heading back to the La Brea Tar Pit formally known as the GW McLennan tent, we caught our first act of the day King Stingray. Arnhem Lands’ best kept secret, this amazing 5 piece outfit and their unique take on indigenous-surf-rock are currently in their infancy. Coming off their 46th placed hottest 100 debut, the Triple J Unearthed winners drew a crowd belying their 12:30pm slotting. Their catchy anthemic tunes are grounded by clap sticks and didgeridoo and woven together by Yirrna Yunupinu’s marvellously soulful voice sung in both english and his own indigenous dialect. Their music is almost spiritual and the lyrics a telling of our great land and all its people. Both the frontman and wailing lead guitarist Roy Kellaway are second generation descendants of Yothu Yindi members who’s genetic traits are evident in every song. This is a band on the rise we’ve seen twice in 5 weeks making this opening set for Sunday a very special one.
We crossed the festival site through the Yangtze River which now resembled a section of the Kokoda Track and headed for the Mix Up tent and 3 back to back sets from very different artists. First cab of the rank was JK-47, Triple J’s 2020 unearthed artist of the year and his blend of creative indigenous hip-hop. From nearby Tweed Heads, JK-47 delivered an amazingly infectious set centred mostly around that which is most important to him. His culture and his people. Joined by a collective of feature artists including Ruel, this talented writer proved to us that hip-hop can be not only tolerated, but enjoyed for an hour.
Northeast Party House came next with their Australian electro-pop sound so contagious it bleed from the speakers, transgressed the mud and performed osmosis through our gum boots. Engulfing the body, their music leaves one powerless to ignore their high energy and wildly inspiring melodies. They are a party band and the capacity crowd swayed and jumped on cue spraying mud in all directions. This was the band Splendour needed to wash away the blues and had the tent been bigger, it would still be overflowing and rocking even harder.
Rounding out our Mix Up trifecta was the enigmatic Genesis Owusu and his highly anticipated show stopping performance. The Ghanaian born Canberra based multi award winning artist, described to “globally surpass genres and disrupt boundaries” took control from the moment he entered the stage - riding on the hooded backs of 4 of his stage dancers - and we knew we were in for something special. The music was uplifting combining many genres into a new inexplicable one, and his tight knit band were equally theatrical as the troupe of dancers weaving their way effortlessly into the stage presence created by the front man. The creativity, energy and artistry packed into a non-headlining act can not be overstated, with the only negative being it wasn’t scheduled for the amphitheatre and 50,000 people to inhale. Only minutes before Lyndall took a spill in the ladies toilets coming out covered in mud making this adventure even more memorable.
As a new addition to the 2022 version, the Parklands Stage was consistently voted the muddiest bog hole on site. We as yet hadn’t attended, but local Byron band The Babe Rainbow channelled us inward for what would turn out to be perhaps our most interesting set all festival. With weekend heavy legs, our boots sunk deeper into this particular brand of sludge and the undeniable scent of medicinal cannabis wafted from the 2 foot layer of cumulus strato cloud hanging inches above our heads. A Jerry Garcia reincarnate stumbled to the mic introducing the band with a parochial love reserved for the Grateful Dead in 1972 telling the congregated to “feel the love from Mother Nature as it swamps your body and leaves your finger tips feeding those around you”. Good start we say.
These psychedelic rockers stopped time in 1968 adding surf culture into the mix creating their own blend of hippie-psych-rock fusion and held their assemblage from first to last track. Perhaps not the most polished of performers, but then they play to perhaps not the most conscious of audiences, all can be forgiven as they uplifted as intended leaving us dancing in the mud one final time for Splendour 2022.
Despite the never ending tirade of online abuse, event organisers managed to lighten the mood with a very clever addition to their offical signage. The main stage facia consisted of two giant screens joined with a digital banner across the top. Normally plastered with the event name, a few keyboard taps change it to SPLENDOUR IN THE MUD for the final day. We found this amusingly appropriate though many other mud rats remained pissed off by everything else.
If Splendour was an atom, the nucleus is of course the music, but the electrons circling the central core are the atmosphere and people. The buzz surrounding this festival starts at the entry gate and only leaves when your eyes finally close at 2:00am each morning. There are lights and costumes and banners and tents and music. Of course music. In all forms, sounding from all corners, blending together harmoniously. One can’t help but tap a shoe, bob a head or just plain breakout in some funky tribal samba. And the people of this gathering are simply some of the nicest and friendliest and funniest we’ve ever met. Yeah we are all there under the same premise, but arseholes exist in any climate and Splendour is always an arsehole free zone. We’ve talked to hundreds of people. In the mosh, at the dunnies, in line at the bar. Around camp or just while walking. Their stories are the same. They love music they love festivals and they love us (the crowd). What a fantastic and idealistic little microcosm Splendour becomes every July in north Byron Bay.
Then there was the Splendour in the Grassers 2022 Facebook page. This modern day News Of The World had some of best information and content around and kept everyone amused for hours each night.
We meet 4 ladies from Adelaide who drove nonstop for 28 hours to be there. Of varying ages, they shared the wheel to arrive as the heavy rain started. They didn’t care. The youngest boasting “our camp is so flash it even has a swimming pool.” And Hayden from Arlie Beach. He drove solo for 16 hrs to be there. A young miner usually holed up for 3 weeks at a time, his partner had to cancel but he still made the trip such is the attraction of this festival. We shared a drink, dinner and table one night to discover we had more than just music in common. And the group of young girls camped next to us from Brisbane who greeted us with smiles every morning before we all conducted yesterdays post mortem. They were truly lovely.
Mark from Canberra who we met in a bar line soaking wet and drowned like a rat. With no wet weather gear he was caught short but didn’t give a shit. He was ecstatic and pleased just to have made it through the entrance gates without a 14hr wait. And Kasey and Gemma from Melbourne who we shared some time with at the VIP tent. They not only showed two old farts some hidden iPhone tricks, but shared Kasey’s secret red wine festival theory and the special correlation between effective and economic drinking. These guys were the best.
All of these folk took the time to talk, dine and drink with us, and they along with the hundreds more not mentioned, contributed just as much to our festival experience as the musicians.
Monday arrived along with little notion on how we would all leave the North Byron Swamplands before nightfall. 7am saw the first cars depart but they were the lucky ones parked on either high ground or the shoulder of the road. For the rest of us it was a matter of grouping together in gummies and shorts, grabbing a Red Bull or two, then strategising as best we could nursing 3 day hangovers and early onset diphtheria. With all the hi-vised Splendour officials busy in other paddocks, the masses rallied beautifully and systematically removed each car through sheer brute force. In the end we unlocked every vehicle from their 4 day mud prison, including the frightfully heavy Warren, to meander back through to the entry gates. We were unclogged by 11am, out off the gates by 12pm and back in Byron Bay by12:30pm for lunch. There we stayed another 2 nights to decompress, wash away layers of built up mud, and lament the end of another Splendour in the Grass.
So perched on the northern end of Clarkes Beach with a winter sun beating on our face, we reflected on the weekend. The biggest disappointment was losing Friday’s lineup. It cut the festival by a third and made a massive difference. The rain and mud and conditions were nothing we either couldn’t handle or wouldn’t do again. That’s the festival experience. You either embrace the chaos or sit cowering in a corner whinging on social media that the festival didn’t deliver the euphoric life changing experience you were promised. Well guess what, that’s life baby. Get used to it. Splendour was a hoot and an experience we’ll never forget. Yeah the weather was shit but can be on any occasion. The lines were long too. But we wait in queues at Woolies then sit in solitude in motionless city traffic. We would rather be in shin deep mud chatting to some tripped out hillbilly from Mount Isa than any of those.
There you have it. The truth of Splendour 2022. Perhaps not quite the shitshow everyone thought it would be. Now you can believe the sensationalised media reports from journalists back home pulling content from social media feeds, or you can believe us. The battle hardened foot soldiers entrenched behind enemy lines for days with only limes to trade and women to rescue. There’s talk that’s it for Splendour? No more, the organisers went too far. Rubbish. As Australia’s largest and most prestigious multi-day music festival Splendour will endure, with changes sure, but it will return and so will we.
That’s another SITG for us and one not likely forgotten. We hope you’ve enjoyed the stories and photos and can’t thank you enough for coming along with us. If you like our blithering please leave a comment below and share your thoughts. Otherwise, we might keep posting shit?
Until next time.
Peter & Lyndall
It will be obvious to many that backstage and close up images of the bands are not our own. With 50,000 attendees it’s very difficult to get up front, and we think they add to the story telling of our blog and supplement our own photos taken over the weekend. Just saying.