While the quasi-apocalyptic state of the festival industry looms, Golden Plains, the younger sibling of cult favourite Meredith, continues to inspire madness among its acolytes. If the manic desperation of ticket-begging and soul-bargaining on its Facebook group is anything to go off, the two-day festival is a fortuitous event that marks the Labour Day weekend. From alt-rock darlings to electrified weirdos—Golden Plains has it all. 

Local act Wet Kiss crashed in with their misfit glam rock masquerade, seductively jeering “Come here baby”. Teether and Kuya Neil were more than just your run-of-the-mill hip-hop act; the combination of searing guitar and gruff delivery accounted for more grit than usual.

The early evening treated us to Sun Ra’s Arkestra, who opened an impassioned yet intriguing window into the experimental jazz and be-bop of days gone by. Thelma Plum’s saccharine pop songs left much to be desired, though she will no doubt have her fans among the Triple J listenership. Miami’s Magdalena Bay didn’t quite live up to their reputation; a litany of outfit changes did little to compensate for the colourful yet toothless pop tracks. 

California’s Osees (formerly ‘Thee Oh Sees’), crashed in with a near-flawless speedrun through garage psych, a double-drum kit setup propelling listeners through all manner of carnage; precise pedal work gave every guitar tone a distinctly screeching quality. 

Kneecap’s face-melting rap-punk tracks will, for many, serve as a highlight of the weekend, spitting their anti-colonial diatribe with a healthy amount of malice, much of it delivered in their native Gaelic. 

Ella Minus and Sofia Kourtesis perhaps marked the weakest movement of the festival, with two unfocused performances. Kourtesis came in a bit too strong, inelegantly spinning Whitney Houston’s ‘I Wanna Dance With Somebody’ before ambling around some house cuts, without any thematic resonance; the sloppy surprise of Underworld’s ‘Born Slippy’ felt like low-hanging fruit.

Closing out the evening was a squelchy masterclass in live hardware electronics—acid extraordinaire, Lucas J. Hatzisavas, aka Reptant, who over the past decade has carved out an incomparably textural, writhing, reptilian sound. Whereas prior DJs perhaps hit the drama button a bit too hard, Reptant slowed the energy with patient, hypnotic dirges, pulsing into sonically adventurous climaxes, while being equally indebted to vintage sounds of Detroit electro and Rephlex-styled IDM. Closing out the set, robot vocals stuttered, “Golden Plains, Experience Positive.”

Melbourne group Acopia opened the Sunday morning with dreamy and forlorn trip-hop and downtempo, whereas the lap-steeled Latin folk displayed by Hermanos Gutierrez was nothing short of intoxicating. Grace Cummings’ folk-rock ballads failed to break the mould, despite a tightly rehearsed supporting ensemble. Philadelphia hip-hop royalty Bahamadia was spellbinding in her clarity of vocal articulation. Hip-hop live acts can be fickle, rapidly devolving to inscrutable shouting, so it’s revelatory for a 90’s MC to return with such precision. In fact, she sounded just like the record.

Bookers delivered punters again with that always sought-after late-afternoon dance slot in the form of Adriana, a local selector whose ear for eclectic world-music bangers is unmatched. Bookending each side of her DJ set, was a live performance of traditional Greek dancing, a sturdy nod to the heritage that Adriana touts so proudly. 

In hauling their own analogue mixing desk and insisting on utilising their own sound technicians, PJ Harvey and her ensemble perhaps made a critical mistake. Though the trembling staccato of the performance left one breathless, it was too quiet—legless even. Harvey’s prescience as an artist surely demands greater power than what was delivered.

Fontaines D.C. continued the Irish representation with their sly-nosed tirade of alt-rock tracks, evocative guitars so aptly summoning the rain-stricken streets of Dublin. Robin S perhaps rested a bit too much on her laurels, insisting that she has “been in the music industry for over 35 years,” only to sing a couple of songs and finish her set early. Still, one must respect the cultural fortitude of a song as ubiquitous as ‘Show Me Love.’

Hailing from Ghent, 2ManyDjs (aka Soulwax) were noteworthy for the maximum punch each of their edits carried, though their set structure was somewhat dissatisfactory. In a way, they fell for the same pitfall that so many sets do: we enter the theme park—the rush is exhilarating. Then, we just go on the rides for two hours.

In the wake of 2ManyDj’s excess, local darling Zjoso, aka Zachariah Amos Kouyate, showcased a vibey tour through Afro-centric dance music. House, amapiano, grime, jungle, and futuristic jazz were all there, standing testament to Kouyate’s erudition. 

In what was indubitably the set of the festival, CCL graced the Sup’ with one of the most maverick displays of selection. Building tastefully and patiently through minimal techno, bass music and house, CCL’s technique of multi-deck live sampling was teeth-gritting, though stargazing and emotional too. Exemplifying the mark of a truly great DJ in the ability to pick sing-alongs in a way that fits aesthetically within the cohesive whole, the selector’s interpolation of Todd Terry’s remix of ‘Wrong’ (Everything But The Girl) brought euphoric tears amidst morning haze.

Golden Plains and Meredith have seen changes in their booking staff over the past several years. Here and there, the growing pains can be felt. What saves the festival is the undeniable spirit of the organisers and the loyalty of their punters. You could never recreate this festival. It’s an outlier, an enigma in the festival landscape. It is important to remember that you can’t buy innovation. You can’t buy culture. You can’t buy fans. You can only buy the veneer of these things. Perhaps the rest of the industry will figure this out eventually.