Sugar Mountain: duelling violins, Hot Chip spruce Springsteen & party that ends with Royal Headache

Sugar Mountain: duelling violins, Hot Chip do Bruce and a party so good it ends in a Royal Headache

“God-like? Me?” Sugar Mountain Festival at Victorian College of the Arts, Melbourne. Dirty Three perform on the Dodds Street stage. Warren Ellis. Photo Stuart Walmsley

Egyptian Kaftan on, sauv blanc wine for the train, four full-strength cold and flu tablets to ward off a nasty head and chest cold, a banana, a Pink Lady apple, a spring in my step.

Ready.

I passed a violinist out the front of The Arts Centre on the way to the bottom of the summit and reflected that — as competent as he was — he would be the third best fiddler I’d see that day. But we’ll get to Warren Ellis and Tamil Rogeon later.

I checked out some Florian Kupfer on a hot tip from Beat’s 100% Editor Tyson Wray. He wasn’t wrong. It was slamming, friendly house and disco, much like Tim Sweeney and Tom Trago’s existential disco later. NB: Bexta did not appear on the Boiler Room stage.

‘Erb enthusiast. Sugar Mountain Festival at Victorian College of the Arts, Melbourne. Tom Trago performs in the Boiler Room. Photo Stuart Walmsley

I hate the word *incendiary. The way it looks, the way it stumbles off the tongue. But Royal Headache were incendiary and are incendiary. It’s the best descriptor. “Banter banter bantam roosters,” knot-browed singer Shogun spat at one stage. “It feels like I’ve been up here for three or four hours. Faster faster,” he urged his band. The quartet played Small Faces garage rock tight and up close: My Own Fantasy, Another World and “a dancey tune for ya” Distant and Vague. “You belong down in Melbourne” he bellowed in Garbage. Meta dada. Terrific stuff. I’d watch a biopic about Shogun. But only if he starred in it, 8 Mile style. “I’ve got family here today. Hi Dad,” he said. They dropped the nihilism for Carolina, Shogun crooning out his torch song sitting down, pooped from all the Oh What A Feeling backwards high kicks. Carolina provided a tender touch just when the sun-scorched crowd needed it. “Can someone chuck us some piss?” he asked. “This is the last song, it’s not a very good one but it’s easy to play. Life sucks.” Here is what he said in a Triple R interview he did right after the show: “I wanted High to be really ugly and saccharine and awful, a failed romantic record that was really cheap...and people ended up connecting with it because love is really demeaning.”

* tending to inflame the senses.

Crowds crowd in. It was never too crowded. Sugar Mountain Festival at Victorian College of the Arts, Melbourne. Photo Stuart Walmsley

Empress Of was super into it. “I can’t believe we’re playing in Australia, I’ve only been doing this for less than two years,” the LA-via-Honduras local said, wonderfully overwhelmed by the emotion but not the moment. Her trio had it. Real name Lorely Rodriguez, she started her set with a gushing new song, a brave move. Then she jabbed at her effects board and swung her hair around like Tina Turner. Kitty Kat caused trap arms, How Do You Do It was a skipping rope banger and Water Water a burning sensation, rushing at us in spouts. Big congratulations to the aural engineers who got it right all day and night long, there was no sound bleed, no bleeding ears, no Bleeding Gums Murphy (RIP).

“God-like? Me?” Sugar Mountain Festival at Victorian College of the Arts, Melbourne. Dirty Three perform on the Dodds Street stage. Warren Ellis. Photo Stuart Walmsley

Those loveable Lotharios Total Giovanni wore white midriffs and lattice pith helmets and looked very “Game Blouses” meets Professor Calculus. “We’ve got a bogus national holiday coming up this week, I wanna take a moment to acknowledge the land we’re on, it belongs to the Boon Wurrung people,” said Frankie Topaz. They kept the funk filthy and Prince-like on Paradise. The vocals need some finetuning though. Sound first, style second.

Courtney Barnett can’t stop, won’t stop. Her band could play songs like History Eraser, Dead Fox and Small Poppies during rapid eye movement. They ripped through new ramen noodle anthem Three Packs a Day and MILK! Records odd job Canned Tomatoes (Whole). Right now they’re operating with a hive-mind. Barnett and co finished with Pedestrian At Best. I’ve been trying to come up with a witty link between the word pedestrian and the fact Barnett was playing on the Dodds St Stage for 20 minutes. Nope. Got nothing. I blame the impossible-to-leave versus set between Hot Chip and Tim Sweeney at The Gasometer after-party put on by I Oh You. Today I feel like I owe them a pound of flesh. Worth it though.

Noodling around. Sugar Mountain Festival at Victorian College of the Arts, Melbourne. Courtney Barnett performs on the Dodds Street stage. Photo Stuart Walmsley

The choice between Dirty Three and Harvey Sutherlandand Bermuda was a tough one. Duelling violins. Dirty Three’s tumultuous rhythms and boat-rocking (not yacht rock) movements (“songs” feels wrong) properly grabbed the crowd’s attention and Ellis’ monologues, as ever, were on point. It’s possible to have an epiphany every few minutes at a Dirty Three concert. Looking around at snogging couples and a totally appropriate moon rising, it was nine o’clock and all was well.

We then ducked over to see the last 20 minutes of Harvey Sutherland and Bermuda, a man who’s (stage) name I’ve written approximately two dozen times in the last month. When you’re hot you’re hot. Mike Katz’s sensible, lounge-but-not-louche house gave us the 4/4 beat we craved after Dirty Three’s séance. Sutherland’s go-to violin homme Tamil Rogeon (The Raah Project) gave Bermuda extra spice, a punk twist to the Iced Vo Vo grooves Sutherland brings on the daily. Drummer Graeme Pogson (GL) kept it bopping. Coincidentally Sutherland bopped to every kickdrum when he spun sick choons at the after-party. Simultaneously suave and dorky, Australian house music has a new white hope.

“I am the Lizard Queen.” Sugar Mountain Festival at Victorian College of the Arts, Melbourne. Dirty Three perform on the Dodds Street stage. Warren Ellis. Photo Stuart Walmsley

Sensory promised to be an immersive eating experience and mostly came through. Cut Copy’s prepared DJ set would have been more effective if they actually spun tracks live in the room with us though. The disconnect left a funny taste in the mouth. The food on the other hand was present and correct, particularly the fleshy, pulled beef by Bomba. The four course meal began with a clam-shaped rice cracker, topped with tomato, manchego and jamon and said sayonara via a fat straw tube of mousse (chocolate, not hair) jelly, foamy stuff and popping rocks. It was a neat circuit breaker and Tin and Ed’s cerulean blues and bloody reds gave the irises some architecture to dance about.

I missed Formerly Viet Cong while at Sensory but my plus one (Jason Saultry, real name) stepped up and texted me “Viet Kong took the prize in my opinion.” This earned him a please-extrapolate-on-this-for-the-purposes-of-my-review text. His reply: “Formerly Viet Cong took a chainsaw to rock convention and used the wreckage to build something alien but beautiful.” Nice turn of phrase, keep that up and I’ll be his coattail riding plus one soon enough.

It was up to Hot Chip to bring the party home and with the ever-expanding arsenal they have, it was a cinch for the always-bookish-always-grooving London outfit. Flutes made Daniel Askill’s racy pictures shake on the wall and mighty mouse Alexis Taylor said a sweet goodnight to us as they played Bruce Springsteen’s Dancing In The Dark for one of the last times before they retire the song from their set. Pathos with punch.

Alexis Taylor doing his taxes. Sugar Mountain Festival at Victorian College of the Arts, Melbourne. Alexis Taylor of Hot Chip performs on the Dodds Street stage. Photo Stuart Walmsley

Great Bits I Missed Due to Disheartening AM Househunting Expedition:

Kate Tempest, everyone said she was incredible. A friend reported back “She did a 12 minute spoken word rant thing that made me feel terrible about how I’m part of the problem. But she ended on a positive note.”

The NONATAK premiere was a NONAVENT due to technical difficulties. So everyone missed this. Please mansplain.

Dancefloors are where you make them. Sugar Mountain Festival at Victorian College of the Arts, Melbourne. Photo Stuart Walmsley

I Spotted, Then I Jotted:

Adalita cutting a sharp figure. She wears shades as good as Bob Dylan any day/night.

A woman called Lionel Richie picking up free Wrangler jean shorts. She then danced all night long.

Lord Fascinator DJed like Admiral Ackbar. NB: he didn’t play trap.

Opals centre Liz Cambage keeping herself nice and not getting in trouble with the national women’s basketball team.

Client Liaison’s Monte Morgan looking more archetypally ‘80s Australian than Pro Hart courting Denise “Ding Dong” Drysdale. He even jumped on the stage during Harvey Sutherland and Bermuda’s set to throw barbecued shapes. Bring out the shrimp.

Michael Gudinski moving and shaking in the Sensory restaurant, charming everyone while holding three conversations at once. Classic Gudders.

“Timmmmmmaaaaaay.” Sugar Mountain Festival at Victorian College of the Arts, Melbourne. Tim Sweeney performs in the Boiler Room. Photo Stuart Walmsley

I finished the night walking the wrong way home from The Gasometer at 3am eternal for 1.5kms then got my bearings and sobered up. Bad news: the cold is back in full force, I’m speaking Phlegmish and my co-workers are giving me the “You probably should have stayed home and not come in to infect us, Michael” look. Wouldn’t change a thing though.

Thanks for letting me be a Sherpa at another 4 star Sugar Mountain.

All pictures were taken by my learned shooting buddy Stuart Walmsley.

Thanks to VCA Southbank, Mushroom Group, the Sugar Mountain crew Pete Keen, Brett Louis and Tig Huggins and everybody who went. Not one d!ckhead.

Mountains of praise coming straight from here @joeylightbulb

Coming down the fountain. Sugar Mountain Festival at Victorian College of the Arts, Melbourne. Photo Stuart Walmsley

Originally published as Sugar Mountain: duelling violins, Hot Chip spruce Springsteen & party that ends with Royal Headache