The local acts that almost upstaged Kraftwerk at a mud-soaked Meredith

“Don’t write about the weather,” my new friend Caz urged me as Kraftwerk were about to take the stage at Meredith. “This festival is about the music, the atmosphere, the people. If the conditions are terrible, that just adds to the experience.”

“This place is really special,” added Jono (the pair met here five years ago at his first festival and her 20th, and were married by the time of his second). “If the rest of the world could be a bit more like this, it would be so much better.”

Matthew Baty, frontman of English metal band Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs, couldn’t believe the heat.Credit: Richard Cliford

They’re right on all counts, but the weather must get a mention all the same. There was just so much of it.

The hot, dusty winds were blowing hard across the Golden Plains when the festival kicked off on Friday afternoon, and Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs (Pigs x 7, for short) couldn’t quite believe it. Back in Newcastle upon Tyne it was snowing, frontman Matthew Baty noted in wonder, though their full-throated and somewhat camp take on metal would surely set a fire in any room they played.

By the time Friday night’s headliner Caroline Polachek took to the stage, the swelter had given way to a cool change and light rain.

The American indie darling mesmerised the packed Supernatural Amphitheatre with a set that had elements of dance-pop, hard-edged rock and ethereal techno-opera. She commanded the stage from the second she appeared, wrapped in gold, dancing theatrically and striking poses that looked like they had come from the silent movie era. But from the first notes of opener Welcome to My Island to the last an hour later, it was all about her voice – enigmatic, soaring and frequently deployed as a pure instrument to add to the soundscape rather than to deliver anything as tangible as lyrics.

Caroline Polachek wowed the crowd with soaring vocals and dynamic dance moves. Credit: Richard Clifford

Polachek and her bassist Maya Laner had earlier made a brief appearance as backing singers for Alex G. It’s that kind of festival, and that kind of place. Polachek compared the venue – a natural bowl in the bush, with a shingle-clad stage – to a Shinto shrine she had visited in Japan recently. Both were deeply spiritual places where many beautiful things had happened over a long time, she said, before offering a benediction of her own: “I hope you have the most beautiful night of your lives.”

Souls of Mischief brought the love too, their jazz-tinged old-skool hip-hop evoking the sounds of Jurassic 5, De La Soul and A Tribe Called Quest. The Californian outfit, celebrating their 30th year in action, led the crowd in chants of peace and U-N-I-T-Y, and paid tribute to the pioneers of a genre of music that is now, remarkably, 50 years old. Many of the trailblazers had not, they added, lived long enough to see the milestone – or long enough, period. But that brief note of regret aside, theirs was a set full of life and bounce.

There was more than a hint of peak-era Hunters and Collectors about Melbourne band Floodlights, with frontman Louis Parsons dressed in a worker’s singlet and Sarah Hellyer’s trumpet bolstering some of the more stadium-ready tunes. Hunnas never had a female harmonica player like Ashlee Kehoe, though, and if Floodlights show there’s still an appreciative audience for Ozrock even among Meredithians, they’re also proving it’s possible to put their own invigorating spin on it. They were one of the outstanding acts of this festival.

The rain really came down overnight into Saturday, took some of the flimsier tents with it, and turned the entire site into a quagmire. Much of Saturday was about taking shelter and savouring the slow build to Kraftwerk, whose self-titled debut album was released in 1970 and whose sole original member, Ralf Hutter, has managed to slot new members into the four-piece line-up like so many computer upgrades (not even the death in 2020 of co-founder Florian Schneider could shut down this endlessly rebooting system).

Floodlights, fronted by singer-songwriter-guitarist Louis Parsons, were hugely impressive.Credit: Richard Clifford

The road there took us via the free-form sonic looping of Japanese DJ Kuniyuki – whose ultimate party trick was to sample a crowd singalong and incorporate it into a dance tune built on the spot – via perky local dance-pop outfit Telenova and Canadian indie synth-and-guitar band Alvvays (whose song Archie, Marry Me inspired a singalong of its own).

As night set in and the rain began to ease, Coburg’s Cable Ties came on like a three-person demolition squad, erupting in a squall of fast and furious playing that hearkened back to the politically loaded sounds of the Slits and X-Ray Spex in the late 1970s. But just when it seemed they might get stuck in a retro-punk groove, they switched it up into the psychedelic-tinged wig-out of Tell Them Where To Go.

Guitarist-singer Jenny McKechnie was a hugely dynamic presence out front, screaming, poking her tongue out comically, rolling around on her back, playing the guitar behind her head and finally handing it over to the crowd on an extended Time For You finale.

Coburg’s Cable Ties played an incredibly powerful set just before Kraftwerk came on stage.Credit: Richard Clifford

They were a tough act to follow, and when Kraftwerk emerged to a night sky finally clear of rain, they were exactly as expected: dispassionate programmed tunes, superb visuals, four identically dressed (and illuminated) men behind four identical (and illuminated) keyboards.

Only occasionally did the vibe rise from background to boogie-down, but it was still a vital history lesson for anyone interested in the origins of the kind of music that would later fill the wee hours of this bowl in the bush.

Kraftwerk, pictured at their Margaret Court Arena performance earlier last week. Their show leans heavily on mesmerising visuals.Credit: Martin Philbey

After the Germans left the stage, Sydney dance duo Sneaky Sound System delivered a terrific set that built the perfect bridge between the live music and the hours of dance tunes that were to come until sunrise on Sunday, when the damp and dirty pack-ups began.

Caz and Jono were right. The mud will wash away, but the memories of Meredith 31 – a smorgasbord of dance, rock, alt country, hip-hop and, above all, good times – will linger.

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