Hercules & Love Affair/The Whitest Boy Alive
The GFC Is Affecting Australian Festivals, Part III of XXVIII
It’s hard to say if it was overreaching to try and follow a Daft Punk stadium tour by using the brand to run a festival celebrating your own 10th anniversary – after all, Modular have pwned the charts and the radio this year – but when slow sales turned the "festival" into a mere all-dayer in a giant tin shed, the potential for a fun day for the kids melted into a grotesque endurance trial.
Well, if you had any intention of doing the whole day, it would have - with Andy Butler’s and Erlend Oye’s projects back-to-backing in the late afternoon, the discerning punter (or, okay, sometime media scab) can have a charming hour and a half of twee Scando-dance and then fucking storming live disco. It’s a tragedy Hercules didn’t get a club show as well – there are basically three bears, two skinny girls with short hair and checked shirts, and Erlend Oye dancing around us, and then a swarm of angry, confused shirtless 19-year-old hets. Sure, they enjoy it well enough, but both the band and the core audience deserved a better opportunity to meet each other. Make a second album and come back, Love Affair.
We do try to stick around and catch some of the others, but Klaxons are a headache, and two songs in I realise this is the fifth time I’ve seen Cut Copy this year; by now you’d think they’d be so bored of the set they’d just start doing actual New Order covers – I’d stay for a whole set of that.