Everybody knows who he is – his general shitness traverses all boundaries of musical taste, clothing, and tattoo flash art, and this summer he’ll be at a festival near you. BURTON C. BELLEND sums up the usual suspects in chronological order.
30th November – Entertainment Quarter; Mark Ronson And The Version Players, Kraftwerk, Fischerspooner (Dj), Gorillaz Sound System, Sasha, Above & Beyond, Felix Da Housecat, The Orb + more
For many this summer, this will be their first interaction with the festival fuckwit’s charms. With chopped up jean shorts (‘jorts’), fleuro singlet, wayfarer sunglasses and those horrible Raben ‘club slippers’, he’ll be sure to be eating your pills, showing off his new and sweaty tribal tat and hooking up with your girlfriend – all at the same time.
After spending his teenage years as a washed up high school football hero – known for sculling beers as opposed to sniffing base (‘Cos he’s not a filthy alternative poof right?), he’s suddenly found his calling two years later as a testosterone fuelled pill head. Odds are he took off his shirt at the gate and he’s already had five of them – his status as a man will only mean he needs another ten.
While you’re trying to get a sick position to catch Kraftwerk rock some shit about cars, the future and calculators, he’ll be violently jostling past you to see the Potbelleez. When The Orb are on playing their fucked up early 90’s comedown electronica amidst a haze of MDMA induced sweat, this guy will be complaining about how he lost his bag of rack during Dirty South’s set. He’ll also be the guy with his mates yelling ‘Til I Come!’ whilst throwaway act ATB are playing on some dingy stage to a crowd of say… no one. By the day’s end you’ll find him raving way too hard during a chilled and weird Gorillaz Sound System set before he disappears to Oxford Street to mong the night away.
6th December – The Domain Feat Crowded House, Sneaky Sound System, The Vines, Cut Copy, Gabriella Cilmi, Pnau, Died Pretty, You Am I, Karnivool, Blue Juice, Mercy Arms + others)
If you didn’t think the festival fuckwit was already overly patriotic, wait until he gets an ‘all-Australian’ day to himself. Considering he’s just gotten back from a week-long gurn at Schoolies, he’ll be ready to drink himself stupid in the fifteen kilometre long line to get in. He’ll start off his day by dropping his mid-arvo kebab on your shoulder as you indulge in a guilty-pleasure of a rave at Pnau.
Later on, you’ll be busting to go for a slash, and you’ll run into him with his girlfriend holding hands at Gabriella Cilmi – he looks disillusioned, sweaty and overly-buckled. He’ll have an embarrassingly public fight with her and run off to see The Vines. As you kick back and check out Died Pretty (‘cos Pitchfork told you so), the festival fuckwit will be seen climbing onto the big festival circus top nearby, whilst being pelted with bottles as he is subsequently berated by security guards and angry punters for fucking up the band’s set. If you see him at Cut Copy, avoid his sweaty armpits, high fives and requests for pills.
BIG DAY OUT
23rd January – Sydney Showgrounds; Neil Young, Arctic Monkeys, The Living End, The Prodigy, Sneaky Sound System, My Morning Jacket, Pendulum, Bullet For My Valentine, TV On The Radio, Simian Mobile Disco + much more
With the country’s biggest travelling festival comes a myriad of festival gimps and gronks. From the patriotic and way-too-pissed Australiana pricks and the aforementioned ‘sports gurners’ to time-warp pop-punk casualties. And with over 40,000 punters at each gig, you’re bound to run into one.
As the festival grows more popular every year and the festival’s wide palette of acts expands, festival fuckwits from all over will seemingly join the fun. From ‘sports gurners’ psyched to see the Prodigy and Pendulum, to the pretentious indie pundits ‘frothing’ at the thought of TV On the Radio, you’ll be hard pressed to avoid him – that’s if he even makes it past the sniffer dogs at the gates. Much to your chagrin, he’ll hide his buds and MDMA up his clacker and won’t get caught.
While you and your kooky emo girlfriend are looking forward to seeing Bullet For My Valentine, he’ll be taunting you for being a ‘goth’ whilst forgetting he’s wearing a pair of Cheap Monday’s jorts like they’re Richard Simmons’ hotpants. You stroll over to see My Morning Jacket to kick out some Southern fried jams in the mid afternoon, and there he is again, throwing bottles and wondering why the Arctic Monkeys aren’t playing yet. You’ll see him a bit later moshing his electro smack-out off to The Living End.
Before you stock up on those last few beers at the bar before Neil Young, the festival fuckwit (in all his gurning glory) will pull you up asking for gum or a ciggie on his way to see ‘Sneaky’. He’ll then piss you off on the train ride home, as his comedown seems to be contagious. You try ignoring him by reminiscing of Young blasting some Crazy Horse shit during ‘Wrecking Ball’ instead.
With All Tomorrow’s Parties, Field Day and Good Vibrations also coming up, there’s sure to be a few more instalments of the festival fuckwit’s adventures….