Vogue Australia - 09.2019

(Steven Felgate) #1

150 SEPTEMBER 2019


VOGUE CULTURE


ALAMY GETTY IMAGES


engage in.” Even Silicon Valley sees big money in music festivals. Uber
partners with many around the world, Tinder now has a ‘festival mode’
for select events and at this year’s Primavera Sound in Barcelona, Spanish
car manufacturer SEAT teamed up with Google to create a groundbreaking
app to help people locate their friends using augmented reality.
It could be argued that Australia cares less about the commercialisation
of festivals and remains more true to the music. Being on the other
end of the world means multi-artist concerts are often the only way to
see large international acts in one place or take a punt on discovering
someone new. As a result, many local events have built a reputation on
music programming to the point line-up guessing has become part of
the hype. Look at Splendour in the Grass, Byron Bay Bluesfest,
WOMADelaide, Download Festival and the beanstalk-like growth of
St Jerome’s Laneway Festival. Starting as a summer party series in
Melbourne in 2005 and growing into a much-loved event that now tours
Sydney, Melbourne, Brisbane, Fremantle, Adelaide, Auckland and
Singapore, Laneway is known both as a barometer and a launch pad.
“We’ve gone from being a festival begging artists to play to one that has
become a strategic move for artists to do,” says co-founder Danny Rogers.
“To this day, we look back at some of our previous artists and go: ‘Wow,
they’re one of the biggest acts in the world now!’” Laneway’s bills have
featured Tame Impala, Lorde, Billie Eilish, Florence + the Machine, Flume
and many more well before the A-list parties and stadium sets. “I guess
we try to focus on the music first,” Rogers says. “We like to have fun, but
ultimately it is about the music and discovery, and you see that in our
crowd’s behaviour, too.” Laneway may not be an event to pose at, but it
has garnered a cult-like following without the need for hashtag gimmicks.
It is difficult to talk about the growth of Australia’s biggest festivals,
including Splendour in the Grass and Falls Festival’s recent $42 million
site redevelopment plans in Byron Bay, without touching on the recent
grey clouds – especially within New South Wales. At the time of writing,
a coronial inquest was underway into the devastating deaths of seven
young people. Festival regulations are under review and findings from
a study into sexual assault at festivals have also been released, resulting
in a number of recommendations around management, environment and
cultural change. “Obviously it’s an enormous concern for promoters and
the wider industry,” says Rogers, who is also on the board of the industry
body Australian Festival Association. “From our end, a lot of the findings
and feedback is really useful. Things like having X amount of doctors
onsite to deal with more than two or three overdoses at a time – those


kinds of situations that might have been unlikely but are things we now
just have to consider.” He adds: “I know most festivals are not cutting
corners on their medical or their security staff, and every festival has
policeoperations, but there are many reasons why it can get tricky.”
Collins notes how notoriously hard it is to do business in New South
Wales already, let alone when you add in the complications that can occur
with knee-jerk legislation, particularly made without consulting the
people it affects directly. She uses the impact of losing nearly 200 live
music venues in Sydney (due to lockout laws) as an example. “The music
industry is a fragile ecosystem, with many moving parts,” says Collins. “If
you knock out one really crucial element, the ripples are felt throughout
everything else. And that includes artists, management and festivals, too.”
She points out that lamenting the negatives might be doing more harm
too. “Each state has its challenges ... But sometimes talking about how
hard it is can make it worse and create a culture of panic and decimate
business confidence.” It’s an issue also echoed around the world – a
planned event to mark Woodstock’s 50th anniversary was marred with
investor issues and ended up being cancelled less than a month before it
was set to start. “I met [founder] Michael Lang at Lollapalooza last year,”
says Laneway’s Rogers. “He was so lovely, passionate and spirited. We
talked a lot about how he was trying to protect the [Woodstock] brand
and celebrate it, and the challenges he’d come across.” He adds: “From
where I stand ... there are similarities there. With any event, there are
two types of people: those with a clear brain for monetisation and
others who do it because it is culturally relevant.”
Half a century later, Woodstock’s legacy lives on in ways beyond the
floppy hats. The cinematic element might have been a disruption to Neil
Young when he was on stage, but it was a precursor to the way we
consume music now. Consider the impact made byHomecoming: A Film
by BeyoncŽ, a chronicle of her 2018 Coachella set; the complexity of BBC’s
Glastonbury live coverage (it sent almost as many staff as it did to the
Beijing Olympics); Triple J’s live festival streams or even Gen Z’s appetite
for concerts broadcasted via the Periscope app.
Would Jimi Hendrix be the idol he is today without the grainy
evidence of his legendary Woodstock-closing set? The music festival
may have moved on from a movement into a billion-dollar industry that
swallows music, fashion, pop culture, politics, tourism, mass
corporations, hospitality and tech. But has that adulterated the spirit of
Woodstock as it intended to be? “People still want the same thing,” says
Ponthieux. And that’s peace, love and music, no? ■

HEADLINEACTS


From music reigning supreme to money-making madness – a snapshot of the evolution of festivals over the decades.

1969 Jimi Hendrix
at Woodstock.

2005 Pete Doherty and
Kate Moss at Glastonbury.

2009 Kate Bosworth
at Coachella.

2019 Childish Gambino
at Splendour in the Grass.

2007 St. Jerome’s Laneway Festival
in Melbourne.
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