Drowning in dirt after flying north for the bummer.
Wednesday July the 20th ~
One last semblance of civility in Sydney: Swingin' at the Speakeasy for free from 10PM til about 2AM.
Thursday July the 21st ~
Thence up amongst the swollen Northern Rivers for a secret sporting charity event afterparty in Byron.
Friday July the 22nd ~
Pray for us as Splendour In The Grass returns for its thrice-postponed 20th birthday on the sodden soil of North Byron Parklands whilst a third wave of COVID and another East Coast Low descends. What could possibly go wrong?
Alongside other early casualties like Adrian Eagle, Mako Road, Surfaces, Tom Misch and now Hinds, the key artist I wanted to catch is already cactus, the Yeah Yeah Yeahs having cancelled due to 'health issues'. I will play their music daily in the Gold Bar regardless.
If yr headed and can access it you'll find me spinning in the gaps between main stage acts from midday til around 7, followed by the majesty that is Mario Speedwagon for the rest of the evening.
Saturday July the 23rd ~
I'll be backing up amongst the human wreckage at Splendour with another shift in the same location throughout the next day.
Simultaneously Jack Off will air on FBi Radio under the stewardship of judicious Jonny Seymour between 3 and 5PM.
Sunday July the 24th ~
The final day of Splendour In The Grass is beyond mortal measure. After spinning for what remains of the mud-splattered fancy-pants people in the Goldy all night there is only one place to be. Let's face it there has only ever been one place to be, the Tackle Shack.
After the utterly inimitable Waylon P. Flawstain III wraps up his final incendiary set for the weekend Mario and myself have massive white boots to step in to once the afterparty hits full swing.
It's a wild west affair once the authorities turn in and the crazed crowd leap the bar and climb the rafters, beyond anything that can be captured or described. It is the reason I return.
If you also heed that call we will dance, cry and sing together then brothers and sisters. That old timber hut by the swamp out past the boundaries of everything has always had mystical properties. Boy do we need them now. Lift us up 'o Lord, free us from this pestilence, famine, war and flood. Give us this one night free of the surly bonds of Earth.
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