Live Review: Future Music Festival 2013 – Melbourne

Aptly for Future Music Melbourne was melting from the sort of heat wave that instantly raises smug ‘told you so’ grins from global warming campaigners. Free iced tea and green gold visors were gobbled up by the masses yet the free sunscreen was the real godsend as temperatures tipped 33c. The locals had come prepared with many participating in the traditional Australian summer fashion of covering as little skin as possible (incidentally, loving those vest lines). Yet while the Poms were outnumbered on the ground the late-night slots were dominated by acts from the motherland. We still come for the weather, they still look to us for culture.

With shade already at a premium perhaps the early afternoon slot was not the right time for Ellie Goulding. Sure, the tanning time was a welcome bonus but her absorbing set was rather like staring at a beautifully complex painting with the air-con turned off. Then her stunning blend of indie folk and electropop clicked with Lights the first hands in the air moment of the day. Goulding herself became charged, hurriedly taking off her see through chemise and writhing in time to Starry Eyed.

Then the first of the inevitable clashes and woe betide anyone who will ever have to explain why they saw PSY over Azealia Banks. Sure, she was 15 minutes late but did anyone seriously expect an apology? Subjected to levels of hype that would cripple many acts her urgent delivery and quick firing pottymouth sealed the deal and a few thousand sets of eyes were hers for the duration. With only a few mixtapes and a single EP to call upon her set seemed strangely familiar with filthy rhymes dripping in a self assured bravado that belied her years. Then the coup de grace of the viral Harlem Shake and the Samantha Cameron endorsed 212 to instigate bedlam.

Even for a homecoming The Temper Trap’s set seemed to dip under the radar until the enveloping splendour of Sweet Disposition. The same could arguably be said for Dizzee Rascal’s set as he struggled to find a balance between ‘new tracks the punters are yet to hear’ and ‘bona fide crowd-pleasers’. That he still found time for a selfie in front of how own crowd whilst nonchalantly slipping in an encore of Bonkers proved just how far he’s come and how much he can get away with.

Next door The Stone Roses could only rely on a repertoire aged by a generation. Initially a less than partisan crowd made for a less than assured performance as even Ian Brown was bereft of swagger. That was until the funk of Fools Gold and the sort of outro from John Squire that makes Guitar Heroes drop to their knees in reverence. After that the band hit their groove with the likes of She Bangs The Drums, This Is The One and I Am The Resurrection rounding off a home run of a reunion set.

Then the final battle of the Brit headliners. The safe opinion being a rejuvenated Bloc Party yet for those wanting something a little harder there was The Prodigy, in their own tent. Safe to say they did not disappoint with a relentless set that took hold and refused to let go. For those who still had energy to spare there was Breath, Omen, Smack My Bitch Up all delivered with a ferocity barely matched by the orgy of flailing bodies paying homage.

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