My previous experiences of Future Musicʼs events (although over half a decade ago now) had me envisioning a somewhat splendour of character-filled, jaw-chewing, buffed-up blokes and chicks in heels scampering around dusty fields, potentially to be seen in the scene, rather than shaking their hips and grooving their feet to their favorite artists’ musical delights. I must admit, this somewhat narrow perspective had been passed aside by the time I got to the gate and rightfully so as I was to learn from my day reveling the Gold Coast way.
With little expectations and a lot of dancing juice the idealistic weather welcomed us to Doug Jennings Park deep inside the coastal township. The police presence once again proved that lots of blokes in blue suits and a video camera could deter a bunch of happy go lucky young adults to have smiles on their faces as they anticipate the rhythms and bass-lines that would soon run through their veins. Instead some were searched, lots were questioned and tax payers’ money went to those stuck to the capitalistic rule, who would probably be reveling in their takings later in the evening (as many including myself insist on believing).
Inside the conglomerate of vibrational frequencies that ran throughout the venue, you could see nothing but adults letting out their inner kid, ready to have a good time. The mixed bag of stereotypical humans gathered to shake, to groove, to enjoy a musical experience braced by some of the worldʼs leading electronic artists. There was no aggression, no cause for concern, no pretentiousness, just a sunny day of tents filled with lights and grooving people (and lots of eye-roll-to-back-of-head-double-time).
In the sparsely-filled Cross tent was where my dancing boots first found their segment of earth to grind into, where Paul Rose, AKA Scuba, although not drawing much of a crowd to his mid- afternoon set, had a small party of people recklessly absorbing his grooves. I couldnʼt help but close my eyes and feel the atmosphere of Berghain run through my blood as Scuba technoʼfied the small crowd into fits of frenziness and during breakdowns applauded the crowd, somewhat thankful that those present were getting right down to his tuneage. Sticking to the very short one hour time slot proved difficult for Rose, in this instance giving a few shakes of the head to who I assume was the production manager when told it was time to wrap up. In a cheeky move, he let a breakdown run until he could give us one very last taste of deep, rolling techno.
Post Scubaʼs thump-filled hour, Carl Craig brought the now even smaller crowd into a synth-driven, treble-filled spook expedition which although beautiful did lose some of the energy of the tent. 23 minutes into his set with only about 16 beats of bass expelled I wondered about his choice of journey, given that he only had but one hour with which to indulge our senses. With Aeroplane playing in the sunshine just a short stroll away my chords were pulled in that direction where there was once again a small music-loving crowd; guys in dresses and the likes of such. Aeroplane’s tastefully selected, bouncy, deep basslines and vocalised poetry definitely created an even warmer atmosphere than was already abundant.
Maya Jane Coles back in the Cross tent as expected pulled a larger crowd and her full-sounding, somewhat spooky rhythmic house had arms flying in the air and smiles on faces galore. Layered, textured and awesomely danceable, the tent heaved. To follow, Booka Shade and their enlivening performance continued the flow of freaky frenziness, starting with the somewhat newer ʻCharlotteʼ and running through their hits with seamless, energy keeping tactics. Running behind schedule a bit led Booka Shade to only play for about 45 minutes, but it was 45 minutes of blissful dancing that left me and my fellow revelers in awe. Itʼs nice to know that tunes like ʻIn White Roomsʼ and ʻBody Languageʼ still fit perfectly into the festival scene some 5 years on from their initial recording. Having them blasted out on a blissfully soulful sound system allowed me to hear another 30% of the tune which had been absent from my memory.
As the day became evening, my dancing fizzled out to walking about the grounds, wherever my lobes wished to settle. Erol Alkan had a small crowd reveling, MIA had a full stage of dancing folk getting ushered off the stage and the Chemical Brothers’ tent was a heaving mass of lasers and lights, tweaks and peaks and mind-boggling warped-ness…all a bit hectic for this groove monkey. So instead Hot Chip enthused for a spell, with the highlight of the three tracks that I stayed for being the female drummer who donned a t-shirt that said ‘LOVE’. Damn straight to that!
Leaving with LOVE imprinted in my mind was the perfect way to end a thoroughly enjoyable day that exceeded expectations and let dancing shoes that had been hung up for a while get right back into the groove. Thanks Gold Coast, thanks Summafieldayze and thank-you fellow revelers. See you next year for more fun in the sun. Over and out.
[Photography courtesy of Mingnomchong.com]