On Saturday I made a pilgrimage to the Hunter Valley to attend my third Funk N Grooves Festival. It’s a festival that’s been in a state of flux since I first attended, an event which seems like it’s ever changing in attempts to find its feet. And at its new home next to Tyrell’s Winery, I think it’s getting there.
The new venue gave us all plenty of space to spread out with our picnic lunches and fold-up chairs. It also made it much easier to get a drink. You might remember my complaints last year about the incredible queues, but this time around the organisers got it right. With separate lines for wine and beer/spirits, no one was really left waiting too long. The drink was flowing, but the limits on what we could buy and the ever watchful security staff ensured no one got too obnoxious.
The food too was a marked improvement on last year. I devoured my cumin dusted calamari and the gorgeous chunky chips with rosemary salt. If only all festival food could be this good!
But these kinds of shows are all about the music, and this year the event delivered more than ever before. Bands played on two stages for a good nine hours, several hours longer than in previous years. The kind of music the event hosts is also evolving, perhaps with the involvement of new sponsor Triple J. While earlier festivals focused on blues and roots, now we see more rock and hip hop. I suppose this is what the kids want; there were definitely plenty of enthusiastic fans down by the stage, but I preferred the artists we were served in years gone by.
That’s not to say there wasn’t some brilliant music. I couldn’t wait to see Washington, and she didn’t disappoint. The crowd was attentive when she sang her most poignant of ballads, and rapturous when she treated us with a playful cover of The Divinyls “I Touch Myself.” The singles “Rich Kids” and “Sunday Best” also went down a treat.
I was also really impressed by The Bamboos. I didn’t intend to see them, but when I heard their music from across the other side of the venue I just had to investigate. They delivered the funk I was craving with their deep saxophone grooves and seductive vocals.
As the penultimate act, Gyroscope also delivered. It didn’t take long before lead singer Dan Sanders was crowd surfing, held up by the ardent fans as he belted out the first tune of an energetic rock set. A cover of Aussie rock classic “Beds are Burning” was a real highlight, as was the feel-good new single “Baby, I’m Getting Better.”
But for every band that wowed me, there were a few that fell flat. Red Ink seemed like pale Cure imitators rather than an exciting new act, and while the throng near the stage lapped up British India, their brand of rock seemed uninspired to me. Resin Dogs and Urthboy may have higher profiles and slicker sounds than last year’s urban act Dialectrix, but it just seemed like hip hop by numbers from where I stood.
Of course, all of this is horses for courses. And with two stages, a festival like this encourages you to bounce around to see what revs you. However, the problem with delivering a line-up so eclectic is that while you have something for everybody, you don’t have a whole lot for anyone. Personally I was disappointed to see the blues and roots music edged out by rock acts; this approach made the festival feel like so many others.
That’s a real shame, because this isn’t a festival like the rest. It’s in one of the most beautiful parts of the world, and it runs like a well oiled machine. It’s been constantly changing since I began to attend, and I’m sure we’ll see more tweaks next year. I feel like it’s still trying to find its identity, but it’s well on its way.
Image source: own photos