It’s the Tuesday after Melbourne Parklife and my brain is still scattered. I haven’t slept properly the last few nights and my ears are still ringing from the music. I’m piecing the day together in my mind, and from what I can remember, I had a good time.

My friends and I always drink way too much before going to music festivals. The whole morning consists of breakfast and beers. You want to be buzzing before you enter the gates. Ready to tear the place apart. Socially lubricated enough to throw your arms around and dance like you don’t give a shit what anyone else thinks. I think my mates and I achieved this and then some.

Arriving at around 2 pm at the Sidney Myer Music Bowl, I was briefly pestered by a blonde lady with a microphone from Seven News who was standing by a TV crew. She was obviously after a Parklifer’s comment for the evening broadcast. I didn’t stop to talk. I was blind at that stage. If I had have stopped, I probably would have tried to turn the conversation around by telling her I studied journalism too and then asking her where she went to university. I have a tendency to try and mess with strangers when I’m drunk. But it’s all in good fun.

After making our way past an army of police and sniffer dogs, I was frisked down at the gate and allowed in (I suppose they have to frisk people down, right? They might catch the odd person with a bottle of vodka but people are sneaky. If there’s a will, then there’s a way). From here I snaked my way through a colourful sea of people with tight pants and hipster hairdos until I arrived at the Atoll stage to catch Little Dragon. I’ve been a fan of these guys ever since the Gorillaz gave them a nod of approval. Their silky smooth li-fi electronica was cast over the crowd like a hazy veil. It was a nice way to ease into an increasingly intense day. Swedish-Japanese vocalist Yukimi Nagano wore a yellow dress and narrated her band mates’ thumping grooves with a delicate croon. The Atoll stage was also confined up the back of the complex, shaded in trees, giving the whole performance a very chilled atmosphere.

If Little Dragon eased the crowd into the spirit of things, then a re-formed Death From Above 1979 were there to kick start hearts and get pulses racing. I was never going to miss their performance. They were the main reason I bought a ticket to the festival. The duo’s one album, You’re a Woman I’m a Machine, is full of dance punk that can entice hip-shaking one minute and headbanging the next. I’ve still never heard a band quite like them to this day.

So how did DFA1979 fair in a live setting? Well, I suppose you could say that if a majority of the lineup were there to keep the teeny-boppers happy, then DFA1979 were the black sheep amongst the pack, turning up the distortion to eleven and satisfying those with an appetite for something a little grittier, rockier and dangerous. With Sebastien Grainger on vocals/drums and Jesse F. Keeler covering bass/synths/backing vocals, the duo lived up to their reputation for starting riots by whipping the crowd into a sweaty, heaving, dancing and flailing mess within minutes. It was a glorious sight. I managed to get right amongst it and caught myself singing the lyrics to the likes of `Turn It Out’, `Blood on Our Hands’ and `Romantic Rights’ out loud. I didn’t give a shit if people heard me; I was having a great time. Their fuzzy rock n’ roll was a nice contrast to the polished beats dropping at other stages. I walked away sweaty and smiling. They were the highlight of my day.

My afternoon was spent wandering between stages, catching bits and pieces here and there. I forked out to get a couple of beers, which were $9 each (you only spend that amount at music festivals, ey? Anywhere else someone asks you to pay $9 for a beer and you stare them down like they’re a mad man. Unless they’re asking that price at like some totally exclusive and posh nightclub, in which case I’m not going to be there anyway because my shoes have holes in them). I danced amongst the masses to Mylo within the belly of the music bowl (Sahara stage) before ducking back to catch the Spanish inspired electro beats of Crystal Fighters over at Atoll, and then finished up with a healthy serving of Santigold. Each brought a different yet distinct musical flavour to the festival, adding to its intoxicating stew of sounds that wafted over the crowd that day.

My friends dragged me along to see the Streets at around 7 pm. I didn’t really want to go at first but I caved into peer pressure. In retrospect though, I’m quite glad I did see them. I’m not really into rap music but I recognised quite a few of Mike Skinner’s rhymes and awkwardly mumbled along to the bits I could remember. Everyone around me seemed to love it. I must admit Mr. Skinner was a charismatic chap. He knew when to chat to the crowd and prompt them to sing along. Props to him. It was also apparently the Streets last ever performance in Melbourne too (or at least that’s what I thought they said?) so the guys did their best to really work up the crowd, even encouraging the people who climbed trees around the Atoll stage to have a dance. And from this point on things get a bit blurry…

I finished the day over at the Cave watching Simian Mobile Disco. I can’t really remember much of this. I do remember lots of lights, heavy techno and a lot of dancing. My friends said I had a good time. So I’m going to be a good friend and believe them.