It’s here.  It’s finally here. 
“The end of freaking summer...” 
There are now two things upon which I can rely to signal this conclusion for me.
< apart that is from a calendar >
One:
I can finally wear long pants and long sleeves again.  Rejoice.  No more shocking small children and elderly with my dazzling fish-paste whiteness.  No more being visually mistaken for a small-self-contained thermonuclear explosion every time I choose to surreptitiously disrobe.  << flash!! >>  No.  More. 
And two:
The thank-heavenly annual Good Vibrations Festival.  Last Great Music Festival of the Summer.  Most diverse.  Most jam-diddly-packed.  The most splendiferously brillig to find yourself about.  Always worth the wait.  Always worth the effort.  Always worth the recovery.

There was some concern about the traps that the line-up didn’t quite match up to last years.  I mean this time round there was one James Brown (Godfather of Soul) and all < and a more stellar headlining act you couldn't hope to attract > but where were the more well-known shake-your-anus second tier performers?  The Arrested Developments?  The Mylos?  The Lyrics Borns?  The DJ Formats?  The (unfortunately-lacklustre) Handsome Boy Modelling Schools?  Surely Z-Trip, Talib Kweli, FreQ Nasty, The Cuban Brothers could not compare?  Well.  Shut thy mouth naysayer-general.  What they lacked in brand-name recognition these artists MORE than made up for in energy, fervour and variety.  And if last-years effort had heretofore represented the pinnacle of my Festival attendings (and it had) – then this year’s endeavours were more than a match for it (and they were).

So:
Day started with a particularly boozy limo ride.  Exited on to the Belvoir Green on a pair of none to steady leg-icles.  A development not entirely unanticipated given the volume of alcohol consumed – yet a tribulation that would have to be surmounted nonetheless.  Had a totally bumper festival line-up to get through here peoples.  A man needed to keep his wits about him by golly.  Unfortunately the prospect of this maintenance took a turn for the worse when I discovered that pre-mixed spirits were only a dollar more expensive than beer.  << glug glug >>  Hmm.  Somebody please place a call to my place of employment.  I shant be able to walk/talk/see for a couple of days.  I’m sure they’ll understand…

On with the show:
First act of note was Ru CL.  The Jamaican/Australian MC (or ‘Ja-stralian’ as he termed himself) coming straight outta Melbourne.  Backed up by Katalyst on the decks.  Lucky dude.  That’s a decent kind of support-guy to have propped up in your corner.  As I was still finding my wits/legs/bearings I didn’t furnish Ru CL with the proper attention he deserved.  But what I did hear goaded my interest-nodules.  There were a couple of tracks I swore I’d heard before.  I will for definite anticipate his prompt return – on the upcoming Invada Stage Invasion tour (with Koolism et al).

Next up in the amphitheatre local-boy-done-good (or surely well and truly on his way to done-good-ery) Fdel.  Another cranking live set from the Perthite and his faithful band of Fdel-tones (I just made that name up..  I’m sure their correct moniker is far less gay).  The ever-chatty DJ Armee assisting him on scratches (a very busy boy today – still to take the stage with his more recognised act Downsyde).  They played a vast selection from the awesome Audio Fdelity release.  Instantly recognisable cuts such as “Rocksteady” / “Ladies and Gentlemen…”  Have managed to catch them on so many different occasions now.  They seem to support as many national and international touring acts as that other local Hip-Hopper Drapht.  Always worth a glance however.  Always worth a geek.

Following Fdel had a bit of a wander.  Re-familiarised myself with the downside to any large type of festival.  The major amount of time-wasteage spent at the end/in-the-middle/and-finally-bladder-burstingly/towards-the-front.  Not as bad as the queues at Breakfest but almost causing me to pop a kidney all the same.  One day Lord.  One day.  Someone will work out the optimum number of toilets for a massive crowd of people.  The same day they discover a cure for bird flu.  Man walks on the surface of Pluto.  Elvis is discovered on a kibbutz in Israel.  One day. 

So because of my toiletry dilemmas I arrived back in time to only witness a smidgeon of Bahamadia.  The notes in my phone say it all.  Next to her name I’ve written the simple phrase – “Hip hop”.  Apologies Bahamadia.  I mean no disrespect.  My shaky scattered mental recollections recall I WAS shaking my little white booty to your tunes.  It’s just I didn’t pause to consider what these tunes actually were.  I pinky-promise to check out your new album Good Rap Music.  Ok?  Although would you hold it against me if I listened to it at work rather than buying my own personal copy?  I’m a little strapped for dosh.

And finally I changed arenas.  Wandering out of the amphitheatre for the first time and up to the Good Vibrations stage.  It was time for local lads – Downsyde.  The boys churning out their usual blend of high-energy/crowd-pleasing numbers.  Some old favourites.  “Any one can do it..  there’s really nothing to it..”  Some slightly sprier material.   A good sized throng bopped about in appreciation.  Unfortunately the promotional PUMP water boys-and-girls acted as a major freaking distraction during this set.  Spraying all and sundry with those stupid super-soaker-water-cannons.  I do believe I hit one with a bottle.  << pow >>  For that I am conciliatory.  But as Sean Connery drawled in The Untouchables – “if he puts one of your boys in the hospital..  you put one of his boys in the morgue...”  Twas a righteously-escalated sense of an eye-for-an-eye PUMP man.  I returned your spray of water.  I just neglected to remove it from its container.  Plus I was wearing a light-coloured t-shirt and I didn’t want the ladies to gander at my boosies.  You had to pay!!

I digress:
On a day like this of course the problem is managing to cram all of the artists you wish to see into the viewing times you’ve been allotted.  I spent most of my day hovering between the Roots Stage and Good Vibrations main.  I had a brief mosey on over to the B-Bar to espy with interest the goings on of ex-Deee-Lite front-woman Lady Kier.  She was singing away whilst poured into some swimsuit/Wonder-Woman concoction.  Flanked on either side by two ginormous black transvestites.  All big faces/teeth/hands, garish make-up, sparkles and bulgingly-obvious-testicles.  Twas attention-grabbing.  If not a little scary.  I beat a hasty retreat back to Downsyde.

Roots Stage again.  There for Estelle.  Attractive little thing in her bandanna and short skirt.  An engaging performance from an artist with whom I was pretty darn unfamiliar.  Had heard the single “1980” about the place.  But wasn’t so sure about the rest of her debut album.  Still she made nice soulful background tuneage (and interesting-visual-frontage) whilst I took the chance to sit back and conserve my energy for the jam-packed journey home.

Then it was Talib Kweli time peoples.  A highly anticipated performance.  Quite a mob had gathered as he bounded out on stage.  Launched straight into “Old School” off the better-than-excellent Danger Doom album.  Off to a good start.  A lot of hype and expectation surrounded with his place on the bill.  High profile associations with the likes of Mos Def and Kayne West will do that for an artist.  He’s a rapper who keeps damn fine company.  Be it with the pairing of MF Doom and Danger Mouse on the Danger Doom project.  Be it with the aforementioned Mos Def as part of Blackstar.  I’ve always personally preferred my Kweli with a little bit of accompaniment.  As I was granted tonight – with his charmingly potty-mouthed partner of the evening none other than the resplendent Jean Grae.  The two worked brilliantly off both each other and the audience.  Rhyming.  Mugging.  Joshing.  Laughing.  Threw in a bit of “Can’t Keep Running Away...”, Kweli’s “Just To Get By...”  Some Jean Grae-James Brown impersonation << "...in the hot tub..” >>  Crowd participation.  A great act.  A great twosome.  Leading up to by far the greatest act of the evening:

Z-TRIP!!!
<< imagine me yelling that in feverish pitch of excitement..  stretching it out for as long as I can..  with perhaps a little adolescent catch in my voice somewhere towards the middle of it all.. >>
“Oh Lord won’t you buy me..  a Mercedes Benz…” Janis Joplin played on top of DJ Shadow’s “Bad Motherfucking DJ” refrain.  And we’re off to a flying mash-up start. If you’ve heard any of Z-Trip’s DJ mixes then you’ve pretty much heard these same songs piled on top of each other before.  Whether on Uneasy Listening or Live in Los Angeles - they’re all basically given a rumbling.  But that doesn’t compare to the fact that he’s doing them HERE.  NOW.  Before YOU.  From VINYL.  From 45’s. 

Oasis’ “Wonderwall” gets churned into Jurassic 5’s “Quality Control” which in turn morphs into AC/DC’s “Back in Black”.  Old party tricks.  But still genius.  He even plays a little something off his own creator album Shifting Gears.  Soup from J5 on “Listen to the DJ”.  Z-Trip’s contention being that Hip-Hop is Everything.  And Everything is Hip-Hop.  Like Rage Against The Machine.  Fat Boy Slim.  Jackson 5.  Naughty by Nature.  Curtis Blow.  Cream’s “Sunshine of your Love”.  Men at Work’s “Land Down Under”.  And of course Public Enemy.  << "Bring the Noise...” >>

He’s joined by MC Supernatural for the final part of his set.  The MC showing off his skills at freestyling.  Drawing the crowd into some audience participation.  Truth be told both memory and verticality challenge me at this point.  The damage had been done.  The first part of Z-Trip’s set an indelible scar in my mind.  Feel ALMST violated.  In ALMOST a good way.  I need a drink. 
<< gulp >>

As I clamber out of the amphitheatre for the last time for Good Vibes 2006 – into the arms of a waiting Bacardi and Coke – you can feel the sense of anticipation building in the air (either that or Norman Jay was playing some strange subliminal shit).  Wafting.  Ebbing.  Flowing.  Rising up into an audible chant as the dapper-suited MC emerges to wind us all up.
“James Brown…  James Brown…  James Brown…” we cry.
And:
“Are you ready for some super-dynamite star?”  we’re answered.

Out he comes.  Godfather of Soul.  In front of his big, big, big, shiny entourage.  Who the hell needed them?  Look at him go.  Patter.  Patter.  Patter.  He may be nearing the pointy part of a century but there’s still some goddamn twinkle in those toes.  Sure he doesn’t do the splits like he used to but give the bugger a break.  How can he still be doing all this at his age?  What gnarled and crusty demon did this bad motherfucker sell his soul too?  He leaves.  He comes back.  He thumps on the keyboards.  He has that infamous shiny jacket draped across his shoulders.  Then he’s off the stage.  Probably in the direction of the nearest medic with a charged up pair of defibrillators. 
<< "..clear..">> 
<< bzzt.. >> 
<< "..Good Lord!!">>
Or a shot of pure adrenalin.  Straight to the fucking heart.  << zap!! >>  To think that at the same time last year I was being bored shitless by Handsome Boy Modelling School.  How the wheels do turn.  The sound is fresh.  And loud.  And mightily cool.  The band and backing vocalists simply stunning.  The big guns song-wise coming out as the set drew towards the inevitable closing time.  Famous choruses along the lines of:
“Living in America…”
“I Feel Good…”
“Sex Machine…”
These were the ones I heard.  In between busying myself with dancing my sweaty ass off.  Keeping my insides doused with refreshments.  Merging with the opposite sex.

Then it was over and I could go home.  No after-parties for me.  No limo ride in reverse.  Straight back to Casa del Wang to let my poor imprisoned cat from out of his laundry prison.  Straight back to the packet of extra-strength sleeping pills to dull the restless rhythms in my brain.  What a day…

If I could have my time over again (and God I wish I could peruse this event twice) I’d check out some of the non-hip-hop beat purveyors in the B-Bar and Laundry.  I’d have definitely watched The Cuban Brothers (missed them twice now).  Caught myself a piece of FreQ Nasty.  DJ Marky.  Malente.  And I’d have for absolutely sure surveyed The Nextmen (who damnably clashed with my main man Z-Trip).  But at such a big and wide and diverse event these CLASHES are inevitable.  At the end of the day – whilst vaguely disappointed at what I’d missed – I was in no way disappointed with what I’d seen (unlike last year..  I’m talking to YOU Prince Paul and Dan the Automator!!!).  And having managed to catch Datarock at their show on Thursday prior..  so unlike others I didn’t feel their absence from the Perth leg so keenly.

Good Vibes 2006.  Another Festival gem.  I’m already counting down the sleeps til next year.  Bring that fucker on!!

Peace Out