For those of you who have been under a rock, Big Gay Day is Brisbane’s biggest, gayest day. It is a summer street party and charity fundraiser situated in those streets behind the Wickham that anybody with a valley PO Box knows so well. BGD may not be Mardi Gras, but its still a great (Fabulous?) day out. This year’s line-up, headlined by Special Guests the Rogue Traders (and Marcia Hines) and some great local talent (DJ Duo the Double-up Bears playing ‘The Bears Upstairs’) screamed an event not to be missed from the word go.

You don’t need to be gay to really enjoy Big Gay Day. The music is quality, if eclectic. A major headliner or three, backed up by lesbian folk pop, and a random assortment of DJs inside and out. No matter what your sexual preference, Big Gay Day never fails to be an experience to remember.

We wandered over about 2pm for our first view and some daytime photos. The guy at the gate told us that they’d already had about 5,000 people through the gates. There was already a reasonable crowd in the dance spaces, outside and inside and the tail-gaters were already getting settled in the car park. We headed up with the tail-gaters to get some overhead shots, sharing space with a couple and their baby strapped to Dad’s back (tilted so the little tyke could see the show). An impromptu friendly handstand dancing contest broke out, the competitors showing all the signatures of a background in capoeira before they ended up collapsed on top of each other on the pavement laughing.

The heat drove us inside for a few hours to cool down. By 4pm, the entry line up stretched from the eastern front corner of the Wickham back up past the post and it didn’t look like it was in any hurry to move soon. God bless those press passes. Directly in front of us on the way in was a rather cute girl with her phone number on one shoulder and a running tally of ‘Connections made’ on the other shoulder (separated by gender). By the end of the day, the boys’ side was a blurred mess from the sweat and groping, and the girls’ side went to about 15. She was, however, coyly evasive about the particulars.

It was a constant struggle to get anywhere – the crowd (we heard 11,000 a bit later on, but at the time this article was complete, official tally had not been made) was massive. There were at least 150 people up in the car park looking down, half of them with bracelets on showing that they’d paid to get in, but had to head for higher ground above the sea of people.

We were constantly stopped by drunk or gurning camera whores who were begging to show off. Our passes said VIP, and we could see a VIP area over behind the DJ booth, so we squeezed over there from the bar, after half an hour of sweaty pressing we found out that no media were allowed into that particular VIP area, but we were directed to a private balcony instead. After another half hour of crowd grinding to get back, an emergency vodka stop at the bar and another 20 minutes of struggle, a climb up some death defying stairs, some directions that involved going down the stairs, up the stairs, around the corner, down the stairs, through the little grungy laundry thing, past the machinery and around to the left, we eventually found it.

Talk about VIP area! Above the crowd, we had an almost unobstructed view of the stage (ok, except for a light pole and speakers) and almost nobody else persevered to find the balcony. We had the place to ourselves for the most part with one or two other bar staff or drag queens on a smoke break for company. Apart from a few excursions (my slack photographer made me go every time!) to the bar for more Vodka, we didn’t move until about 10. We sat and watched the beautiful people, the drunks, the gurners, the make out sessions in the crowd, and a few people who were moving past ‘making out’ as such. Random unexpected nudity is a beautiful thing. The energy was spectacular.

When Marcia Hines hit the stage, the crowd’s insanity was impressive and Mega-Drag and DJ Ish’s awesome funk-inspired set kept the crowd at an impressive fever pitch for well over an hour. All of sudden however, there was a complete change in vibe and atmosphere. An inflated condom floated overhead, a slamming bass line slowly fades into nothingness and two barefooted drag queens sat cross legged on the roof of an old, dilapidated pub. Quiet descended not just a dull white noise, but actual quiet. Utter insanity erupts and then the Rogue Traders take the stage.

It was sheer madness. Take it from someone who normally spends the majority of Big Gay Out at the front of the main stage mosh, the crowd was loosing its shit on an industrial scale as Rogue Traders absolutely destroyed the house. The photographer and I both agreed that we would absolutely jump Natalie Bassingthwaighte (Natalie if you’re reading this, please email us!), my god she sang her gorgeous little bum off. The boys weren’t half bad.

In all seriousness, I’ve been a big Rogue Traders fan for a while, even before they got Natalie involved, I was a big fan of the boy’s work, especially their live performances. Seeing them play around the traps a few times had definitely put them well up there on my ‘favourite artists’ list, and Sunday night’s performance certainly did not disappoint.

I do however feel a little sorry for the poor DJ that had to follow them. Watching the crowd thin to half from the outside venue like they’d run out of booze had to be disinheriting. About then we ducked inside to catch a little of the Double Up Bears, who had a small dance floor thumping, before running away from the leather daddies who wanted to make me into a  glove puppet and home to fall down. Overall Big Gay Out was an officially top shelf day/evening. I just wish there was some way they could make the venue a little roomier for next years party. I’d really like to have enough room to get my camera up to my face somewhere other then the VIP balcony next time.

Scootah & Stroppywench