Hello heat, what have you done with the Argyle? Where did you take the “no collars, no entry” door mentality? And what exactly is an Ozfest? Sounds a little bogan for me, but then again we are in the Rocks, a spiritual home of sorts for the convicts. And I imagine they were pretty bogan. One wonders what they would have made of the all-Australian DJ lineup and the festival wear thongs/shorts/flag-cape dress code.

Patiently waiting in a queue, that’s kind of Australian.
Actually, that’s just kind of Sydney-like. So here we are at the door, waiting for Matt. Where’s Matt? Is that Matt? Maybe that’s Matt. That’s what I want to know. It’s hot, he’s got the guest list and we’re being told even before we get in to go to the upstairs bars because they’re less busy. So the event is about a third of the way through and things already seem a little haywire. Who knows what else could happen in the next seven hours?

It’s a case of so many questions, so much time in a bar queue to ponder them. We’ve chosen a grand day to get on it too – 40 degree heat to sweat out all that pride we feel for our nation, mixed with cheap drinks just in case the sun didn’t send us crazy enough. Although perhaps the Ozfest tag doesn’t refer to the bar selections. The name Bondi Blonde, who happen to be the major sponsor, conjures images of a topless Scandinavian, not so much an Aussie. I guess Narrabeen Blonde doesn’t really roll off the tongue. Austria sounds so much like Australia, so Red Bull is also prominent. You have to give it to that bull though, he’s a great mixer.

So we found Matt. And we found a set list. Unaware that there were actually five rooms in this place, a map would have been pretty handy. Even a sign at the entry to each room so we knew which one we were entering. Did you know the Argyle had a Reds Room? Or a Rum Room? We found those later, because first we find ourself in that beautiful, heel unfriendly, cobblestone courtyard wondering out loud ‘where’s the free BBQ?’ like some drunken zombies who snack on sausage sandwiches instead of brains.

Discovering this and letting the ladies decide with or without onion, I slip off to the bar for some cheap spirits. There’s that bull again, prominent as ever. So prominent in fact that all downstairs bars have run out of it. Now, no biggie, except if you’re advertising cheap vodka/Red Bull as the Argyle are, on TV screens around the place and just everywhere in general, then you just look a little foolish. Hush that fuss Howard, at least the bar staff are spraying everyone with water and keeping the fun about the place. And with no limit on the amount of drinks that can be ordered (you know how festivals can be with drink limits) the guy in front feels fit to order nine vodka lemonades. What a champion.

Enough time in the courtyard however. From here we descend into The Cellars, a club room underneath the Argyle. Being underground it’s the only room that doesn’t attract any natural light, and being such a bright day, we seek a little respite in here during Tydi’s set. Darkness makes people much more likely to get loose. It doesn’t attract any ventilation either, making things a little stuffy, but if you’re like me then you want the dancefloor sweaty anyhow.

Heading upstairs, we’re not really sure whether we’re in the Reds Room or the Rum Room. A map would be good. So would staff who know the venue. The pair of security staff we speak to give us differing answers, clouding the issue even further. Eventually we decide on it being the Rum Room, but there are plenty of people just like us, confused by the layout. Nevermind, the Gauge Breakers are turning it out, and over the course of the day this room provides the most consistently good tunes. Kinda odd room though – even though it’s broad daylight outside, the lights are on and startingly bright.

See, slowly we’re making our way around this Ozfest. Crossing over to the Main Room, which is upstairs in the regular Argyle building we catch a little of Black Angus’ set. Just a little because he ain’t really turning it out like that. The place is packed in anticipation of Cut Copy, who are playing after this, and Angus decides to drop The Beegees. The Beegees? Really? His set is a little too mainstream for our liking, and so we check out the Argyle Back Bar.

Normally the VIP area, this has been opened to the public today and it’s a cosy little room. The Bondi House DJs have a small crowd appreciative of their efforts, and the bar queue here is non-existent. It’s then time for Cut Copy in their DJ guise, and the Main Room is rather packed now. Fortunately, with our reviewer’s orange wristband we can sit in the VIP right alongside the DJs and away from the crush of the dancefloor. The orange section is just a whole other mindset. You can’t just come in here with the green wristband that everyone else has and have fun. Don’t do that. It’s much more chilled in here and a little at odds with our Red Bull persona. Another DJ on the bill who I won’t name mentions to me that Cut Copy aren’t really playing to the crowd. Fair call – everyone’s waiting for it to explode, just waiting for that song to lose it to, but it’s not forthcoming.

With the main building being overcrowded and underwhelming we split the rest of the ‘festival’ outside between the Cellar and the Rum Rooms. Both Van She Tech and Mark Dynamix play to a packed crowd in the Rum Rooms. Crookers seem to have plenty of fans; their Kid Cudi and AC/DC remixes draw plenty of applause. Downstairs, the Cellars are playing pretty standard fare electro from Ghetto Ruckus. Amongst it all what I do see are a horde of shirtless blokes flexing, and asking to be fanned. Fan you? I’m quite alright, thankyou.

It only makes sense to finish the night in the Main Room, where The Ashton Shuffle have been given the honour of closing things. Hilariously our attempts to enter the main building are stopped as the smoke alarm is ringing loud and clear. Turns out the smoke machine has broken during their set, and rather embarrassingly the whole event has to finish 30 minutes early as everybody is evacuated from the premises.

That’s that and little more needs to be said. There were some venue and organisational issues that held the day back. The music was average throughout, as few DJs seemed to really win the crowd over. Running out of Red Bull was a blunder, and having to evacuate the venue is just embarrassing. People power prevailed however. Everyone was real cool and friendly throughout, very fitting for the Australian celebration that Ozfest purports to be. So with that Aussie spirit coming through, we leave with a smile on our face and the staff of Ariel Books in our sights. They won’t know what to do with us.