The people behind Groovin’ the Moo appear to have a noble cause in mind by bringing a BigDayOut-esque line-up to the more regional outskirts of Australia. This year hitting up places like Bunbury, Maitland, Townsville, (desolate and rural) Canberra and of course Bendigo, many Groovin-the-Mooers were going have to brush up on their map reading skills!

With the release of this year’s line-up they proved themselves as a big-act festival – a welcome antidote to the lack of music coming in after a great summer. The mostly Australia talent were of international proportions. With Silverchair, Empire of the Sun and many more on the bill, this abundance of localness had a nice tall-poppy-syndrome quality about it. It seemed to fit the whole vibe of the festival- that down-to-earth, tinnie-drinking, h’yagoin? friendly vibe.

One usually arrives with a vague idea of how it’s going to play out. First, you enter, you see some live music, you have a couple of bevvos. Then there’s some funny banter with strangers, you see some more bands and when it’s all over and you’ve had heaps of fun, you go home again. Except, those wanting to get their groove on (in the moo, of course), getting passed that first stage was a big ask. Before any sign of the showgrounds, a colossal snake of people was the only thing to be seen. It filled the place with a bit of dread that had everyone reaching for the day’s schedule, mentally crossing out early acts that would be missed.

It was clear from the start there was some serious festival mismanagement happening. With tens-of-thousands entering one gate (probably not much bigger than your average house door), it wasn’t the least surprising to hear war-stories of people waiting 2-3 hours to even get in. The organisers had clearly oversold and undermanaged the whole thing. The horrible wait outside lingered like a bad taste in many of the punter’s mouths, which could only be washed out by the overpriced drinks at the bar. At this point you really start to ponder how much profits the organisers had made and how proportionate this was to the fun being had.

There were two main stages, which zig-zagged between acts. This eliminated long waits between acts for sound checking, etc (but apparently long waits is what the crowd is into, so it didn’t matter either way). Not far away from this area, the Moo-lin Rouge tent offered a platter of more danceable electronic and hip hop tunes. Amazingly the tent’s blaring didn’t bleed into the stage area, and vice versa, preventing Yacht Club DJs from further mashing themselves up with Daniel Johns at the end of the night. On the green paddock the more subdued, sit-down acts, like Lisa Mitchell and Tegan and Sara, complimented the breezy, easy-going sunshine. Their respective tracks like Neapolitans Dreams and Alligator Tears were highlights, getting everyone with their different assortments of Wayfarers smiling. The day came to an easy end with Miami Horror’s set peaking expectedly with their single, Sometimes. This felt like a perfect entry into the evening, with the sun descending over the track’s euphoric synth.

The more danceable acts in the tent did exactly what was expected of them by getting even the most sensible of people to spill their drinks. The Only had the place in a riot, with We No Speak Americano. Hands were in the air and the DJs didn’t hold back the bravado by standing on the decks- it was sheer looseness to say the least. It seemed at this point people had forgotten the long wait at the start and just wanted to make up for lost time. As the showgrounds became dark, Bag Raiders entered with their brand of lively electro house- the absolute pinnacle of it being that very un-hateable drop in Shooting Stars, which lifted the roof of the tent.

Back to the open air, Empire of the Sun’s Luke Steele made up for his lack of band mate, Nick Littlemore with a spectacular live performance. He acted like a hypnotist combining a palette of exotic tribal sounds and danceable hooks with these psychedelic screensaver visuals that went on behind him. Soon enough the crowd had accepted Steele’s invitation to enter his strange world. The already-classic Walking on a Dream made it impossible to spot a frown in the crowd.

A roar welcomed the unanimous favourite Vampire Weekend, who delivered an hour of catchiness and elation. As the chandeliers above their heads lit up the stage, the four New Yorkers lit up the crowd’s faces with their ceaselessly bouncy set list. Indie afro beat tracks like A-Punk and Oxford Comma off their debut self-titled album, bought out a fun childishness in everybody. Then newer favourites, like Giving Up The Gun and Cousins, did the same. The organisers of this festival have this band to thank for killing off any tendencies for rioting that may have existed earlier in the day.

With the open air area getting cramped, and the desire for a raging party I maybe made the regretful decision of dismissing Silverchair for the dance tent. Yacht Club DJs (or Yacht Club DJ- since one was absent), played a mere 45 minutes of squashed-up recognisable dancefloor tunes. It was in the same vein as a GirlTalk set, without the balls or interesting layers. The redeeming part of the set was a remix of the Dr. Who theme, which revealed who my more nerdy friends were.

Soon enough Yacht Club DJs had lifted the needle of the turntable (or more likely ejected the CD out of the CD-J) and Daniel Johns had pulled the lead out of his guitar, only for the showground lights to be dimmed. It was all over and I was left feeling like it could very easily keep going. I don’t know whether it was the royal eff-up that delayed the beginning of everyone’s day or the crowd were just a ceaseless party mob, but I wanted more. Well, I guess I’ll never-never know – unless I go back to Bendigo!