Since beginning as a small gathering between mates in 1991, Meredith music festival has been a fixture on the Victorian live music calendar. The three-day camping event has several points of difference from other festivals: no corporate sponsorship, a BYO ethos and a focus on community care. With Australian festivals dropping like flies, it feels miraculous that the little festival that could is not only still going, but growing: the crowd at the 32nd iteration is noticeably younger, suggesting that the magic is spreading to a new generation.
This year, the eclectic lineup includes a number of local acts that have broken overseas. In a rare home town show, indie duo Good Morning – expanding to a nine-piece live – has an early Friday afternoon slot, showcasing their gorgeous harmonies and lush musical arrangements. A raucous rendition of Country closes the set, as friends of the band come on to the stage shaking maracas and dancing along; in the crowd, shoes are raised, the festival’s signature gesture of approval.
As the sun goes down, US producer Mk.gee takes the stage, bathed in red light. His music flits from ambient to 80s-inspired synth and industrial noise, conjuring a singular, mesmerising atmosphere. Waxahatchee is a highlight of the first day, though the night-time setting is a strange choice for Katie Crutchfield’s Americana rock – it would have been perfect in the sunset slot. It’s a minor complaint, though; Crutchfield and her band are excellent. Her clear, unadorned vocals sound great live as she does double duties, singing MJ Lenderman’s parts on their duet Right Back To It and closes with an upbeat reimagining of Fire.
“Meredith, are you alive?” asks Genesis Owusu just after midnight. The Canberran rap-rocker is a bona fide superstar, transforming the front section into a frenzied pit as he roars through songs from his latest album, Struggler, as well as a handful of earlier hits. The set is divided between upbeat tracks and slower jams, proving Owusu’s chops as a versatile vocalist and showman.
After dark, Meredith turns into an all-out rave, with doof sticks and lights illuminating the amphitheatre. Sometimes, the highlights of the weekend are the interstitial tracks (Dido’s Thank You is still echoing in my head). It’s a stark contrast to Saturday morning’s wholesome annual opening set by the City of Ballarat Municipal Brass Band. A conga line kicks the day off, followed by Melbourne’s Maple Glider, who awakens the crowd with her rousing, emotive folk rock.
“Every Christian fascist can suck our fucking dick,” says Missy Dabice, the leader of Philadelphia quarter Mannequin Pussy. Politics are front and centre of the band’s pummelling set on their debut Australian tour, as Dabice makes her stance crystal clear; she splits vocals with bassist Colins Regisford, producing a ferocious wall of sound. The same energy continues in Barkaa’s set, as the Indigenous rapper decries racism and police brutality in Australia with passion and rage – these artists are working across different genres, but have a similar fire.
There’s always at least one legacy act at Meredith and this year it’s Leo Sayer. The 76-year-old is clearly delighted to be there; he nails the falsetto on You Make Me Feel Like Dancing, but can also hit the gravelly lower notes with sensual precision. Sayer commands the grooving crowd to get down low and jump up again, and the effect is joyous – it’s the kind of wonderful surprise that fits right in here.
Angie McMahon’s music was made for this festival: a communion with nature and the self. The dying sun glows against the trees as the Melbourne singer-songwriter enchants with her voice, both dreamy and commanding. Her timely cover of Australian Crawl’s Reckless is a highlight, as is a singalong to Making It Through, helped by homemade lyric sheets distributed by loyal fans. “She gets both,” the girl next to me says, dragging off her gumboots and thrusting them skyward.
There may be only two of them, but Party Dozen’s sound is huge: Sydney duo Jonathan Boulet and Kirsty Tickle prep the crowd for the night to come with an aggressive set that ignites the floor, as Tickle screams into her saxophone, distorting her vocals. A set from the indie sleaze revivalist The Dare divides the crowd – some enjoy his shtick, while complaints about his set are the talk of the next day among others – but all is forgiven by a glittering laser light show soundtracked by Sonique’s It Feels So Good, followed by a blissful 90-minute set from headliner Jamie xx. The English indie band member turned DJ extraordinaire is unassuming on stage, hunched over his deck, but his transitions are sublime and have the crowd in a state of hypnosis.
Sunday’s half-day of programming is more relaxed, from the minimalist stirrings of experimental veterans Essendon Airport to local janglers Cool Sounds. The audience is packing up and filtering out, as The Gift – Meredith’s annual nude run – rounds out the weekend. For longtime attendees and newcomers, it’s a typically glorious weekend of music, community and revelry – long may it reign.
