On any other day, Gardens By The Bay would have been a scene of tranquility; serene and idle, albeit a little too hot to mill around in. There's only one day in the year however that the particular plot of land becomes a vibrant vignette of color and sound — Laneway Music Festival Singapore, the annual extravaganza featuring the hottest indie music from around the world and (only recently) the region.
Already in the fifth year in running, festival goers should already know the drill: wake up on a Saturday morning, get some grub and booze at the festival grounds (this depends on your financial status) and catch the acts you like at the front or laze at the back for the ones you're just okay with. Like all things related to SG50, this year's edition is the biggest one ever, and the sold-out crowd of 13,000 should attest to that. Theory disproved: open-field concerts can actually sell out.
Though the responsibility of kicking off this year's festivities rested on the stoic shoulders of Malaysia's synthpop sons Enterprise, they took on their duties like any other sets they've played — with extreme relish. Offering a frenzied, prancing melody of synth-driven rock, the lads paced progressively throughout, capturing the attention of punters trickling into the grounds, pumping them up for the start to a scenester's day out.
Eagulls went up soon after, as the festival crowd began to thicken and wander around amongst their brash post-punk tunes. It was the entrance of Pond and Mac Demarco when the meadows in front of the Garden and Bay stages got mad busy in the way one associates with festivals. Both the psychedelic grooves of Pond and the slack-rock aesthetics of Mac DeMarco seemed unsurpassingly perfect for the afternoon sun, which dared to show signs of oncoming rain throughout. And rain it did, for like 20 minutes and the free ponchos were whipped out and worn over — only to be discarded behind on the ground like a sad memory.
While the Pond boys powered through tightly wound jams as spiritual sequels to 2013 affiliates Tame Impala, DeMarco certainly became the first act of Laneway Fest to have the audience eating out of his hands, despite their shameless refusal to take anything seriously. Breaking out into an impromptu cover of Coldplay's 'Yellow', Singapore once again experienced the full force of no fucks given that is Mac DeMarco.
Over in the furthest fringes of the meadows stood the Cloud Stage, even further away than we remembered — most probably due to the clusterfuck mess last year. While Malaysia's Pastel Lite initiated the proceedings at the third stage with their hazy indie pop stylings, it was Singapore's own electronic duo .gif that kicked things up a notch. Expanding into a full live band set-up with a bassist and a drummer, .gif presented a repertoire of mystical synthesized melodies composed of new material and old favourites — all of which were distinctly enhanced into full-on festival mode. Wilder and stronger than ever before, their potent performance only went on to justify their right on the Laneway Festival lineup, and we're pretty sure the hordes of people singing and romping along to their songs can agree to that.
Back at the main stages, Courtney Barnett and Angus & Julia Stone filled the slowly darkening skies with easy-going tunes, nothing too challenging. By the time they were done, the festival grounds had filled up nicely, displaying the full scale of this year's festival. Even with a previously unused side of a hill being opened up to make way for the exponentially growing number of punters coming in, the whole damn place looked like all of Singapore came to stop by, and just in time to catch garage rock duo Royal Blood ejaculating their bro-ness all over the greenery. The Jimmy Page-approved outfit made up for their lack of personnel on stage with their fiercely bold sound and antics — though seeming like a low-res version of 2013's Japandroids and lot less enticing than fellow bass and drum duos Death From Above 1979. Nonetheless, they sounded massive, adding a bit more energy as evening fell.
On the F&B side of things, the stalls were varied and overpriced as usual. Interestingly enough, the one with the longest queue was Yellow Submarine, which I personally thought was weird because their philly cheesesteaks tasted overwhelmingly meh the last time I visited their Toa Payoh outlet. I had some naan with butter chicken from Casuarina Curry instead, probably the meal that made the most out of my $10 there.
Food offerings aside, neo-funk outfit Jungle came out and fed the audience with feel-good disco vibes, spreading that contagious loose-limbed swagger with waves of minty fresh pop hooks, complete with falsetto vocals and vintage beats. Top marks for playing the grooviest set of the day.
Taking things down a notch but nonetheless groovy, mighty Future Islands stepped onto the Garden Stage to welcome the night — and goddayum they were brilliant. Juxtaposing the band's rather straightforward indie/electro melodies (and nondescript attire) was the dazzling showmanship of frontman Samuel T. Herring who effortlessly switched between his trademark croons with death metal growls, all while pulling off his trademark gyrations and impassioned stage theatrics. It's as touching as it is entertaining, and Future Islands delivered a most heartfelt performance that disappointed none of their fans as they powered through all their classics, old and new.
While synthpop veterans Little Dragon performed a typically stellar set (they've been around since 1996 anyway), Chet Faker caused a near riot over at the Cloud Stage, where the number of fans overwhelmed the cramped space allotted for the audience to the point where some even tried to perch dangerously on top of the scaffolding at the side. While he did play a great solo set, the fact that it was just too crowded turned off some festival-goers as they trudged away from the Cloud Stage area.
It has to be said though — the sound issues at the Cloud Stage became progressively terrible as day went on. Trouble reared its head during local folk outfit Hanging Up The Moon's set, which was tragically marred and cut short due to feedback and generally bad audio output. Rustie's set was none better, and left many very disappointed by imbalanced levels, resulting in a slipshod set. Jon Hopkins' returning performance in Singapore was deemed alright, but still it would have been much more impressive if that sound was fixed. The Cloud Stage certainly needs some more rectifying the next time round.
The last three acts of the main stage were all about womanly pipes, as three vocal powerhouses took control of the remainder of the night. Banks appeared in all her sharp-cheekboned glory, striking a majestic figure on stage like a Lana Del Rey who took a liking to dark attire, attended electronic music production classes and can actually sing. If folks were blown away by the minimal aesthetics of Banks, they would have spontaneously combust when faced with the theatrical experience that was FKA Twigs who went up next. Contrasting from Banks' one-move dance moves, Twigs was a completely limber wild-child on stage, pirouetting and cavorting across the stage in a display of pure sensuality. By the end of the set it felt like she'd made love to all our minds, and we fucking loved every minute of it.
St. Vincent was up last that night, and rightly so considering her current status as indie rock empress. It was full on eccentric city when she stepped on stage in a black cheongsam, sporting cropped black hair and heavy makeup that could make toddlers cry. However, this was exactly the St. Vincent fans have come to know and love — strong, bizarre and very arty. The live atmosphere was a perfect platform for her to show off her exceptional guitar-playing skills — and quickly we realised she could very well be the modern female incarnation of fellow weirdo/genius Prince.
As the festival ended with a regal bow by Annie Clark, the crowd slowly streamed out and another kind of colorful vibrancy revealed itself on the meadows in the form of tremendous expanses of discarded ponchos, beer cans, plastic cups, cigarette butts, picnic mats and other things that would make Captain Planet sob and snivel. Farewell folks, you just enjoyed a very great Garbageway Festival Singapore 2015, we'll see you again next year.
Photo: Aloysius Lim; Alvin Ho; Lionel Boon; Nor Asyraf; Cliff Yeo; Rueven Tan / Laneway Festival Singapore
On any other day, Gardens By The Bay would have been a scene of tranquility; serene and idle, albeit a little too hot to mill around in. There's only one day in the year however that the particular plot of land becomes a vibrant vignette of color and sound — Laneway Music Festival Singapore, the annual extravaganza featuring the hottest indie music from around the world and (only recently) the region.
Already in the fifth year in running, festival goers should already know the drill: wake up on a Saturday morning, get some grub and booze at the festival grounds (this depends on your financial status) and catch the acts you like at the front or laze at the back for the ones you're just okay with. Like all things related to SG50, this year's edition is the biggest one ever, and the sold-out crowd of 13,000 should attest to that. Theory disproved: open-field concerts can actually sell out.
Though the responsibility of kicking off this year's festivities rested on the stoic shoulders of Malaysia's synthpop sons Enterprise, they took on their duties like any other sets they've played — with extreme relish. Offering a frenzied, prancing melody of synth-driven rock, the lads paced progressively throughout, capturing the attention of punters trickling into the grounds, pumping them up for the start to a scenester's day out.
Eagulls went up soon after, as the festival crowd began to thicken and wander around amongst their brash post-punk tunes. It was the entrance of Pond and Mac Demarco when the meadows in front of the Garden and Bay stages got mad busy in the way one associates with festivals. Both the psychedelic grooves of Pond and the slack-rock aesthetics of Mac DeMarco seemed unsurpassingly perfect for the afternoon sun, which dared to show signs of oncoming rain throughout. And rain it did, for like 20 minutes and the free ponchos were whipped out and worn over — only to be discarded behind on the ground like a sad memory.
While the Pond boys powered through tightly wound jams as spiritual sequels to 2013 affiliates Tame Impala, DeMarco certainly became the first act of Laneway Fest to have the audience eating out of his hands, despite their shameless refusal to take anything seriously. Breaking out into an impromptu cover of Coldplay's 'Yellow', Singapore once again experienced the full force of no fucks given that is Mac DeMarco.
Over in the furthest fringes of the meadows stood the Cloud Stage, even further away than we remembered — most probably due to the clusterfuck mess last year. While Malaysia's Pastel Lite initiated the proceedings at the third stage with their hazy indie pop stylings, it was Singapore's own electronic duo .gif that kicked things up a notch. Expanding into a full live band set-up with a bassist and a drummer, .gif presented a repertoire of mystical synthesized melodies composed of new material and old favourites — all of which were distinctly enhanced into full-on festival mode. Wilder and stronger than ever before, their potent performance only went on to justify their right on the Laneway Festival lineup, and we're pretty sure the hordes of people singing and romping along to their songs can agree to that.
Back at the main stages, Courtney Barnett and Angus & Julia Stone filled the slowly darkening skies with easy-going tunes, nothing too challenging. By the time they were done, the festival grounds had filled up nicely, displaying the full scale of this year's festival. Even with a previously unused side of a hill being opened up to make way for the exponentially growing number of punters coming in, the whole damn place looked like all of Singapore came to stop by, and just in time to catch garage rock duo Royal Blood ejaculating their bro-ness all over the greenery. The Jimmy Page-approved outfit made up for their lack of personnel on stage with their fiercely bold sound and antics — though seeming like a low-res version of 2013's Japandroids and lot less enticing than fellow bass and drum duos Death From Above 1979. Nonetheless, they sounded massive, adding a bit more energy as evening fell.
On the F&B side of things, the stalls were varied and overpriced as usual. Interestingly enough, the one with the longest queue was Yellow Submarine, which I personally thought was weird because their philly cheesesteaks tasted overwhelmingly meh the last time I visited their Toa Payoh outlet. I had some naan with butter chicken from Casuarina Curry instead, probably the meal that made the most out of my $10 there.
Food offerings aside, neo-funk outfit Jungle came out and fed the audience with feel-good disco vibes, spreading that contagious loose-limbed swagger with waves of minty fresh pop hooks, complete with falsetto vocals and vintage beats. Top marks for playing the grooviest set of the day.
Taking things down a notch but nonetheless groovy, mighty Future Islands stepped onto the Garden Stage to welcome the night — and goddayum they were brilliant. Juxtaposing the band's rather straightforward indie/electro melodies (and nondescript attire) was the dazzling showmanship of frontman Samuel T. Herring who effortlessly switched between his trademark croons with death metal growls, all while pulling off his trademark gyrations and impassioned stage theatrics. It's as touching as it is entertaining, and Future Islands delivered a most heartfelt performance that disappointed none of their fans as they powered through all their classics, old and new.
While synthpop veterans Little Dragon performed a typically stellar set (they've been around since 1996 anyway), Chet Faker caused a near riot over at the Cloud Stage, where the number of fans overwhelmed the cramped space allotted for the audience to the point where some even tried to perch dangerously on top of the scaffolding at the side. While he did play a great solo set, the fact that it was just too crowded turned off some festival-goers as they trudged away from the Cloud Stage area.
It has to be said though — the sound issues at the Cloud Stage became progressively terrible as day went on. Trouble reared its head during local folk outfit Hanging Up The Moon's set, which was tragically marred and cut short due to feedback and generally bad audio output. Rustie's set was none better, and left many very disappointed by imbalanced levels, resulting in a slipshod set. Jon Hopkins' returning performance in Singapore was deemed alright, but still it would have been much more impressive if that sound was fixed. The Cloud Stage certainly needs some more rectifying the next time round.
The last three acts of the main stage were all about womanly pipes, as three vocal powerhouses took control of the remainder of the night. Banks appeared in all her sharp-cheekboned glory, striking a majestic figure on stage like a Lana Del Rey who took a liking to dark attire, attended electronic music production classes and can actually sing. If folks were blown away by the minimal aesthetics of Banks, they would have spontaneously combust when faced with the theatrical experience that was FKA Twigs who went up next. Contrasting from Banks' one-move dance moves, Twigs was a completely limber wild-child on stage, pirouetting and cavorting across the stage in a display of pure sensuality. By the end of the set it felt like she'd made love to all our minds, and we fucking loved every minute of it.
St. Vincent was up last that night, and rightly so considering her current status as indie rock empress. It was full on eccentric city when she stepped on stage in a black cheongsam, sporting cropped black hair and heavy makeup that could make toddlers cry. However, this was exactly the St. Vincent fans have come to know and love — strong, bizarre and very arty. The live atmosphere was a perfect platform for her to show off her exceptional guitar-playing skills — and quickly we realised she could very well be the modern female incarnation of fellow weirdo/genius Prince.
As the festival ended with a regal bow by Annie Clark, the crowd slowly streamed out and another kind of colorful vibrancy revealed itself on the meadows in the form of tremendous expanses of discarded ponchos, beer cans, plastic cups, cigarette butts, picnic mats and other things that would make Captain Planet sob and snivel. Farewell folks, you just enjoyed a very great Garbageway Festival Singapore 2015, we'll see you again next year.
Photo: Aloysius Lim; Alvin Ho; Lionel Boon; Nor Asyraf; Cliff Yeo; Rueven Tan / Laneway Festival Singapore