Sucked in - no pity here.
This bizarre obsession with "festivals", especially of the pretentiously edge-y, "intimate" variety, set in repulsively garbage-strewn stench-ridden back alleys, has seen its apogee in this year's Laneway Travesty - as if that debacle in that crappy old Lonsdale St carpark wasn't embarassment enough for the organisers.
Seriously: almost every band that deigns to put in their 30-minute set at these painfully-overpriced bogan-laden queue-fests does a "side-show" i.e. a REAL show, in a REAL venue, at which one gets to see/hear/experience them in all their glory.
But for your 100 bucks, you got to stand well outside of a skanky, urine-soaked strip of slimy asphalt with an achingly-full bladder, in spite of your possession of a perfectly-valid [if somewhat sweaty] wristband, listening to the distant strangled sounds of your favourite band through a mediocre soundsystem [and apparently the sound of people literally pissing because they couldn't physically get to the non-existent toilets], with a myriad of other pissed-off [if not pissed-on] punters.
Think about it next time you're scanning an apparently-star-studded line-up and contemplating parting with a three-figure sum of your hard-earned cash.
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