The lead up to the inaugural Harvest Festival in Parramatta Park was one rife with trepidation and questions. Would the event be plagued with the same problems as Soundwave, the flagship festival of its promoters? Would the venue work well, or would the long trek out west for some be fruitless? And dear god, why did those timetables take such a long time to surface?

As it turned out, it couldn’t have been a more perfect day. Minimal queues, beautiful art installations around the grounds, a mostly chilled crowd and, of course, brilliant music made Harvest a total success. This is me eating my words of worry. It was amazing.

KEVIN DEVINE

Opening the day’s musical festivities was Kevin Devine, one of today’s most underrated songwriters who really deserved a much later timeslot. Touring on the back of his newest album, Between The Concrete And Clouds, the shy Brooklynite offered a humble acoustic set that allowed his unique voice to tell fanciful stories buoyed by his thoughtful lyrics. His musical personality traverses everything from subdued troubadour to impassioned preacher, best illustrated on closing track Brother’s Blood, where he stepped away from the microphone to deliver earth-shattering screams at the track’s powerful climax.

HYPNOTIC BRASS ENSEMBLE

Over at the Great Lawn stage, the sounds of Hypnotic Brass Ensemble stirred the crowd into a frenzy. The band of brothers threw in a set that mixed traditional big band sounds with some truly exciting hip hop sensibilities, an atmosphere that would be carried on later by The Family Stone who, though without main man Sly these days, still managed to crank the funk up as the heat poured sweat down punters’ backs, sequins and glitter blinding eyes as the joyous music spilled from the stage. Sets like these were part of what made the festival so unique; rather than just the usual indie rock fare, there were very different elements on display at Harvest that allowed audience members to taste new flavours.

At the same time as HBE, over at the Windmill Stage, Brits This Town Needs Guns were spinning their math rock tunes with amazing precision, also showing off some new tunes, including the brilliantly named Cat Fantastic, while they were at it. Making the set all the more impressive was the fact that it was one of the first shows they were playing with their new line-up – they were a well-oiled unit and, in the spirit of Movember, sported fine facial hair (some better than others).

The dapper gentlemen in The Walkmen followed, and while their set did have the pleasantries of finely crafted indie rock, after a while it felt a little pedestrian and it was onwards to the previously mentioned Family Stone. In a similar funkified vein, TV On The Radio drew a massive crowd and proved that they’ve still got it following the year’s earlier tragedies. They were impeccably tight and very, very, verrrrry loud, a band perfectly suited to a festival, and tunes were drawn from all across their discography as the sweaty crowd screamed its approval.

BRIGHT EYES

What can you say about finally seeing a band you’ve desperately wanted to catch live since you were 14 years old? Last time Conor Oberst came to Australia as Bright Eyes, it was 2005 and at 17 years old, attending the headlining Metro show was sadly not a possibility – but hello, it’s 2011 and Bright Eyes are back and hey, they’re still awesome! Oberst was much happier than he was during his 2008 Mystic Valley tour, often joking around and displaying the most bizarre dance moves.

The jaunty Four Winds kicked off the set, which was largely a crowd pleasing selection of songs from across Oberst’s many albums. Of course the biggest cheers were saved for Lover I Don’t Have To Love, but Landlocked Blues was no doubt a highlight, with Oberst’s voice shining on its own as he carefully made his way through the emotive track. He and his backing members went a little mental during final song Road To Joy, as they always do, and by the time he strolled off stage everyone was that much closer to the end of that road. A pleasure and a privilege, finally, to hear songs that have as much meaning today, in a totally different way, as they did in the angsty teenage years – the mark of a fine songwriter, surely, to remain relevant throughout so many life changes.

THE NATIONAL

The National’s two shows in January remain some of the best of the year so far, and so it was with much anticipation indeed that they returned to Australia not even a year after their last visit. Matt Berninger and friends are one of modern music’s most inspiring success stories, living proof of slow and steady winning the race.

The band’s Harvest set drew heavily on tracks from the last two albums, High Violet and Boxer, and needed little more than Berninger’s deep vocals to be deemed life changing, incendiary, all those other words you hear thrown about. The addition of a brass section added that extra punch to some of the tunes, and Conversation 16 was a particularly moving inclusion, with thousands singing “I’m evil” in unison with Berninger. The National doesn’t need bells and whistles to deliver an utterly convincing performance, and Berninger’s customary descent into the crowd for closer Terrible Love was one of the day’s most uplifting moments.

There’s not much to say about this band that hasn’t been said before but if you’ve yet to check them out live, get along to a show if you can. Truly life-affirming stuff, every single time.

THE FLAMING LIPS

The Flaming Lips’s live show hasn’t changed much since it began, but it doesn’t need to. Though Wayne Coyne and co. were late by more than half an hour, much to the annoyance of many, by the time they finally appeared on stage all was forgotten as they emerged from a neon vagina. Surfing around the crowd in an enormous bubble, Coyne led the way through a colourful adventure as the audience reveled in balloons, confetti and of course music, with the mass singalong for Yoshimi Battles The Pink Robots Part 1 a particular tear-jerker.

The musical and visual aspects of the performance tied together to create something truly special, and by the time it all wrapped up with a blissfully spaced out Do You Realize??, all in attendance were on cloud nine. Rainbows raining down on a crowd with the warm almost-summer air kissing the tiny pieces of coloured paper. The perfect way to let those freak flags fly.

The closing set from headliners Portishead, delayed because of the Flips’ lateness, was one that proved ideal for lying down on the grass, listening while letting feet have a rest for the first time all day. The ethereal soundscapes, and Beth Gibbons’ haunting voice, were spellbinding, whether one was up front staring into the laser projections or hanging back, simply allowing the ears to bathe in the sounds around them. Glory Box was unsurprisingly the highlight, as suited to an expansive western suburbs field as a smoky bedroom with the lights on low.

For the first year of a festival especially, Harvest was a remarkably smooth and enjoyable day, with plenty of incredible live music to experience and an atmosphere both comfortable and exciting. Here’s hoping that next year’s edition is just as brilliant – this one looks like a keeper.

Queensland troubadour Darren Hanlon was an unlikely support act, but the crowd quickly warmed to his earnest personality both musical and otherwise. First performing solo with just a guitar, then joined by a drummer and Portland musician Shelley Short, and finally singing gently with a ukulele, the set rested on Hanlon’s conversational tone and the harmonies he wove with Short. When he was alone his manner resembled a Play School telling, with chatty interludes, but when his voice was doubled by the percussion-shaking Short’s the tunes took on a whole new life – Scenes From A Separation allowed her voice to shine. A highlight was I Waited For The 17, a grand display of Hanlon’s self-effacing humour.

2005 was the last time Sydney was treated to a full Bright Eyes set, with main man Conor Oberst retiring the name several years later and embarking on an entirely separate adventure. This year the moniker returned with The People’s Key, and tonight’s set comprised tunes from across Oberst’s decade-plus career.

Opening with the foot-stomping Four Winds, the ensuing set showed an Oberst in fine voice and form – surprising, considering his notoriously volatile nature – whether raucously yelling, with bodily actions to match, or solemnly enunciating. His backing musicians helped matters too, with Nate Walcott adding a beautiful muted trumpet to back the acoustic Lua and keyboardist Laura Burhenn’s vocals adding a sweet layer, particularly during the climax of Lover I Don’t Have To Love and the female-driven We Are Nowhere And It’s Now.

The audience sang along with reckless abandon, often lunging forward, attempting to touch Oberst’s hands. You could hear a pin drop when he offered more sombre numbers, like the piano-driven Ladder Song and the haunting No One Would Riot For Less, his voice shaking with emotion. Old songs like Bowl Of Oranges and The Calendar Hung Itself… were just as warmly received as newbies like the joyous Shell Games, and Cartoon Blues saw Oberst make use of silence as much as sound, often stopping for dramatic effect.

A manic Road To Joy was thrown in as an encore, with Oberst showing his unique sense of humour when introducing his bandmates before wrapping up with One For You, One For Me. It’s somewhat ironic that one of music’s most infamously depressed figures could evoke such joy from both himself and the audience, but it happened tonight. Bravo.
Giselle Nguyen