HOMEBAKE
Gold Coast Parklands, 28 November 1999
by Sommer T
as posted on the econodog mailing list

Awoke 8:00 am, Monday morning, November 29, day after Homebake. I wondered if I should go to school... "If I do, it means I have ten minutes in which to get dressed, eat, brush my teeth, and do the usual couple of minutes pissfarting around wondering what assignments or homework I'd forgotten about..." These thoughts, however, did not cross my mind. The word that raced through and hit a wall on the other side, broke its neck, and uttered a last message, was a firm, "No.' There was no way I was getting up for at least another hour to catch up on sleep I've lost over the past three years, and besides, I have to reflect on Homebake.

9:05 am. I awoke to find my cat walking across my stomach, and subsequently licking my face (anyone who has a cat knows that their tongues are like sandpaper). What a bitch. At this point, I could sleep no longer with a space-consuming animal of such massive proportions. So. I fell out of bed, inspected myself in the mirror, only to find that I was still wearing the powderfinger shirt I had bought the night before. I don't think I'll ever take this shirt off. But now, to stop from boring you to death, I will recount the events of the fantastic day and night before this - Homebake 19999 - Parklands Showgrounds - Gold Coast - November 28.

I'll start about half way through the day; after relaxing on a nice grassy slope for about a quarter of an hour, awaiting Something For Kate's triumphant entry on to the Mainstage. On the way in to the mosh pit (which wasn't exactly going off, seeing as you can't exactly get all excited about a couple of roadies dragging off equipmenent...), Matt from Testeagles - whose attractive physical appearance my best friend and I had commented on only 2 hours before - came up to us with a bunch of Testeagles stickers, encouraging us to hand them all out to our friends. Becky (my aforementioned best friend), and I were speechless. As he walked off, I enthusiastically expressed my desire to run after him and get his autograph, and why the hell hadn't we got him to stop a minute to sign my program, anyway? However, he had disappeared in to the crowd, never to bee seen again, sadly...

A little shocked and disappointed, we veered back on course to Something For Kate, who put in an excellent performance. If they hadn't been so damn great, I might have been pissed off about the crimson sunburned shoulders I got whilst watching them in the bright afternoon sun, but alas, they were too good for me to notice my slowly crisping back and shoulders. Plus I was also wondering where I could get a hold of a dress like Stephanie's...

Another in-the-flesh encounter with a musical talent occurred shortly after Something For Kate's set, when Frenzal Rhomb (Oh, God, what is the music world coming to when a singer (Jay) mentions the act of fucking one's own shit, and the fact that at least a few people in the audience have done it? I dislike Frenzal with a passion, so this was almost expected... Even Dave from Custard said they were a bunch of ugly fucking cunts with no talent...) were playing, if you could call that playing. I'm sorry to Frenzal fans out there; on a positive note; they are nicely animated in their shows. But anyway, Becky and I wandered off to brave the portaloos, and on the way there, I exclaimed that, oh my God, there was one of the guys from Area 7 walking past us at a nice swift pace, and if we didn't catch him quickly we wouldn't get an autograph and hence be the envy of many Area 7 loving fans I knew. Except it went more like this, "Fuck, there's one of the guys from Area 7! Fuck, c'mon let's get an autograph! Ah, shit he's going too fast, c'mon Becky, let's go after him!" Becky could care less, and he got away.

Being pissed off can get one in to much trouble, and so somehow I had soon let myself be dragged in to the Frenzal mosh, subsequently getting one of the straps on my bag broken, and one also one of my necklaces. So thanks to Frenzal fucking Rhomb, I had to spend the rest of the day clutching my bag in a very inconvenient manner, and was only able to throw up one of my hands when excited, and on top of that I couldn't clap. Soon, however, I managed to drag myself out of there, and wandered off to see Gerling, who I enjoyed substantially more... From there, eating was definitely the next step in the master plan, and the master plan was as follows. To ensure a good spot during powderfinger's set, we had to get in early. So, if we ate during Custard, and *sniff* regrettably missed out on Alex Lloyd (I can't believe I did that for powderfinger, but then again, what a fan will do...), we could sneak in to the Mainstage crowd for Jebediah, move further toward the stage when Jebs fans left after their set, and then do the same after Grinspoon had finished, and consequently be up nice and close for powderfinger.

And so comes the interesting part. If you're still willing to read after this, you're doing very, very well. Jebediah. A tame mosh if ever I was in one, I must say. I have no real complaints about this (Gasp! Sommer? Not whinging? What a shock! But really...), in fact I quite enjoyed myself. I did manage to give myself a teensy tiny headache from going off a little too excitedly, but hey, I was filled with the thought that my favourite band were to grace the stage in a matter of hours. Jebediah performed very well, and I almost fell over laughing when I heard someone behind me exclaim about the band, "Hey, I just realised that one's a chick!" Well, duh! But soon enough, Jebs were done, and much of the crowd dispersed, perhaps off to witness the brilliance from inside the Juice Stage tent - the Avalanches.

Or maybe they left, having had their fill of a favourite band. I don't know these things, however, I do know that then I was able to squeeze up a few (or more) rows closer to the stage, even though I knew full well how painful it was going to be during Grinspoon... And it was indeed that. One guy behind me found that a couple of songs in, his eyebrow ring had somehow (hmm gee I wonder how) managed to tear the skin and was quite prolifically bleeding from the wound. As for myself, I was stuck behind three too many tall guys, and thoroughly disliked the fact that my sunburn was chafing against the shoulders of the people on either side of me. However, despite all this, and the couple not far in front of me to whom I kindly suggested that they get a room, and the stoner beside Becky trying to look cool with an unlit cigarette, and my insane disgust at the fact that Phil was complaining about only being given water, and not alcohol (Why the fuck should he complain? Us moshers were parched, forbidden from taking drink bottles in, and only the first few rows were given measly cups of water) I quite enjoyed Grinspoon. And so they concluded with, of course, Ready 1, which absolutely went off, but which also got me a couple of surface abrasions on my (red and crispy) back, from the heavily bejeweled girl behind me who kept mashing her upper limbs against my back. But you get that.

And so came the anticipation. Instead of a few people leaving as I had anticipated, I got that feeling that the crowd must have doubled for the fingers (and why not?), as Becky and I squeezed and maneuvered our way to, perhaps, three rows from the front. I suggested to one shitfaced 'bogan' (for want of an infinitely more insulting word) that he kindly let me in front of him since he was substantially taller than myself, however he responded by asking whether I thought he was Satan or God, because the girls in front of him kept calling him a bastard. I told him not to take it as an insult; all it meant was that he was born out of wedlock; however he was hell-bent on talking but not listening, so I had to settle on being stuck behind a few other tall guys. To add insult to injury, I found that my white econodog sticker I had strategically placed on the neckline of my black singlet, was missing the last two letters. And of course this had to happen when I'd just found a nice guy who was willing to hoist me on to his shoulders long enough for me to proclaim that econodogs rule (because we do, right?). However when I did get up on to his shoulders we found that it would be too long to wait for powderfinger to come on stage, and he complained that I was getting heavy, so I had to get down... Damn. And I was so very close to the stage.

Fairly soon the amazing Powderfinger screen display came on, which I must say is to be congratulated on - very powerful and effective. The crowd was psyched, and indeed surged this way and that as each person vied for a better position, and which nobody obtained, I'm sure; I tried, did I ever try! Enter Ian Haug, Jon Coghill, Darren Middleton, John Collins, and Bernard Fanning. I waved my free arm around violently trying to get pictures over the heads of the crowd, but because I had no idea what I was aiming the lens at, I bet I'll get the photos back as a jumbled mess of leads, the bottom of Cogsy's drum kit, and maybe the tops of JC and Ian's heads... I did get a nice young, tall, man to get me a couple of pictures of Dz with my camera, but then the film ran out. As did the battery. I had a whole other film to use, too! And I couldn't use it! Opener - The Day You Come. At least it was something the teenyboppers could recognise - and there were a lot of them. It was quite funny as we all sang along to the songs - about five girls compressed behind me sang every single lyric to the songs from Internationalist, as did I, but when it came to Double Allergic, they were lost, and I along with most of the guys, just kept rocking away singing hideously off key but with pleased grins and sore necks from the mosh... To those few without Double Allergic, go out and buy it. I think it's equal to, if not better than Internationalist, but I suppose that's a stretch of a claim to make. The crowd was wild - at several stages I couldn't breathe as a result of being sandwiched between...oh, about the whole 15000 people at Homebake, and I honestly thought I might die there among a legion of powderfinger fans, listening to and watching my favourite band. Yes, I would have died a happy chappy... I couldn't help but throw up my arm (would have been arms, but the bag thing, you see - couldn't let go of it!) at every available opportunity, which I'm positive pissed off the girls behind me to no end. Especially in the Boing Boing intro when Cogsy comes in with the drums, that's when I let it (my arm) fly. I managed to get around not being able to see by standing on tiptoes the whole time, which resulted in tremendously worthwhile but crippling toe-cramps... Oh yeah, and has anyone else here ever had the compulsion to violently wave their arm(s) about at the lead up to the chorus of Celebrity Head? Because I always do... Perhaps I'm alone on that one. In any case, being closest to Dz, he was the one I watched the most, and so to those of you who complained about him getting his hair cut, which we noticed on The Panel - it really isn't bad at all. He still looks like the same ol' (attractive) Dz, still sings and plays like the same ol' Dz, so don't complain. Bernie's little cracks were very funny, also. During These Days it began to rain (but didn't last very long) and in the ad-lib, Bernie came out with sing-song lines such as, "I'm gonna get electrocuted..." At this point everyone laughed; and then there was, "Knew this was gonna happen, so I wore rubber- soled shoes... This life, well it's slipping right through my hands..." I guess the rain is a bit of a worry, and Dz came out with, "If you see us all go up in blue flames/sparks (my memory's a bit hazy) during a song, don't worry, it's just part of the show." Bernie also got to do his guitar solo (pfft), along with Ian and JC getting to have their beer-and-ciggie on stage. JC, I notice, always has Crown Lager tipped as the beer of choice, but I could advise a nice li'l brew called Hahn Ice - I'm sure you all know of it. Personally, I think it is better than Crownie, but it's a matter of personal taste. And to Ian - if you want to get lung cancer and die, there will be many people bereaved at your death, and angry with you because it's only your own fault. For God's sake, can't you go a measly little hour on stage without a cigarette? But that's what we love about Australia, right? That it's totally cool with everyone to drink and smoke on stage cos that's what we're all about - being open minded. So hell, the guys can do what they want. God, I love this country! The performance was great. I can honestly say I think they went off the most, and without bias. Perhaps Silverchair equalled them, but they certainly wouldn't have surpassed powderfinger. Go the finger! In any case.

'America' and 'My Love' both great songs, can't wait to hear them again, they have to be on the new album! I don't care if there is a choice to cut it down to 13 songs from 15 - put those two on! Or, even better, include all the songs, give us consumers more value for money, maybe as b-sides, like on Double Allergic, which was a kick-ass idea... And so I returned home, to undress and find the two missing letters from my sticker stcuk to my stomach (how the fuck did they get there), and from the ringing in my ears I managed to make out what sounded like Ian belting out Boing Boing while JC played Pick You Up, and Darren and Cogsy went ahead with DAF, as Bernie sang "Here I am again you know me, here I am again in for free, missed the backing band you know me, here I am again in for free" on a continuous loop in my head.

Anyway, that's all I have to say for now. I've been writing this on and off for hours and hours so my brain is drained. Thank you for reading the whole thing, if you got this far! To those anticipating Sydney Homebake, it should go off! Have a a great time! Bye!

Sommer "Homebake is a fucking Gun" Tothill