Wow I’m really banging them out, aren’t I? That’s what happens when your number of jobs goes from three to one and your body-clock is still in Europe, meaning I’m up at the productive time of 3pm to 6am. So without further ado, my very sober review of Planet Cream; an event where you really need to be f*cked up to attend…
It’s 10.30pm you’ve just landed in Adelaide from a day of work slogging around Sydney in your new boots that are now killing your feet. You’ve been up since 4am and yesterday’s Tabata class is still wreaking havoc with every single muscle in your body. You’re supposed to go to the Adelaide Entertainment Centre to review Planet Cream but still scarred by the memory of Future Music, the thought of being around that type of crowd and having to stay sober is more painful than your aching muscles but ‘f*ck it’ the masochist inside you says, ‘let’s go!’ Crossing the street looking inside the entertainment centre can only be described as intimidating, the noise is incredible and the small line of 15 year old girls camped out under their blankets for One Direction tickets have to be commended, they’re bloody brave…
Just cutting in here to mention, that I was so, so happy to see people I knew because it honestly would have been torture to be there alone. Wearing my ‘Led Bloody Zeppelin That’s Who’ singlet I really felt overdressed on this freezing Autumn night as there was an extortionate amount of side boob and stiff nipples on display (former girls, latter boys). Honestly you stick the term ‘Festival’ on the end of a poster and looking around you’d think the temperature had shot up 10 degrees. The entertainment centre usually such a classy and clean venue looked like it had literally gone to the dogs, trash was everywhere and the place was dirty – =P had to do it!
…Plastic cups crunching under my feet and a walkabout reveals a silent disco, the main room (affectionately called ‘The Darkness’), an alfresco-style rave area and the small and cosy Star room. Finding some friends we went into the Star room which had local DJ Paul Marshman playing and stuck around enjoying the tunes and the view. Nicknamed “The Entrance” room because everyone who came through the door in from the smoking area thought they were the don and were compelled to make an entrance. Jesus posing, boogieing in, grooving, shoulder popping, male synchronised skipping -nobody just walked in – in their eyes they were the bee’s knees. Hilarious. Marshman was great and I reluctantly stuck to head bopping as my body couldn’t handle fancy-pants-ing around, playing a game of ‘Name that Drug’ and envying anyone who could bust any sort of a move. ..
Like moths to a flame.
…Never one to let weather get in the way of anything the crowd looked better suited for the beach as the boys had their nipples out and for the girls serious side-boob was order of the day. I’m not unjust to say whoever wears sunglasses in the dark is a douche – and of those there were plenty. Moving into the darkness for Dirty South it was pretty awesome, besides the off-putting illegal puff puff – cigarette smoking indoors, the rebels – Dirty South played a great mix and it’s the first time I’ve been to a gig/festival that started in Adelaide, the energy was incendiary…
…Though my mind could no longer ignore my aching body and David Guetta was to be my last performance of the night…
Ah yes, the Jesus pose..
… and again.
…As joyous as ever with that huge fat-kid-loves-cake grin throughout the whole set, you can’t fault him for loving what he does and giving back to the crowd 3-fold…
…Playing crowd pleasers; ‘Little Bad Girl’, Solitario’s ‘Turn Up The Bass’, ‘When Love Takes Over’, Avicci and Gotye’s ‘Somebody that I used to know’, ‘Turn me on’, ‘I Can only imagine’, Calvin Harris’s ‘Feel so close to you’ and finally, I mean lastly ‘Without You’…
…The set felt like an eternity and already patting myself on the back for even showing up, I begrudgingly limped to the car missing Above & Beyond. I am told they were incredible but climbing into my bed that night was orgasmic so I barely mind.
