After initially being refused entry because of my digicam, I calmly walked to another entrance where the camera was fine, but my Fluid Druids water bottle from Woodford was deemed unacceptable, once again thwarting my perennial quest to carry a Woodford bottle through to the following year's festival. Magic Dirt had just kicked off proceedings on the main stage, and to my delight unleashed a sizzling rendition of their early classic "Ice" complete with a groove laden psychedelic interlude which was as close as I'll ever get to seeing my beloved Kyuss on stage again (unless, of course, a promoter has the foresight to bring Queens Of The Stone Age and Unida to Australia on the ultimate double bill. But I digress.....). Adalita rocks like no other chick in the business, and tunes like "She-Riff" and the newie "Teenage Vampire" show that the band has lost none of their firepower over the years. The giant hands adorning the front of the stage were also a nice touch, especially for those of us lucky enough to score one (WOO - HOO!).

How Atari Teenage Riot ended up on the main stage in the middle of the day is a mystery to me, but they nonetheless managed to pull the first sizeable mosh of the day with their unique blend of noise, metal, hardcore, jungle, and more noise. In fact, the front of house sound was so shoddy that it wasn't until about three tracks into their set that actual tunes could be detected in the mix. The three MC's more than made up for the shortcomings of the sound with some ferocious rapping, and head-honcho Alec Empire's claim that they only played major festivals to incite revolution against the police and government would have been downright hilarious if he wasn't so serious. Most entertaining.

As I was lining up for food, the characters at the Lilypad (chill-out zone and place of general craziness) were trying to coax people from the crowd to come on stage and get their gear off. ans ure enough, their were a host of willing punters. The audience voted for a young blonde girl to show us her wares, and in the interests of equality, a lad was chosen to display his tackle to the gathered hoardes (you're all a bunch of sickos!).

Something For Kate drew a huge crowd to the Green Stage, and proceeded to show why they have become one of the most popular bands amongst the Australian alternative set. Paul Dempsey sings every note as if it's his last, and it's clear from the emotion in his lyrics that this man has truly lived his life. "Electricity" opens the set to rapturous applause, and the top tunes didn't let up, with some of the guitar chords and song structures even reminding me of Soundgarden in some of their more reflective moments. I must admit I was a skeptic, but their performance today left me most impressed (and I would have been even more impressed if I didn't spill beer all over my steak sandwich, but again, I digress.....).

Beth Orton was a bit of an unknown quantity to me, but I decided to check her out on the strength of her work with The Chemical Brothers and the sublime single "Stolen Car". And she certainly didn't disappoint, with a collection of superbly crafted acoustic songs and a voice which was much more powerful than her recorded work would indicate. Her backing band were top class, with drums, guitar, bouzouki, stand-up bass and Wurlitzer keyboard filling the space around her sweet voice perfectly. "You're all a bunch of hippies," declared Miss Orton before launching into "Stolen Car" (which didn't quite sound the same without Ben Harper's inspired slide guitar), followed immediately by the haunting "She Cries Your Name". A welcome respite from the pounding rock and techno that dominated the day's proceedings.

I found myself alone, so it was time to take in the sights and sounds of the festival grounds. As luck would have it, I came across Aboriginal rock band Nokturnl, who were cranking out a set which would have many Korn fans quaking in their boots. They were encouraging punters outside the grounds to indulge in a bit of fence-jumping, and sure enough, a string of about 20 attempted to make the leap of faith into the Parklands. The Boys and Girls in Blue did their best, but a few were lucky enough to disappear into the crowd, to the rousing applause of all who witnessed. Over at the Lilypad, the 2 Dogs were conducting an MC comp, with D-NO from Brisbane crew Decipher taking out the honours. My friends materialised out of nowhere, and we made the trek back to Shihad at the Green Stage.

To use a staple from the music reviewer's cliche handbook, Shihad rocked! Let me rephrase that......they ROCKED! All the rumours are true, and their performance today led one of my mates to state emphatically that these guys are set to take You Am I's mantle as the undisputed kings of rock in this country. Alright, so technically they're Kiwis, but with a collection of songs as simultaneously catchy and heavy as theirs, who fucking cares? "The General Electric", "Wait and See", "My Mind's Sedate", "The Thin White Lie", and "Interconnector" almost command you to get in there and start thrashing your body around. Words can't tell the story - just go and find out for yourself before the rest of the world discovers them.

The only thing that could possibly follow Shihad was a well-deserved round of coldies and a spot on the hill for the mighty Grinspoon. But hill space was scarce - indeed, most of the 50 000 strong crowd seemed to have the same idea - so it was back to the Lilypad for a quick rest. DJ Gaz was spinning some classic 60s rock, and it was great to see the young crowd singing and dancing with glee to the likes of "My Generation", "All Day and All Of The Night" and "I Saw Her Standing There". It somehow seemed to put everything into perspective, and prepared us for the night's coming onslaught.

After spending the better part of last year's Big Day Out glued to the dancefloor in The Boiler Room (and let's face it, with a lineup including Roni Size, Luke Slater, Fatboy Slim, Sonic Animation, Soma Rasa and The Resin Dogs, who wouldn't), I'd made a conscious effort to steer clear this time around, but with Melbourne DJ Sean Quinn pounding out the beats, I could resist the temptation no longer.

	But it was the legendary status of Primal Scream which lured me to the Boiler Room, and after being regailed with tales of psychedelic freak-outs at their last Big Day Out performance in 1995, I was keen to see what all the fuss was about. The Scream concocted a mighty wall of sound, with up to nine people (including three guitarists and a horn section) on stage at any one time, but I couldn't help but think there'd been a mix up in the scheduling and someone had confused them with Atari Teenage Riot. With the exception of ex-Stone Roses bassist Mani, Primal Scream had the collective stage presence of a sack of potatoes - frontman Bobby Gillespie looked like he'd much rather have been side of stage snorting coke. The new track "Kill All Hippies", with its sinewy synth riffs and hip hop grooves, and the pumping electronica of "Swastika Eyes" were well received, but overall, I couldn't help but feel a little disappointed. If only I'd had the foresight to check out The Resin Dogs, who apparently berated some drunken lout who decided to scale the tent and managed to get the whole crowd to turn on him. Ahh, the fickle Aussie public, you've gotta love 'em!
Twilight was falling on The Gold Coast Parklands, which could only mean one thing - the big names were about to start treading the boards. First up were The Foo Fighters, and although they're only three albums into their career, their set was as close to a greatest hits collection as you could ever hope to hear. Dave Grohl and co effortlessly carried the weight of the crowd's expectations, with each album, particularly The Colour and The Shape(the pinnacle of their career to date for mine) well represented. There was even a drum solo! Highlights included "Stacked Actors", the feelgood lovesong "Big Me" (a top tune even without the hilarious clip that accompanies it), a pisstake of "American Woman" which fortunately didn't make it past the first verse, and the call to arms of "This Is A Call", a fitting finale to a set which confirmed that Grohl is much more than the drummer for some band called Nirvana.
	Back in 1994, I stumbled across an album called The Downward Spiral by a cheery fellow going under the collective moniker of Nine Inch Nails. A month later people all over Australia were singing "I want to fuck you like an animal", and one of the most intensely depressing albums of all time somehow found itself in the upper reaches of the charts. Finally, six years later, Trent Reznor and the lads had made their way back to Australia with a new album under their arms, and my objectives were clear - make my way to the front row or die trying.
Ominous clouds began to roll in from the south as the Nails opened with the one-two sucker punch of "Head Like A Hole" and "Terrible Lie", and I began my long journey from the hill to the mosh pit. Trailing in the wake of any big bastard who I came across, I found myself in good position by the time they launched into the industrial punk that is "March Of The Pigs", with Reznor's trademark maniacal refrain of "Now doesn't it make you feel better?" reverberating around the pit. The NIN live sound was far more sparse than the wall of sound which typifies their recorded efforts, and much of the subtlety of "Piggy" was lost amidst the pumping beats coming from the Lilypad stage - a good couple of hundred metres away. Why a substage, indeed, a chill-out zone, was twice as loud as one of the headline acts, I'll never know, but NIN were plagued by the same problems that Atari Teenage Riot encountered earlier in the day.
	Then came one of those magic moments which only a festival can provide. While the rest of the band left the stage, Trent filled the air with the soothing keyboard ambience of "The Frail". The band rejoined him, kicking back in with "The Wretched", and the rain began to tumble from the heavens as if it had been waiting for Mr Reznor's cue. Wow. The mosh pit went nuts, screaming "This is what it feels like" in unison as wave after wave of crowd surfers crashed overhead. After copping a few boots to the head, I remembered how much I detested crowd surfers and beat a hasty retreat to a safer vantage point. But once again, "Starfuckers Inc", "Closer" (the obvious crowd favourite) and the beautiful lullaby "Hurt" were fighting a losing battle against the Lilypad stage and The Cruel Sea, who were even further away. Disappointing to say the least. To top things off, I reached to my backpack to get a dry shirt, only to find that a good percentage of it hadn't survived the mosh - unfortunately, the compartment holding my shirt and the disc of photos I'd taken during the day was now being trampled by thousands of frenzied punters. ARRGGHH!!!!

I wandered around in a daze for a while, taking in some of Basement Jaxx's flamenco flavoured house smash "Ren-dez-vu" (complete with real acoustic guitar!), before moving back to the main stage for the Red Hot Chili Peppers. And fuck me with a stick if they didn't turn in one of the tightest performances I've heard since.....well, let's just say they were tight as the proverbial, and the classic songs just didn't seem to stop. "Around The World" and "Give It Away" sounded HUGE (why weren't NIN afforded the same dignity?), and Anthony Kiedis was joined by the largest assembly of would-be backing vocalists I've ever witnessed. But it was Flea, John Frusciante and Chad Smith (who also unleashed a drum solo) who really carried the show, and for a bunch of blokes on the wrong side of thirty, they rocked every bit as hard as the young guns from Shihad earlier in the day. The high school memories came flooding back with each track from Blood Sugar Sex Magik, "If You Had To Ask" and "I Could Have Lied" being particular highlights, but most of the fans seemed to be there for "Scar Tissue", the clear winner in the audience participation stakes. Not feeling the need to hear another version of "Under The Bridge", it was time to up stumps to The Boiler Room and prepare for The Chemical Brothers.

Unfortunately everyone else had the same idea, and the inadequacies of The Boiler Room were obvious as around 20 000 people tried to cram under a tent designed for less than half that many. A lone voice whispering "Surrender" announced the arrival of the lads, who were surrounded by 5 screens of utterly mind-blowing visuals and an array of synths, drum machines and other toys which had me barely containing my drool. Then came the words we'd all been waiting to hear - "Hey Girl, Hey Boy, Superstar DJ's, Here We Go!" And off we went, with every hand within a 500 metre radius waving with glee. With a sound which could only be described as phat, The Chemical Brothers took the crowd for a ride, and were clearly enjoying the power of their tunes as much as the mad punters cheering them on. The electro-breaks of "Music:Response" came next, followed by the funk-driven cry of "Back with another one of those Block Rockin' Beats!", which somehow managed to take the crowd to another level again. But dancing in a sardine tin isn't the most rewarding experience in the world (why the Chems weren't on the main stage is beyond me), and Reddog decided to call it quits and begin the futile search for the rest of his belongings.

What a day! The pros - a top-notch lineup, with each band putting in performances that were more than worthy of their inclusion on the bill. The cons - way too many punters in way too small a space, a layout which left much to be desired, and the shocking treatment given to Atari Teenage Riot and Nine Inch Nails in the volume department. All in all, an enjoyable, rewarding, but ultimately, soul-less day out. ~Kris Swales~