I’m standing in a field in the middle of the country in the middle of the night, watching a glittering set from the American synth-pop duo Magdalena Bay. Midway through the groove of Killing Time, as colours and costumes swirl on stage, my cousin taps me on the shoulder and points to the sky. Thousands of strangers look up at the same time as a star burns slowly across the black night.
The next day my friend tells me it wasn’t a shooting star, but rather space junk. But we agree that whatever it was encapsulated a weekend at Golden Plains: a place where magic appears unexpectedly, and not all is as it seems.
Now in its 17th year, the two-day camping event is going from strength to strength. While it used to be easy to source last-minute entry in the lead-up to the long weekend, this year tickets were in constant demand, with wannabe punters still begging for leads even after it had already kicked off. It’s not hard to understand the festival’s appeal: it’s an eclectic affair that provides an avenue of discovery for curious music lovers – a rarity in the time of algorithmic curation – and feels like a private universe, with tents and couches scattered across the Nolan family farm, and doof sticks sparkling like stars in the night.
True to form, some of this year’s highlights aren’t the headliners, but smaller acts from closer to home. Sydney’s RMFC ramps up the energy on Sunday with a pummelling punk set sprinkled with saxophone. Cranking up the distortion to breaking point, Auckland rock duo Elliot & Vincent makes brutal noise that sounds like much more than the sum of their parts. Skeleten, the alias of electronic producer Russell Fitzgibbon, is surprisingly a full band setup – an extended version of early single Territory Day is blissful.
Interstitial DJs also often provide highlights – a run of indie sleaze classics, from the Strokes to Bloc Party and Vampire Weekend, is a nostalgic Sunday evening delight, as is an intoxicating Radiohead remix in the drizzling rain.
This year, Irish flags and accents float around “the Sup”, as the Meredith Supernatural Amphitheatre is affectionately nicknamed; two of the country’s acts are major draw cards. Hip-hop trio Kneecap requests that the stage lights are turned down low so barely anything is visible but a projection of their signature balaclava, with videos playing in the eye holes. It’s a chaotic, energetic set – 45 minutes flies by, with an easy flow between the three vocalists, who encourage the crowd to open up a mosh pit and who lead memorable chants, from advocating for Palestine to irreverently condemning Jeff Bezos and Margaret Thatcher. They transition into a more club-heavy beat towards the end of the set, making way for late-night DJs.
The other Irish act, Fontaines DC, got my Boot. Their set draws heavily from the 2024 album Romance, and singer Grian Chatten lurches over the microphone, delivering his erudite songs with an Ian Curtis-esque drawl and energy. The intensity is broken up with tracks such as the jangly Favourite and the anthemic new single It’s Amazing To be Young, but it’s otherwise all mood, with minimal chatter. They’re one of the world’s best bands right now and only getting bigger, playing a sold-out 45,000-capacity show in London later this year – seeing them in the intimacy of the Sup is, well, supernatural. So is PJ Harvey’s preceding set as a lightning storm is brewing overhead. The singer is bewitching as she flits between a chair and the rest of the stage, playing a mixture of old and new material as the sky flashes. The storm never completely hits, but the atmosphere is fittingly haunting.
There are soulful moments, too. At first, Gamilaraay singer-songwriter Thelma Plum seemed to me like a strange choice for the festival, but the moment she takes the stage, it makes perfect sense. Plum’s 2024 album I’m Sorry, Now Say It Back is far more dynamic live than it is on record – Nobody’s Baby is a highlight, but it’s all fabulous. Jada Weazel’s Sunday morning set follows on in the same vibe – the Queensland R&B singer’s awkward banter belies her confident vocals, and a moving cover of Olivia Dean’s The Hardest Part washes any hangovers away.
The most unexpectedly entertaining performance of the weekend is Robin S, whose 1992 single Show Me Love has been given eternal life in samples by Charli xcx and Beyoncé in recent years. An announcement that sounds a lot like a late-night infomercial plays over the speakers not once but twice before the singer appears just past midnight. She sings Show Me Love a few times and leads “the biggest choir I’ve ever taught” in scat-singing, before thanking the crowd for staying with her for “well over 30 minutes” – she barely cracks 20. She’s gone as quickly as she arrived, leaving a bemused Sup in her wake. It’s utterly absurd, and we’re still unpacking what we witnessed on the dusty drive home on Monday.
It’s all part of the fun of Golden Plains, a festival that has deservedly achieved cult status in Australia for its community, adventurous programming and bucolic scenery. Hits and misses, sure – but it all adds up to something singular and sublime.
Golden Plains 2025 took place March 8-10 at the Meredith Supernatural Amphitheatre, Victoria.
