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Music

I Went To Dark Mofo and Thought About Plato, My Bowels, and the End of the Earth

Shaking your ears, mind, and body parts at Hobart's moody jewel.

There's something disorientating about a bracing sub-five degrees celsius. You can't remember the last time you were warm, your body does weird things, and you're constantly on the move for someplace that's not bloody freezing. Yes Hobart can be cold, super cold, but it also has something with plenty of places to go and plenty of things to do to shake the shivers. That something is Dark Mofo and its hot-ticket gigs and exhibitions, raging bonfires, and wild feasts.

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We were there again this year (read about willies and stuff from 2014) to rattle our bones, and brains.

ANTONY AND THE TASMANIAN SYMPHONY ORCHESTRA

Image: Rosie Hastie

There's something of the Greek orator to Antony as she stands in front of the TSO—billowing in silken robes while they sit resplendent all in white. And it's not just the look—it's also the power of her voice, the ease of projection, the control, and the visceral impact it has on the listener. And that's not only us plebs in the audience, one of the violinists was visibly brought to tears somewhere near the end of the show. Antony is a class act.

THE BODY

Dudes, that was a whole lot of screaming goodness. You're kind of brutal like a Palaeolithic club fight. That was fun.

PALLBEARER

I wonder if these guys have ever thought about recording a fantasy fiction soundtrack. Solid riffage, and memorable three part harmonies (which were definitely tougher than that sounds).

EYE CIRCOM

Speaking of fantasy fiction, there's probably a fair bit of fan fiction written about The Boredoms' Yamantaka Eye. Maybe some of his helpers encircling him on laptops were blogging as they went? A slow burning master class in making a cool idea a greater, room-rattling reality.

MY DISCO

Last time we saw you, My Disco, it was on the stage at Meredith, and you were hitting us with your metronomic post rock minimalism. That's still there of course, but it seems that you've dug into something a little fuller and darker —something more post-apocalyptic maybe. We like. Highlights from the highlight of the highlighted festival: Guitarist Ben Andrews waving furtively to the stagehand for more smoke; drummer Rohan Rebeiro pummelling his way through the depths of a hypnotic five minute solo; and the dapper calm and anchoring of Liam Andrews on bass/vox.

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BLACKLIST

This year the Mofos moved the weekend after parties from the tunnelled system of The Odeon's bowels, which meant there was less hunting to be done. So there was a little less surprise (like Striborg playing in a cupboard) but a little more wow factor—seeing an impressively massive, writhing clump of people packed into a great old dame of a theatre. When we got there a body painted dancer was on stage balancing on a Swiss ball and popping ink cartridges in her mouth.

BASS BATH

We've been friends with Byron J Scullin for a while now so, knowing his talent, it wasn't really a surprise that his mini bass explosion was a kick. The briefing session given before you entered the giant sealed cooling unit might have given everyone the heebee jeebees about their insides liquefying, but instead we were treated to a sonic massage that could have lasted all day.

For more photos and ruminations on the week or so that was, visit Dark Mofo.

Thanks to MONA, Dark Mofo, and Tourism Tasmania for having us.