Not quite as big as Splendour in The Grass or The Big Day Out, the V Festival is slowly gaining notoriety as a very cool day in the mud. Last year’s V Fest was a muddy occasion, and spotted was a few people getting down ‘n’ dirty slipping over and ruining their “perfect” festival dress.

After receiving a heap of complaints, mostly from festival Barbie dolls sending their dry cleaning bills to organisers, this year’s V festival was prepared. Well, not really; they just moved the stages away from the swampy bits. And punters came prepared, wearing gum boots and hoisting umbrellas. It was a certainly a more laid-back and practical approach, compared to other festivals.

Arriving, we were handed a timetable, which, we were told was outdated and to check the big screens with updated timetables. Looking at the “updated” timetables on the screen, however, we noticed that timetable was actually outdated also. Lucky I toted around the electronic, correct version on my iPhone; I had to fumble around with fellow punter’s iPhones to bring theirs up too. Technology stumps even iPhone users?

Luckily enough, many smart punters were aware of these errors and I didn’t eye anyone losing it because they missed their fave band because of the stuff up all day.

Greeted with a free Coke zero on arrival (in which we used to mix with Vodka a friend shamelessly stuffed into her bra: yes boys, her boobs suffered a ‘birth defect’), the sun was shining and we were set for a great day.

First artist we saw was a rather sweaty Duffy. She complained about the heat; being from Wales, it would have been quite a radical change of humidity. She looked perfect, as I stared down at my rather worn Converses and started to feel depressed; Are her cheekbones really as perfect as they look? Why don’t I have those cheekbones? WHY AREN’T I BLONDE?

Moving on, we headed to the bar. Best thing about this festival is that there was no drink tickets needed, saving a lot of time in having to line up in queues and queues. The drinks were pricey, but that’s a given. Drinking mainly $8 Becks all day, I left poor, but I also left with my dignity. No ‘bra-stuffed vodka-drinking’ for me!

Moving onto Elbow, it was a peaceful set from the Manchester lads. Mainly a lot of Europeans were hanging out in the first few rows, which wasn’t surprising, considering my Aussie friends had no idea who they were, so I ended up watching them alone whilst they sat by the Jagermister bar. They’re huge in England, so it was weird seeing them play to only a couple of people. I was right up the front, which was surreal; you probably couldn’t even get near a barrier in England with those guys playing. Lead vocalist Guy Garvey received a symphony of “Awwwwweeees” when he described the song he wrote the night he fell in love with his wife, and with a set like this, it left me feeling warm and fuzzy too.

I ended up running to meet my friends and dragging them to The Temper Trap, who had no idea who they were either, but I hadn’t been able to shut up about the Melbourne quartet ever since we left Coolangatta at 11am that morning. We scored a front row spot, right in front of the enthusiastic bassist Johnny Aherne, whom my mate Michelle now idolises after he strutted around stage, “in the zone”, connecting with his bass and the crowd, looking like he was enjoying every minute of the electric audience, 95% of them probably intoxicated, but it was clear to see how passionate he was about music. Vocalist Dougy Mandagi was mesmerising to watch also, dancing around stage like he’s been touring from years. The whole band was comfortable, they sounded great, and they were easily the best performance of the festival.

Next up was Razorlight. I’ve never seen a man sweat so much in my life. Front man Johnny Borrell started out the set wearing a trendy blue blazer, probably found in some upscale Op Shop in London, but by the end of the set we were left wondering how he was still managing to wear clothes, or how anyone could take a bath in his own sweat like he was; his white collared shirt he was wearing was dripping like it had just come out of the washing machine mid-cycle. A good set, not really too energetic, but then again, how can anyone be energetic if pumping out tunes alone could induce a sweat bath? Oh, did I mention they’re also from the U.K? (see: Duffy)

We started running from Razorlight to The Kills. We arrived to hear guitarist Jamie Hince joking that the dim lighting was probably because of Earth Hour last night being carried over to the next day. Nobody laughed. There were so many trendy indie kids gathered in this spot you could probably compile a “Where’s Seth Cohen?” series of books based on different photographs of the crowd. We managed to get a front row spot, smack bang in front of vocalist Alison Mosshart, who openly smoked and sat on an amp mid-song tuning her bass guitar. It was cool. So cool I took a ton of photos just so I could copy what she was wearing; I want a holey, big singlet and leopard print opshop-esque type shirt. She would look good in anything though. Too bad I couldn’t say the same thing for Jamie- with Kate Moss as a partner; you’d reckon he would invest in some new clothes every now and then, even if they are holey. Their set was full of attitude, it bought back the rock ‘n’ roll vibe. Even with the lighting that dim, it resembled a smoky gig, full of sex and drugs; it was great! Second best performance of the day.

The band we had been waiting to see were The Kaiser Chiefs. Having missed them before because A) I didn’t get a ticket to Splendour in 2007 and B) My friends unsuccessfully snuck into Splendour in 2007, we couldn’t wait to dance around and scare the crowd. They didn’t disappoint; front man Ricky Wilson ran (literally) around stage like he had either taken a line a speed or he’s suffering ADD and hasn’t been diagnosed. Poor guy. But it was thrilling to watch. At one stage he even climbed up one of the stage towers and sung whilst doing so. He stage dived into the crowd, started moshing whilst singing I Predict A Riot, and somehow made it back in time to finish the song. Rock and Roll! We wanted him to come over to where we were standing, however he didn’t make it. Dammit! It was electrifying; I had lost my voice screaming and singing and jumping around by the end of the set. Wilson was so buzzing I thought at one point he would collapse from exhaustion; his vocals sounded PERFECT, I wondered how someone so energetic could sound that good. At one point Wilson made everyone scream so loud that it shouted “DO YA HEAR THAT SNOW PATROL?” (who were playing a set on another stage). It was fun and it’s all a part of the Kaiser’s terrific live set; a set I don’t think I will ever forget.

Having seen The Killers play in 2007 to a rowdy bunch of drunk bogans at the Big Day Out, I was expecting the same sort of crowd. It was totally different. Everyone was really quite reserved and seemed bored. Well, they only seemed bored because it took about half an hour for The Killers to actually get onto stage. I never thought The Killers would be diva’s…but they set decorations and light show was a bit too O.T.T for a swampy Gold Coast resort. That’s their act though; they do everything O.T.T these days. Leading man Brandon Flowers came out on stage, wearing that blazer with a beaver or some wild animal stuck to the shoulders, like he’s worn about 200 times now; it would probably smell a bit like a dead animal. The Killers set was fantastic though, Flowers sounded great, and punters were getting into it. At one point Flowers stopped singing as he spotted five people stacked on each others shoulders and clapped daintly, like the Queen probably would if she fronted a indie synth band. The rest of the band members stopped and followed suit in cheering the human stack on too, a sign that they haven’t lost their roots.

The heavens opened, about three songs away from The Killers’ finish, with everyone getting soaked, well and truly. It was flooding, at least my Converses were anyway. But with a great set, people stayed until the end, dancing in the rain, laughing, and singing along. As the bus departed, smelling like a wet dog that’s taken a roll in a swamp, I looked over to a girl who was Blonde and wearing the “perfect” festival dress, ruined by mud and rain, who was smiling and laughing; sure, last year’s V Fest was a rude shock to Barbie dolls, but this year it was all about the experience.

- Hannah Robertson