The year is 2012. The scene: a music festival. A cool & quirky band of hipster princesses are about to take the stage to play some indie pop for the 8500 music fans which is in attendanc;e. Watching from PIP (Pretty Important People) cocktail bar are music enthusiasts Chris Joannou (Sliverchair), “Fitzy” Ryan Gerald and noted music festival veteran Kylie Speers.
The band begins to play. Their style is alternative rock. sundresses; and back-up dancers are petite hippies. Chris Joannou, Fitzy and Kylie Speers each take a sip of the deliciously refreshing cocktails prepared for them by the legendary Toko crew. Fitzy observes, “wow this is sum fucken boring shit. its lucky there hot chicks or id probably wanna go shoot my self or somthing.”
Chris Joannou considers what he has just heard as he takes another sip of his cocktail. This sip equals the previous sip in enjoyability, he notes. “Ummm comeon mate. It’s not that bad. Sure it might not be your cup of tea but those babes can play.” He looks down at his shoes. He looks past his shoes at the dirt. Who knew what secrets lay beneath its brown surface. An army of vengeful tree roots marshalling its forces for a brutal attack on humankind for the centuries of exile that have been imposed upon them. He shudder.
As the song progresses, Kyle Speers takes another sip of her Toko cocktail. Wow, yum. Really great cocktail. “Hey I been to aloT of music festivals and no one has cocktails like this. Delish!” She sips her cocktail. Yum it is just so nice. “Ahaha, I LOEV music festivals, summer days, friends. long hugs. dimples. matt corby is MINE bitchez. i can be super sweet or a total bitch so dont get on my bad side.” Chris Joannou and Fitzy nod sagely. It is spoken.
The Daily Telegraph’s Music Editor Kathy McCabe, who has been hiding in the air duct the whole time, presses stop on her Dictaphone and goes home to transcribe what she has heard. Outside, in the sunshine, The Panics fly the flag with a gorgeous set. Denim diapers. Shiny pop.