You see, kids, there comes a time for the most ardent festival-goers to throw in the towel, to realise there are better things to do than sweating in the sun with thousands of strangers for 10 hours, buying overpriced beer and somehow coming out of the mosh pit with your dignity – and belongings – intact.
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As the joints start to creak, a cup of tea and a good lie down start to have the same appeal as banging out to the Prodigy (RIP, Keith) with a belly full of booze and some mysteriously amazing cake someone brought from Nimbin.
But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to see some live music.
In the past decade or so, Splendour has precluded me from seeing Blur, the Cure and the Strokes in Brisbane.
Over the same period, Bluesfest meant I missed out on Beck, Iggy Pop, Madness and the Raconteurs (sorry, Saboteurs).
I am sure people with varying musical tastes would have their own list of missed opportunities over the years.
So while I will in no way celebrate Splendour’s demise, I won’t grumble either.
I’ll give a whistle, and look on the bright side.
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