Shitting myself in front of twelve-thousand people

My love for the Meredith Supernatural Amphitheatre – aka The Sup’ – began on a muggy December night in 2006 doing interpretive dance and singing “I’ve had the time of my life” after Datatrock, then sweating deep into the AM to The Presets, Cornelius and Girl Talk.

I’ve been writing and dreaming about Meredith and Golden Plains ever since. It’s the one stage but one thousand different parties thing. It’s the way these festivals are elite but never elitist. It’s the mysterious Aunty Meredith whose kind spirit permeates every moment and elevates us all to greatness.

But DJing it? That’s like programming ABC’s rage and watching the reactions irl. I was lucky enough to be an interstitial DJ at Meredith in 2015 and it’s in my top three life highlights, wedged in between the birth of my daughters.

This was something else though – Golden Plains Sweet Sixteen hit different.

I emailed the booker with a polite, here-if-ya-need-me letter, explaining why I’d love to be an interstitial DJ again. No response. Be patient, Lightbulb. I did a follow-up three weeks later and not long after received an email confirming I got the gig. My head started spinning.

For the next 14 weeks, every time I heard a banger on the radio, shopping at Coles or blasting from someone’s phone on the Craigieburn line, a speech bubble would form next to my head: “Will this song work at Golden Plains?”

I put the call out – “What would you play in The Sup’?” – and all sorts of requests came in. Some were OK (Floating Points’ “Birth 4000” starts strong but doesn’t really go anywhere), some odd (two people wanted “Just The Thing” by Paul Mac) and some brilliant (WAR – “Low Rider” [Kyle Watson remix], Renee Geyer – “Say I Love You.”)

I was told I’d be deejaying the Sunday night between Jeff Mills’ Tomorrow The Harvest Comes and Black Country, New Road, King Stingray, Cymande, The Streets and Sunshine & Disco Faith Choir. I started sculpting five sets to galvanise The Sup’ on the festival’s closing night.

Wake up dusty, put on a kaftan and St Vinnies jewellery and feel like I may have done myself a disservice by staying up so late dancing. Remind myself I don’t have enough time in my Gcal for self-doubt, head to Inspiration Point, half-nap, half-meditate and slowly get back from a 5/10 to low 8s.

Take it easy all day, stay hydrated, carb-load then head backstage at 6 PM after getting lots of “break several legs” messages from mates. Chat with a few industry peeps I know and try to control my nodding-and-intently-listening face as my heart starts to pump drum’n’bass at 170 beats per minute. 

It’s nearly go-time, so I collect a pink flamingo, another espresso martini, some sparkling water and carry all my stuff up to the shipping container DJ booth. My hands are full, so I ask the security guard if he can open the large grey door for me. “You do it mate,” he says. “Thanks!” I say with a shit-eating grin. Keeping me humble, I guess.

6.45 PM: I put my USBs in, practise my first two mixes and get ready for Jeff Mills’ performance to end. The last drum hits and fades, the crowd claps, I wait a respectful amount of time and then bring the volume up on “PIMP,” an instrumental cover of 50 Cent. We’re on.

Those steel drums sound divine. I echo it out after 30 seconds and bring in a secret weapon, The Reflex Revision of Talking Heads’ “Burning Down The House.” It’s landing well and then up comes David Byrne’s damaged preacher man: “365 degrees, burning down the house.”

6.50 PM: My face may be saying, “I’m having the best time,” but my body is saying, “Panic attack,” as I’m reminded why I have strictly one coffee a day, not three. I breathe through it, spray Rescue Remedy on my tongue and take a sip of water. I try to laugh at the meme I saw of someone loading up on filter coffee. Back on track.

6.55 PM: I follow with Britney Spears’ “I’m a Slave 4 You.” It’s a stripper anthem and I see a few people de-robing while someone sprays water mist on their face.

7.01 PM: End the set strong with Fred again.., Bontan, a “California Dreaming” remix by local gun Post Nut Clarity and Radiohead’s “The National Anthem.” Everyone is beaming. A group of people dressed as chefs at the front are waving their wooden spoons to the beat. Feels like we’ve unlocked something.

8.05 PM: Garish lights get switched on and moths and cockroaches start dive-bombing me and bouncing off my face. That’s showbiz baby! Mix in a breakbeat remix of “Orinoco Flow” before activating Dimitri From Paris’s re-edit of Prince’s “I Wanna Be Your Lover.” It has lots of crowd noises and I figure this will trick people into cheering and singing – and, well, it does.

8.10 PM: Mix in rare versions of songs by Dee-lite, Hot Chocolate and War and sense something very big is happening. Is that a few boots I can see being waved at me? Surely not.

8.28 PM: Finish big with “It Just Won’t Do” by Tim Deluxe and see frothing minor celebrities, groups of people dressed as bananas, and a newly married couple all going bananas.

8.30 PM: Have a very long and satisfying wee. Decide to stay in the booth while King Stingray are on and stay in the zone. All the doofsticks look amazing bobbing in time with the music under red and blue sweeping lights.

8.40 PM: Dinner is delivered to the DJ booth and it’s delicious.

9.20 PM: A friend of mine reckoned “Beds Are Burning” would go well after King Stingray. He wasn’t wrong. I see a lot of people singing, “The time has come / To say fair’s fair / To pay the rent / To pay our share.” Feels extra-potent after Uncle Barry laid down some hard truths earlier in the day about how badly First Nations people have been treated.

9.25 PM: I change up the energy with “Say I Love You,” then really send it with Dave Spoon’s remix of Dizzee Rascal’s “Flex.” A friend says later, “We went to go to the toilet then heard Dizzee Rascal come on so we sucked the wee back in and ran down.” I’m putting that as my sole endorsement on LinkedIn.

9.45 PM: Time to slow it down with my second secret weapon: “Red Right Hand” by Nick Cave and The Bad Seeds (Mojo Filter remix). The crowd erupt with a reverential “Whoa” and I see a lot of boots go up. This can’t be happening.

9.50 PM: Cymande come on a little late so I get to play “You Give Me Something” by Jamiroquai and can see people singing it into each other’s faces really loud. Funk always plays well in The Sup’, especially with everyone exhausted after two 38-degree days.

10.50 PM: Music moves in 20-year cycles and breakbeats are definitely back. It feels right to drop “Get Up! Go Insane!” by Stretch & Vern (Plump DJs remix), which samples “Jump Around” and has a big horn fake-out that suggests it will drop into House of Pain. Keep ‘em on their toes.

10.55 PM: I bring in Wilson Picket’s “Land of 1000 Dances” for the “Nahhhh nah nah nah nahhhh” singalong. But I have a wicked plan: it’s time for drum’n’bass, which as you now know, astute reader, hurtles along at 170 bpm and – WAHEY – that’s the same tempo as “Land of 1000 Dances.”

I opt for Nia Archives’ “Off Wiv Ya Headz.” I nearly second-guess myself but go through with theatrically pretending to rip my scone off when the chorus finally drops. A mate in the front keeps shouting, “I know your brother. He’s from Berwick!”

Slot in “Hide U” by Kosheen afterwards because the crowd is a little older and wiser and they pick up what I put down.

12.20 AM: I do some push-ups, get into my amateur MSAC Mechanisms basketball singlet and try to fight the heartburn I’m getting from tequila and soda. (Oh boo-hoo, DJ man).

12.30 AM: Crucial moment. Begin with the “Hello boys and girls” loop from “The Salmon Dance” into another Chemical Brothers track, “Got To Keep On,” then notice “Don’t You Want Me” by the Human League sitting in my wild cards folder, begging to be played.

12.40 AM: I go for it and – fuck me sideways – I feel like I’m at a Premier League derby it’s so loud. I miss the perfect cut by this much when the crowd bellows “Ohhhhhh-ohhh” and have a chuckle to myself.

12.50 AM: I play a new French house track with children’s vocal samples to remind everyone they’re still kids. It absolutely slams. A buddy in the front row with Marimekko plate pupils screams, “You’re killing it!” and I feel overwhelmed but fight back tears because you can’t mix through blurry eyes.

12.55 AM: One track to go. Do I go trancey? Do I play rock’n’roll? Loved-up disco? I opt for New Order’s “Bizarre Love Triangle” (Shep Pettibone 12” remix) because it layers each instrument beautifully and teases the most divine synth line into, “Every time I think of you / I feel a shot right through with a bolt of blue.” Get a bit cheeky and mix in “212.”

Job done.

Arrive home on Monday afternoon and turn on my phone to dozens of DMs and texts. Some highlights:

“Appreciate you playing ‘Bizarre Love Triangle’, my dad would play that in the car.”
“Renee Geyer ‘Say I Love You’ made me so happy, I don’t think I’ve ever offered the boot to an interstitial DJ.”
“Omg!!! The Bateau Blanc mix sent me back to my early French childhood! I lost my mind!”
And my fave screenshot from a private group chat: “It was proper gritty grimy explosive punch your lights out fucked.”

Shall we do it all again at The Night Cat in June? I’ll bring the beats, you bring your boots.

DJ Joey Lightbulb presents Winter of Disco Content at The Night Cat, Fitzroy, on Sat June 29. Tickets on sale here