The Karnival recap no one asked for

TL;DR: saw a lot of friends and got really drunk 

Festivals are back baby and so is my desire to get absolutely filthy to some hardstyle. Karnival, or as I like to call it, the Aldi version of Defqon, saw ravers from each corner of Australia unite at Flemington Racecourse. After two years of lockdown slowly worsening my dance abilities, I was ready to get absolutely feral amongst a crowd of 30,000. The weather was set to be a beautiful 27 degrees, with only a slight chance of showers in the evening. It was the perfect day for a rave. 

With the weather looking stunning and my outfit ready to go, nothing could ruin this event, right? Wrong. The dreaded news dropped at midnight the night before; Malice would not be playing Karnival. The man who had brought me some of my favourite tracks, the tracks I would aggressively fist-bump to whenever a minor inconvenience occurred, would not be performing. Was there even a point of going anymore? (Yes, I just want to be dramatic). Alas, the show had to go on, and much excitement remained for the other artists performing. 

Getting into the festival was like crossing the seven seas. It was at least a 1km walk from where the uber dropped us off to where the entrance actually was. First, there was the vaccine check, too easy. Then there was the ID check. The security guard examined my ID as if he was trying to calculate my sun, moon, and rising signs. He even gave it the ol’ bend and reflect. After a solid 30 seconds, 20 of which I myself began to question the validity of my ID, I was let in. Finally, there was a bag check, which is set up to make you feel like you’re the main character on Border Security. Sunscreen? Not allowed. Lip balm? Not allowed. An opened box of tampons? Ooft you bet that’s not allowed. Being well versed in these peculiar festival restrictions, we swiftly made our way through into the showgrounds. Dave wanted to check out the merch stand first before everything sold out. We probably waited in that line longer than all the times I spent waiting in line at the bar combined. Turns out, a couple in front of us had decided to drop a whopping 1k on merch, which I don’t doubt will end up on marketplace at a grossly inflated price within the coming days.

After getting merch, it was time to get on the bevs. I was double-parked on the Smirnoff Lime Seltzers for a good two hours. I was feeling great and was at the height of my intoxication when Anderex and Rooler played. RooIer went absolutely off. The crowd moved in an esoteric unison, and when Klapongen dropped, I truly felt alive. This is what I had waited over two years for. However, I got way too ahead of myself. I was drunk by 5pm and nursing a hangover by 8. I kind of screwed myself over and wasn’t able to enjoy myself for some of my favourite artists. I chugged down a metric fuck tonne of water and made sure to have a feed in between sets (wherein which I met a lovely guy from Sydney who had helped set up the festival and was essentially being paid to boogie). It was very similar to my experience at Defqon Sydney 2018; peaking too early, having to leave before the last act, and throwing up at the train station. 

Although the hours between 5 and 8 were a blur, I remember catching up with a bunch of friends from different walks of life. Maybe I’m alone on this, but I feel as though COVID was able to give some of my old friendships a clean slate. After an unprecedented two years, the quarrels of my early 20s seem insignificant. If I started beef with you three years ago, it’s probably the last thing on my mind now. And to be completely honest, it’s always an ego boost running into so many people you know. It’s hard being popular. I ran into Jake, who dated my old friend Laura, and although the friendship was short-lived and centred around drugs and hardstyle, he was always a top bloke. I ran into James, another top bloke who kept me brief company when I would wander off from the group. Nothing beat seeing Scarlett, who I hadn’t seen since my Swinburne cheerleading days, who used any method possible to keep her diamanté bra secured. We danced and I caught up with her a couple of times throughout the night for a boogie. I also ran into Brody and the others with who I went to Defqon Netherlands in 2018. To recap, I ended the friendship shortly after the trip, in wake of an inappropriate joke being made. Thus begging a three-month hate campaign (to which Brody replied “three months, more like three years”, he was right to correct me). The last time I saw this group I was filled with so much anger and hostility, which in hindsight I would’ve been better off channelling elsewhere. I subtly addressed the feud we had all those years back, and by subtly I mean blatantly asking “hey do we still have beef?”. I mentioned how I overreacted, and how I was willing to move on from all the drama I unnecessarily caused. I was met with a round of fist-bumps, so it’s reassuring to know that maybe we have turned a new leaf, and I can begin to expand my hardstyle circle again. 

This brings me to my next point; the crowd. Men gathered in their matching fruit salad Jay Jay’s outfits, women in their fishnets and rhinestones, and there was a colourful abundance of TNs.  Besides the usual disrespectful fuckwits who are glued to their significant other, heavily swaying back and forth and shoving others while their jaw holds on by a thread, the crowd wasn’t bad. People didn’t mind when you had to slide through to get to a different section of the crowd, and room was made for those wanting to have a fat hakk (however I will suggest going to the outskirts of a crowd for maximum hakkability). However when DJ Isaac dropped the absolute banger that is “Burn in Hell”, an injustice was served. During the first drop he turned down the sound so he could hear the crowd yell his lyrics back to him, however, he was met with pure silence. Number 1, how embarrassing for poor DJ Isaac. Number 2, how can you not know the lyrics to this absolute tune? It’s literally three words; “oh my god”. I think the scene is slowly getting better though, and everyone is becoming more understanding of the fact that we are all here to enjoy the music. One thing I love about hardstyle festivals is the affirmations the DJ’s and MC’s will throw at you. Some of my favourites are “THIS IS OUR MUSIC” “WE ARE ALL FAMILY” and “WE COME TOGETHER AS ONE”. 

At 9:00 when I found myself asking a guy in line for the toilets if I can push in because I needed to throw up, I decided it was probably time to go home. Maya and Zinzan (yes his name is Zinzan let’s move on) had graciously offered me a lift home, and who in their right mind would give that up? As we were leaving it began to rain, which solidified my decision to go home. After one last cheeky munt and a bottle of blue Powerade, it was ready to clock off for the day. A good time was had, and I wish I had the energy to keep going until the end. Next time I won’t smash 6 seltzers in one hour, and maybe stick to a singular Redbull or something. HSU have teased another outdoor festival in Sydney, and I’m already itching for my next rave.