The desperation to crawl out of the city, past the horses, into the countryside, and kick it back like Alice in Wonderland was manifest at this year’s Lost Paradise. A wild eucalypt valley morphed into a four day festival that took us all the way to the New Year. The scene introduced by a naked man, pushed by police into the back of a paddy wagon, within 15 minutes of arriving.

Tides of biodegradable glitter floated down the river. Around inflatable flamingos. Along the beach lined main stage. Past the disco ball lush field rave that was Lost Disco. And numerous other micro DJ stages, on submarines, in yurts and pop up old school house verandas.

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Lost Paradise – Crowd shot Day 1

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Rufus Day 1

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San Cisco Day 1

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Nadia Rose Day 1

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Meg Mac Day 1

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It was a sea of Adonisian man gods and dancing women, looking for a hustle, with their tridents and chest sparkle. A roger ramjet of festivities. Glittered nipples and cheeky bikini bottoms. Yet still kid friendly, somehow. Powered by nice vibes and good people.

In the heat induced haze that is summer, I can confirm that bands made it up on stage. Even cared that we wore sunscreen. Main stage line up was mainly indie rock but bust out into some neo soul, hip hop, rap and brassy reggae moments. RÜFÜS caused some energetic chaos. Synth-pop veterans Little Dragon came from the snows in Scandinavia to bring some weird and wonderful sounds and a ethereal show. Special call outs to Cigarettes After Sex and Cut Copy. Also Noname for her air kicking pow pow energy along with Billy Davis & The Good Lords. And FKJ for straight out jamming on stage, which was all so chill.

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Meg Mac – Day 1

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Cigarettes After Sex – Day 1

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Sloan Peterson – Day 1

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Lost Paradise – Crowd Shot Day 1

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Lost Disco was four days of back to back DJ sessions.

There was a burning man vibe. The environment exploded and collapsed, structured grew out of wood, imaginary things manifested, lanterns glowed neon, sometimes. Objects appeared out of nowhere. A spray painted piano dropped by a creek bed, with dirt between the keys. Double body hammocks stretched out between eucalypts. Chairs knee deep in water. Men in floral tights playing with glowing hula hoops. Spontaneous street parades drove off into the night, carrying their roving drum sets with them.

Strange, wonderful trends bloomed to their delirius conclusions. The self Christmas tree movement thrived, where battery powered Christmas lights are recycled into glowing human effigies, to live on, as glowing cruves on the dance floor. Party sticks, the shaking pinatas, stolen traffic control signals, illuminated head hunting half dolls on sticks made it all a little weirder. If I give you one outfit moment, thought there were many, it would be this: A man length yellow silk kimono, a fluffy koala bag on a man with a disco ball around his neck, picking out his boche club. Cross dressing was the new clothes.

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Tourist – Day 2

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Little Dragon – Day 2

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DMA’s – Day 2

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Lost Paradise – Day 2

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A love lounge and sensorium popped up. One woman at a typewriter punched out pro bono letters to lovers old and new. Another, in a star printed body suit and pink wig, ran a feather slowly up and down the body of a festival goer. The festival sponsored white witch cast personal personalised spells, between candles, potions and Persian rugs.

There were drum sessions in which audience five year olds rocked out their own microphoned solos. An evident vibe of “feeling ok” and namaste.

Maybe we needed Tantric Shi’ism with violins and drums. Hungover yoga. And multiple other new age sessions run out of tepees, with the guidence of bandana wearing gurus with silver hair. It felt good. Frequencies were raised with love. Possibly, other things, also.

Friendships solidified over matching watermelon pyjamas and dancing on side stage pylons. The new year kicked in, to stage side confetti bombs, to Client Liaison and 80s glam dancing on the main stage.

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Tourist – Day 2

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Sampa The Great – Day 2

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Nao – Day 2

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FKJ – Day 2

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A “Lost Paradise” sign glowed down onto the festival grounds, instagrammed with mooning youngsters.

But then, in a final grandiose and cheesy movement, someone took the letters that made up “Lost” . And so, cemented the ephemeral experience as “Paradise” proper. The festival became a self-filling paradise prophecy, the free-wheeling experience we all hoped to find.

Happy 2018.

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Check out Ro Llauro’s gallery of Day 1 HERE

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Check out Ro Llauro’s gallery of Day 2 HERE

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AMNPLIFY – DB