Womadelaide festival 2016: 12 things we learned

1. Blister in the Sun takes on a whole new meaning in 30C heat

When US alt-punk rockers Violent Femmes kicked off their opening night sunset performance with a version of their signature song so languid, so pared-back, so melted it could have been scored by Salvador Dali, it instantly became the festival’s unofficial anthem. Blistering – or at the very least wilting – in the sun proved inevitable over the four-day festival, with 30C-plus temperatures and punishing humidity conducive to either chilling under a Moreton Bay fig or doing Bikram yoga. (This being a festival set in a botanic garden that also offered morning yoga classes, it was theoretically possible to do both). – JI

2. Womadelaide has its own in-house bat choir

Radical Son, Eska, Sampa the Great, Miles Cleret, DakhaBrakha: all the artists who performed on the Novatech stage were accompanied by an overhanging chorus of squawking flying foxes. The creatures became particularly cacophonous during Kev Carmody’s haunting didgeridoo solo, as though engaged in some primordial call-and-response. – JI

3. Dirty Dancing soundtrack + topless young men = field of screaming women

Djuki Mala, formerly known as the Chooky Dancers, have a serious side to their hour-long set of Indigenous and Chippendales-esque choreography performed to popular songs. Their show is a homage to their Elcho Island homeland, to the group’s late mastermind “Big Frank”, and to the preservation of their Yolngu culture against the malignant forces of addiction, incarceration and youth suicide. But it was the torso-rippling lads with their springy bodies and suggestive dance moves that we stayed for. Songs like Get Ur Freak On, Everybody Dance Now, Zorba the Greek, Singing in the Rain, Be My Baby – joyously danced to in an ever-shrinking array of skimpy costumes – ensured all generations could join in this giant hen’s party. – JI

4. Turbans are to Womadelaide what fascinators are to the Melbourne Cup

Gorgeous head wraps weren’t limited to the performers, although Angélique Kidjo, the queen of African music herself, certainly set the standard in a green traditional number. According to some of the headdress-sporting festival punters we spoke to, the tignon’s revival is as much about cultural reclamation as it is about beauty. For Claudia Vidal, a Melburnian of Colombian African descent, “it’s part of everyday life. I wear it to a festival as well as to go to work – it’s part of who I am. The origins [of the tignon] have not always been so beautiful though. In the Americas and Europe it was pushed on [black women] because white people couldn’t handle our curly hair.” – JI

5. Red is the new orange

French-Cuban twins Naomi and Lisa-Kaindé Díaz of Ibeyi got their prison chic on in fire engine-red jumpsuits, complete with chunky bling and high black boots. It was a sartorial fusion as eclectic as their sound, which combined old-school soul, trip-hop beats and acapela Yorùbá chants that honoured the orishas of thunder and the sea. Naomi, who straddles the cajón (box drum) and thumps her thighs and chest and clicks her fingers to drive the beat, has inherited the talent of her late Buena Vista Social Club percussionist father, Miguel “Angá” Diaz, and infused it with serious Parisian hip-hop street cred. – JI

6. Asha Bhosle proved old is gold

When you’re 82 years old, have recorded 13,000 songs, soundtracked hundreds of Hindi films and had Fatboy Slim remix a song about you, the whole world is your living room. And the thousands who gathered to see the Bollywood playback singer’s Saturday night performance were made to feel like old friends kicking back in her Bombay home. On a few ocassions, Asha Bhosle trundled out her 14-year-old granddaughter, who danced a classical Indian kathak before letting us judge whether she had inherited her grandmother’s voice. At another point, Bhosle, detecting sound problems, swished off stage and yelled loudly for her assistant, leaving one of her drummers with the awkward task of making audience small talk while wondering if his boss was ever going to return. Thankfully she did, and between songs chatted convivially with her Hindi-speaking fans, even indulging in some grandmotherly scolding: “You’re applauding after I sing – why don’t you sing with me?” – JI

7. Womadelaide provokes generational skirmishes

One 30-something Adelaide dude told me with disgust that Womadelaide is full of middle-class wankers “pretending they’re alternative by wearing a kaftan and listening to Cat Empire”, and he was only there under sufferance because his mate’s band was playing. That’s being way too harsh, but there are a lot of baby boomers at Womadelaide (drinking wine in the shade, carrying portable chairs), and there are a lot of kaftans. No one would go in there thinking it was Stereosonic.

Womadelaide has been going since 1992, and attracts a more even spread of ages than other festivals. This lends itself to a certain atmosphere: mellow, yes, but also slightly uptight. But hey, it’s all about the circle of life. One minute you are young and hating on Womadelaide, and the next thing you are there with your special chair and your pinot gris, feeling comfortable and happy in your worn-once-yearly kaftan. – BD

8. Seun Kuti likes to reclaim repressive acronyms

The electrifying Seun Kuti didn’t need to take his shirt off to prove that “Fela lives”. And with songs dedicated to the IMF (“international mother fuckers”) and THC (“the higher consciousness”), the Nigerian Afrobeat star left no doubt as to where he stands on his late father’s radical politics. – JI

9. Angélique Kidjo isn’t afraid to break rules

Beninese singer Angélique Kidjo has a long history of sticking it to the man. First, a school-age Kidjo resolved to become a musician in a country where female singers were afforded the status of sex workers. Later, she refused to sing the praises of Benin’s communist government, preferring to go into exile in France than kowtow to a repressive regime. And on Friday night, in her first Womadelaide appearance – backed by the full force of the Adelaide Symphony Orchestra – there was no way Kidjo was going to abide by the organiser’s strict “seated event only” rule. After a rousing speech about peace, love and the “human family”, Kidjo launched into a spirited rendition of Afrika, walked into the crowd and urged everyone to rise to their feet. Before long, there were thousands of swaying people with uplifted arms singing “Ashè é Maman, ashè é Maman Afirika” to the starry South Australian sky. – JI

10. South Australia’s nuclear destiny lies with Indigenous people

Since touching down in Australia a few days ago, the grandfather of the environmental movement, David Suzuki, revealed he has been “peppered with questions” from the media about whether South Australia is a suitable spot to dump the world’s nuclear waste. As SA awaits the full findings of the nuclear fuel cycle royal commission, Suzuki – who during his packed address to Womadelaide revealed he carries a traditional Kaurna name bestowed on him by an elder of the Adelaide region – said the long-term impact of storing nuclear waste remained unknown. However “the only group with any credibility on sustainability over thousands of years are the indigenous people everywhere. To South Australians – to all Australians – I say: if you want to deal seriously with the issue of nuclear waste, let the Kuarna and the other Indigenous groups make the decisions.” – JI

11. Just when you thought you had no more energy ...

... Along comes Palestinian four-piece 47Soul, who within seconds had the crowd bellydancing, pogoing and pulling muscles they never knew they had. Now based in east London, 47Soul’s combination of shamstep, dub and Afrobeat was the sound of a futuristic Arabic wedding colliding with revolutionary politics (cue lyrics like “Jerusalem is the prison of philosophy and religion”). The band even brought an element of fun to a simulated helicopter air raid as the audience were instructed to crouch down as the air filled with the sound of machine gun fire. As one satisfied customer said after the show: “They had funk, they had soul, they had politics, and they were topless.” – JI

12. The hippy stuff ain’t all bad

Womadelaide’s daily yoga classes are so mellow you could just do one downward dog then stretch out your shavasana for 50 minutes and no one is going to tell you off. The festival is held in a 34-hectare garden of several hundred trees, some of which are more than a century old. So if you want to take a break from the yoga, music and crowds, there are many shady and quiet spots to rest. Another great chill-out zone is the healing centre. Some of the state’s top masseurs work in lovely little tents where you can drift off to the sound of bands playing. Just don’t drift too far off. Last year one of the tents caught fire after an accident with a candle. This year nothing burnt down.

As for the food, it is a million times better than old-school pies, donuts and the usual fried festival food. If you want to graze on acai bowls, fresh coconut and vegan cuisine, it’s all here. – BD