From Garage Hobby to Geelong Gem: How One Festival Defies the Odds
On a recent Saturday night, a peculiar brand of controlled chaos unfolded in Geelong. In a room thick with the humid energy of enthusiastic bodies, limbs flailed, and a palpable sense of both catharsis and community filled the air. When someone stumbled, they were instantly lifted back to their feet. On stage, Brendan Huntley of Eddy Current Suppression Ring belted out their anthem “Insufficient Funds,” his voice raw with the desperation of economic hardship. “There’s no money there! No money there!” he wailed, channeling the anxieties of a generation. Amidst this exhilarating pandemonium, the organiser, Billy Gardner, watched on with a quiet, contented smile.
Just a fortnight prior, Gardner, 33, was meticulously organising products on warehouse shelves, a stark contrast to the vibrant energy of the music scene he cultivates. He describes his role running the record label Anti Fade and the alternative festival Jerkfest in his hometown of Geelong as a “hobby,” despite the significant time and effort involved. While these ventures might not capture the attention of the masses, they hold immense value for a dedicated community.
Buzz Clatworthy from the Sydney band RMFC, who has toured Europe, credits Jerkfest with significantly boosting his band’s audience. “If it wasn’t for Jerkfest, we wouldn’t have got the audience we have,” he stated. “It matters a lot more to me than any of those bigger festivals.” This sentiment rings particularly true as larger music festivals grapple with sustainability issues, leading to widespread cancellations and prompting national discussions about their viability in the current economic and cultural landscape.
The Unsustainable Effort of Passion
While major festivals face collapse, Jerkfest has quietly celebrated its 11th year, a testament to its enduring appeal. With around 550 attendees and ticket prices under $90, it operates on a significantly smaller scale than the thousands required for large-scale festival sustainability. Unlike the recent, highly publicised cancellations that have left punters out of pocket and businesses with unsellable stock, Jerkfest embodies a different model. The “unsustainable element,” if one can call it that, lies not in financial losses but in the sheer dedication of individuals.
Kate Berry, who has successfully run the independent OK Motels festival in regional Victoria for a decade, expressed her frustration with the current industry dynamics. “The big dogs sit at the top of the pile and do the least amount of work,” she observed. “People like Billy and the bands that drive to Geelong with their freaking [gear] in their boot are eating packet noodles.” Berry believes that in a country that often values its music culture retrospectively, it should still be possible to earn a living from music in the present.
For those involved in the counterculture that Jerkfest champions, the pursuit of profit has never been the primary motivation. “I just think if you’re coming to the music industry to make money, you come into it for the wrong reasons,” Gardner explained. He believes the true richness of this scene lies not in financial gain but in the deep sense of community it fosters. Berry echoes this sentiment, suggesting that the downfall of larger festivals stems from their attempt to cater to everyone, unlike events like Jerkfest, which are born from a genuine passion and a deep connection to the local scene. “Billy is a true champion of his community – that’s why it works,” she said. “There’s no line between who is on stage and who is watching, they are all peers.”
Geetroit Rock City: A Geelong Legacy
Geelong, located about an hour southwest of Melbourne, possesses a strong, albeit sometimes understated, rock and roll heritage. Grant Gardner, Billy’s father and a former bassist for the influential late-1980s Geelong punk band Bored, attests to the city’s enduring musical spirit. “Geelong’s got a great history of rock’n’roll,” he said. “We’re hardcore in Geelong. It’s been that way for a real long time.” He recalls the early days of his band, describing a “rock’n’roll army of kids” who fiercely supported them.
Grant Gardner, now a proud observer, remembers his initial skepticism when Billy first proposed the festival. “In the very early days, he was telling me about this concept and I’m going, ‘You’re joking me. How are you gonna pull this off?'” he admitted. “But someone’s gotta do it. I’m very proud.” The decision to host the festival in Geelong, rather than the larger hubs of Melbourne or Sydney, is a significant part of its charm and success. It draws attendees from across Australia and even from Melbourne via the V-Line. One social media comment aptly captured this local pride, referring to Geelong as “Geetroit Rock City,” a playful nod to the KISS song and film.
Crucially, Jerkfest also cultivates a growing audience of younger Geelong residents, introducing them to the vibrant local music scene. This year, 22 bands performed across two stages at the Barwon Club Hotel, ensuring a seamless flow of music. Photographer Jamie Wdziekonski, who has documented Jerkfest since 2017, sees it as a vital introduction to the local scene for many. Bridie Coughlin, a venue booker who previously worked at the pub, highlights Gardner’s knack for identifying emerging talent. “Some of these bands, we’re kind of capturing at the right time,” she said. “Give it another year, and some of these bands will move on to bigger capacity venues, bigger festivals. Billy is really good at catching bands just before they kind of explode.”
This foresight is not hyperbole. Amyl and the Sniffers, who played Jerkfest in 2018, have since achieved global recognition, supporting AC/DC and headlining major events. Jake Robertson, a friend and bandmate of Gardner’s, notes the shift in the scene: “I used to help scout bands to get them to play and try and convince Melbourne bands that Geelong was worth coming to. Now people beg Billy to play.” The focus remains on discovering bands that are “new, or doing something different.”
These formative experiences, once common in house parties, are becoming increasingly rare due to rising living costs. “People can’t afford to live in houses that could be a house party house,” Robertson lamented. “I haven’t played a house party for 10 years.” This underscores the importance of spaces like Jerkfest, where community can flourish and evolve. Mikey Young from Eddy Current Suppression Ring emphasised the need to “maintain that connection and keep the culture thriving down there.”
The festival cultivates an electric atmosphere, with each act, from the raw energy of Station Model Violence to the infectious rhythms of Wrong Way Up and the indie charm of The Cannanes, met with enthusiastic anticipation. “Every time we play it’s like the best show we’ve ever done,” said Buzz Clatworthy of RMFC. “There’s such a specific energy to playing here.” This energy can be overwhelming, creating a sense of impending explosion, which then dissolves into joyous release. For Billy Gardner, these moments are the ultimate reward: “Every year has a lot of moments,” he said. “I’m just there, smiling.”
Photography: Jamie Wdziekonski
