‘Yuck.’

‘Fucking yuck.’

Those were the first words to escape the mouth of Rob Copley (22), an Arts/Law student and self-described music aficionado, upon seeing the lineup for 2018’s Falls Festival. He said them loud enough for anyone to hear, hoping desperately someone would ask him for his nuanced, clever take on the comparative disappointment he felt with the lineup.

No-one asked.

But regardless, Rob took to the internet to vent his frustrations about the selection of musical artists. ‘I’ve seen them all before!’ he exclaimed, ignoring the fact that he has loved every act every time he has seen them prior.

‘Amy Shark - yawn!’ he suggested, ignoring the fact that ‘All Loved Up’ and ‘I Said Hi’ are not merely the incredible pop hits that this generation deserves, but are artistic works of such talent and passion that they have brought tears to the eyes of farmers suffering through drought.

However, in spite of his incessant criticism, it’s become fairly apparent that Rob is still going to attend Falls Festival. A message to his group chat, ‘sick one mark,’ started with ‘Fuck, this is shit aye,’ before finishing with ‘Can anyone get me in on the pre-sale?’

Several days later, his hands shaking with righteous anger, Rob picked up his credit card and started typing out the numbers into the payment facility to purchase Falls tickets.

His nimble, feminine fingers danced across the keyboard, glistening with the tears that fell from his eyes over the fact he’d have to spend his New Years’ Eve watching some objectively brilliant bands, masters of their craft, share their work with some random punters from Brisbane.

As he spent the hundreds of dollars, a feeling of true relief washed over him. He had just secured the best of both worlds - the moral indignation of lineup complaining, and the hedonistic joy of watching live music. Some days, it just works out for you.

And today was that day for Rob Copley.

No more to come.