For the curious,
and especially for those who may find this website confusing, or occasionally out of date, here is a summary of the policies, operations and general gist of Format Collective Inc.
Lifted, for the most part, from the introduction to the 2012 Format Festival Programme Guide.
What is Format?
Format Collective is a group of artists, writers, musicians and party technicians loosely based around the Format Zine Shop in Adelaide’s CBD. Aside from the zine shop, we’re responsible for monthly-ish exhibitions, regular live music gigs, random acts of public art, a nifty lo-fi recording studio and this here annual Format Festival.
Each member of the Collective is autonomous, answerable to nobody and nothing but a vague sort of consensus. Everyone does their own thing with the space, and once a week we all meet up at the shop to let each other know what we’ve done and to whom we should be apologising. If you were to assign Format an ideology it would be “anarcho-situationism” or “techno-libertarianism” or “neo-leisure revivalism” or “naive post-entertainment-utopianism” or “party-to-survivalism”.
Do you guys get paid?
lol, no. Sometimes we’ll nab 20 bucks from the til for cabfare or chicken nuggets. Format is run by volunteers, so almost all the money goes to artists and the rich folks who own the building.
What do you sell here?
Zines, records, drinks and nice times.
Can I have my Birthday Party here?
What’s with the attitude man?
Sorry, we’re just tired. Most of us study, or have real jobs, or belong to a generation that is more comfortable relating to people via smart phones than IRL. We’re actually really, really nice people, and we’re more than happy to show you around. Also, you’re already kinda drunk and there’s like five people in line behind you.
What’s the point?
Cultural theorist Ray Oldenberg coined the phrase “The Third Place” (later appropriated by the Sony corporation), referring to the places where humans gather between work and home. “Leisure”, in so far as it has been supplanted by post-capitalist “entertainment”, is almost always reliant upon ostensible cues (visual art, live music, cinema, theatre) for its legitimacy. Format – by its provision of independent media, live music and experimental art – is in effect reviving the lost practice of tribal leisure. Also, we need to sell drinks to pay the rent.
Collective. Here’s what’s going on this summer.
THE END OF EXILE
First thing’s first, Format Collective is getting closer to a new venue (probably). Just waiting for the owning classes to get back from Majorca or wherever so we can get down to brass tax. Can’t talk about the specifics - all we can say is that we’ve narrowed the search down to two or three properties, all of which are better than the false starts we had to deal with last year.
Thanks again for not lynching us. We want to get this right so we can build something serious enough to last, big enough for Thee Oh Sees, weird enough to be worthwhile.
Needless to say the Opening Night Gala will be SOME party. Mid-priced champagne and summer dresses and semi-ironic suits and firm handshakes all round. Then we’ll proceed to destroy the place with another impeccably curated festival nightmare. Codename: OPERATION OVERLORD. Iacta alea est! Retake the city! Choke her streets with blood and asbestos and sticky pink soda!
A couple months ago Saint Jerome himself asked Format to curate an all-day event as part of Laneway Festival in sunny, post-industrial Port Adelaide. We said, “How much will you pay us?” They said, “Money.” We said “Okay then.” Cue some stellar local artists, some sort of wholesome family barbecue situation, handball, badminton and half a dozen of the best local and ex-pat bands we can muster.
We’re calling it PORT LAND in vague reference to both the nautical venue (the historic Waterside Worker’s Hall, home of Vitalstatistix Theatre Company) and the the stubborn mutant hipster strain running through Format's DNA. Stay tuned to the facebook page for details. PS The Port isn’t as far as you think guys. Investigate the train, or tune up the old treadley and make a day of it.
SOME OTHER THINGS
We’re keeping things simple in the lead up to The Return From Exile but there’s still a couple things simmering. Following up his work with locals Swimming and Wild Oats, Chief Sound Engineer Pat is working on a few recording projects for Wireheads and, later in the year, a new Old Mate record. That long-awaited live compilation is nearly packed and ready for Bandcamp too.
We’re also hosting an exhibition for Grid Festival - a new, city-wide visual art festival celebrating some of the best artist-run stuff in town. Grid Projects is made up of some formidable art-school nerds - you would be wise to pay attention to them.
Creative Director Alex is still tweaking the business side of Format Records, but right now his major focus is securing a ready supply of Club Mate from our suppliers in Germany. Club Mate guys. When was the last time you nailed a Club Mate and danced to Destiny’s Child til 3am?
Patience, Collective. Patience.PS You would be wise to come to the Hotel Metropolitan on Grote Street this Sunday January 12 from 4pm. There'll be free drinks and chips and gravy and we'll figure out which vital role you'll be playing in OPERATION OVERLORD, or any other major Format ops for that matter. Plumbers, carpenters, accountants and people with vans are especially welcome...
Hello internet, time for another edition of...
E X I L E
ITEM ONEOverall, being jackhammered out of your home is a pretty rubbish experience. Nevertheless, the upshot has been a string of landmark events, including some pretty huge live shows, some great visual art and more than a little bit of discussion about the history and future of Adelaide subculture. Thanks to all the venues who've helped us out so far - Tooth & Nail, Nexus Cabaret, Renewal SA and the Metro Hotel especially.
And a huge thank you to the artists and musicians who've chosen to walk the scorched earth with us - Timothy Tuppence, Derek Sergent, Swimming, Old Mate, Bruff Superior and Summer Flake to name a pretty random selection. Bubblegum punks King Tuff came all the way from California to play for us, along with the likes of Lobbiaz from France and Per Purpose from Brisbane. Brisbane even! Thanks a bunch guys. Hopefully next time you're here we've got a nice place for you to play in.
Format's Festival of Unpopular Culture returns in October, co-presented by the nice folks from the Adelaide Festival of Ideas. Full program details soon-ish. Meantime what we can tell you is that New York psychedelic performance artists Prince Rama are confirmed for the Closing Night Party at Nexus Cabaret, supported by Melbourne's Terrible Truths, Making from Sydney and local pop minimalists Swimming. Prince Rama are pretty pretty pretty fancy - after the Festival of Unpopular Culture they're playing the Melbourne Festival. Have you played the Melbourne Festival? That's what we thought. See about some cheap early-bird tickets HERE.
ITEM THREEOn the real estate front, we've narrowed the hunt down to two potential properties in the city. Live music is a tricky thing to set up on a regular basis, not least because you need a crazy set of planning approvals. FUN FACT: practically any new venue in the Adelaide CBD needs to commission an "acoustic report", which is usually upwards of three and a half grand. Three and a half grand amounts to a lot of cardboard and blu-tak for folks like us.
Then there's legal fees, development approvals, insurance - all before you even make that first phone call to your cousin's friend's fiancé who one time watched a youtube clip about installing a regulation 90cm-wide aluminium tray urinal.
In light of all this, we've been running a crowd funding campaign aimed at paying for the fit-out of our new home. We're about half way there, but there's still a long way to go. You might never have set foot in Format, you might never have bought a zine or seen an exhibition or danced at a show, but if you think that Adelaide deserves a safe, permanent space for weird, fun, independent, artist-run subculture, then click the following garishly-coloured link.
A dollar or two shouldn't make a huge difference to one person, but if a few hundred of us put in just a couple bucks each, then Format will have the opportunity to help all kinds of strange flowers bloom in and around what might otherwise be another abandoned place.
You can donate as little as one dollar, but every donation over ten dollars gets a reward. Choose from a compilation of rare live music, handpicked packages of zines, collectible stone relics from the original Format Basement - even a three-month term as Night Mayor of Adelaide (complete with inauguration ceremony presided over by the actual Mayor of Adelaide).
If you can, please share this post as much as possible. The faster we reach that funding target, the sooner we can get on with the task of supporting all the weird subcultural stuff that means the difference between a proper city and a shopping mall.
And now here's our pals from Eightlimb Films with the weather.
And so it was that Format Always Wins came to pass. The people saw it, and it was good.
Over two days, kind of around the time Christ died, and definitely around the time he was all like LOL JK, we threw a massive party to say farewell to Peel Street. Those of you who remember it will remember it fondly. Those of you who don't will forever be troubled by the uncertainty of how your lungs came to be permanently scarred.
We tried to create this street feature thing, which involved throwing rolls of VHS tape at each other from balcony to balcony over Peel Street. This was firstly thwarted by the aging Don of the painters guild, who between knee squeaks, wailed some barely intelligible demands to remove ourselves from the eave above our shop, before handing us a newspaper full of fish.
Then the heavens opened. We looked down upon the milk crate Format stage, upon the cable runs and the thousands of dollars of speakers and microphones, and upon Pat as he scrambled garbage bags over all of it.
"We shall go buy a gazebo", I heard someone say. (Side Note: Do you know that Bunnings sells a 6x3 metre gazebo thing, minus the required poles to erect it? They do not sell the poles separately.)
It was later decided that, to avoid electrocution, we would move the stage inside. This decision was met with many a chin-in-hand concurrence. So about an hour and a half later Mountain Blood roared the First and Last Format Always Wins victory party into existence.
So Saturday went something like:
Fierce drums and crunchy guitar rock. There is often a conversation between two of the Format directors about the drumming styles of Michael Heath and James Mannix. Both drum in some of Adelaide's best bands. Both have distinct relationships with the drum. Mannix is one with the drum, the drum is his friend and he moves with the drum. Heath hates the drum. He moves against the drum, and wants to kill the drum.
Adelaide's best looking band.
Viola and punk, at last. One of the latter additions to the bill. We hadn't heard them play before, instead going off the reputation of the band members and a few kind words. The answer is yes. Go see them play with King Tuff.
Big Mondo Blood Dick Phase
The best thing that has ever happened.
"Walter guilt tripped me afterward while I was cradling my sore knee in tears" music.
Once upon a time we held a festival that we called "Format Festival 2013". At this festival there were exhibitions where people "exhibited". One such exhibit was SQUISHBOT, which as the name suggests was a mechanical device that squished stuff. This was the brain child of one Timothy Tuppence. You might remember him from such exhibitions as Street Dreams and Hard Treasure. So we walked around with Tuppence and talked about lasers, then we got some VHS tape, some alfoil and shone lasers at it. END OF STORY. Good Job Tim.
Steering by Stars
Too handsome a band to bring your girlfriend along to.
Big Richard Insect
Where tequila begins and ends.
Your new favourite indie slacker dreamboat band. West End draught and feelings.
Party like it's 2010 and nobody moved to Melbourne. A*MAZING. Remember that show? Terrible Truths found all the keys.
Brad Cameron and Joe Blackwell relive the future.
Then it came time to reignite the glory that is Mass Karaoke. With Choral Grief leading the way in their adorable coloured ponchos, two megaphones, and some very real feelings. We again conquered Eternal Flame, which was made all the more cinematic by the fact we could all hide our tears in the rain.
and then Ablaster and Parsons made dancing happen. Chloe Langford cocktail fuelled dancing until four in the morning, upon which time we promptly kicked everyone into the street.
We went to sleep on Sunday and woke up again Sunday. Simon Gray had planned the two days out for himself impeccably. The first day he would remain completely sober, serving drinks, staffing the merch desk etc. The second day he would not be seen helping in any way, as he would be Slurms McKenzie in one of Stan's robes. This was his plan, and he executed it out to a T.
So as Christ rose from a dusty sand hole outside Jerusalem or something, Format peered into the void of uncertainty, the uncertainty of how we were supposed to get the UV paint off the walls when we left.
"Don't worry about it, it's face paint", said managing director Stan Mahoney. It turned out not to be face paint, and we didn't clean it. Some of it was face paint, and there were pots of fluorescent face paint littering the bathroom. Also, I quit. -Stan
Sunday went a little like this:
First we spelled her name wrong on the poster, then the power went out. Still, that moment when nothing was amplified and all you could hear was Naomi softly oooing, you could only think to yourself how much better that was than jackhammers.
Ever seen two quiet guys look at each other awkwardly over a laptop while playing guitars and thinking to yourself "how fucking good is this". Yeah.
So we painted the bathrooms and gave Alice Dolling free reign. The idea was to make them slightly less horrifying, or at least provide a distraction from said horror. The result was a junkie's nightmare, UV PAINT AND UV LIGHTS AND LOUD LOUD LOUD. Good Job Alice.
Someone said Husker Du and Cherry Coke.
Their album launch sold out, which is an awkward thing as only a fifth of the crowd would actually have seen the band. Despite their tiny stature, they can drink tequila for Australia. Bless.
Among my fondest memories of Format are the evenings spent writing at the zine desk while bands rehearse downstairs. Swimming, Wild Oats, Gold Bloom, Choral Grief and Sparkspitter. Sparkspitter would rehearse from six, until well after I locked up. They won rehearsal wars.
So this sculptor Andre Lawrence came to us with the idea of a destruction exhibition to symbolise the current state of Peel St and Format's tribulations over the last eight months. A little bit of projection, a little bit of noise, concrete and steel pieces and even bricks from the destruction site that has plagued Format's last eight months. But the coup de gras was a Monopoly game set up in the middle of the gallery, complete with a set of Peel St deed details. Genius.
Home for the Def and the Lay Down Sallys Nigel Koop dressed as Jesus hanging off a beam, dislodging a potentially fatal quantity of chalky fire retardant material, falling, meeting his arse with the mixing desk. His picking up the suspicious substance and declaring it to be asbestos to a crowd of forty-odd bright young hipsters, with so much life still ahead of them, now covered in fire retardant dust. The dismemberment of the Format baby. The dispersal of chunks of the ceiling in the manner of Holy Communion. This is my body. The holding aloft of Dr Ianto Ware as he desperately tries and fails to play the 'Smells Like Teen Spirit' riff he had only learned hours earlier. Or the rare and disturbing sight of Stan Mahoney smiling. I don't know which memory will haunt me the most.
HOME FOR THE DEF - SMELLS LIKE TEEN SPIRIT (LIVE) from SIA DUFF on Vimeo.
"EVERYONE GET OUT ONTO THE STREET"
One of the many responsibilities of a Format director is, in the event that asbestos is dispersed into a confined room by a crazed man dressed as Jesus on an Easter Sunday, to sweep the aforementioned asbestos with one hand, a sparkling in the other.
Radz in a hood.
So we moved the stage to the the centre of the room. Then we were entertained by pretty men in short shorts. When that happens you dance. My sweat is on many people.
It was then time to make a bond with the dirty cement that we have all danced on, sweat upon, and some of us slept on. It was time for the Kool Aid. So as Nigel Koop read the transcript of the original Jim Jones death sermon, and Simon Gray dispensed the mystical red liquid into our glasses, we raised our arms and prepared to make our union with destiny.
Then DJ Sex Pest returned one last time, and we knew it was the end.
Photo credits: Sia Duff, Harriet Fraser Barbour, Sarah Eastick and Courtney Guy.