The Winter Solstice has been an astrological phenomenon interpreted by civilisations in many different ways throughout time. In Norse mythology the time in which it occurred was celebrated of which saw the inception of our modern ideas of Christmas. While other cultures throughout time feared the Winter Solstice as starvation was a common occurrence during this time period. Animals would be slaughtered so they had not to be fed, food was cherished and no matter which society you draw from alcohol production and consumption was at its peak during this dark unpredictable time period.

In its third year - the brainchild of David Walsh and the team behind Mona museum Dark Mofo returns. This Winter version of the long running Summer babe MONA FOMA takes over Hobart for ten days of what can only be described as absurdity. This festival embodies the hedonistic gluttonous ways of everything dear; from food to music, from art to film to what-in-the-fuck… This festival is a playground, this festival is a secret, this festival is unique, this festival is nothing like what you could possibly expect or in some cases, handle.

This is one perspective of this event. All that was discovered in this adventure is accounted for. It cannot entirely describe everything that occurred.

After sleeping through an alarm and missing a stupidly early flight to the most southern land of this great southern land, I arrive on Sunday 14/06. The festival had begun two days before, launching with a slew of events including the premiere of the much hyped Blacklist, which, despite having been in the town for only a few hours had left its impression upon those in attendance for the two days prior. The drawcard for this Sunday evening takes place at the beautiful Odeon Theatre in the centre of town and is a laid back affair headed up by song god Gareth Liddiard.

The slight annoyances from last year’s event still remain and arriving late due to early start times, Laura Jean is wrapping up her set. Initially, she seemed like an odd choice for this bill, but though only witnessing a bit she is a nice kick-off to the evening and it is good to hear the production values of last year’s event remain. Following on, the back of the stage is lined with candles, then a stool with a single glass and a relatively full bottle of Makers Mark is placed on said stool. At first, I instantly thought I'm not going to like this. How pretentious can you be to bring out a full bottle of booze and display it directly next to you label facing crowd, you aren't going to drink all of that! Is this an ad for Makers Mark??? Though as the set progresses and the bottle diminishes with each passing song my tune changes and King Dude wins over the audience, including myself. Relatively unfamiliar with this American artist, he brings in influences of the south to his crooning and his song writing resembles a more accessible Sun Kil Moon flavour. His banter is great and the dude can put it away and still perform proficiently to the very end; giving away the remainder of the 'mark to an audience member.

Strange Tourist has been on the shelves for some time now and it has gone down as a truly and undeniably great artefact of Australian music. Occasionally rearing his head to perform solo away from The Drones Gareth Liddiard never fails to disappoint in this medium, until tonight. Something is off, Liddiard looks effected by something, what literally becomes the guessing game of the night. The songs he chooses are relatively safe, drawing equally from Drones and solo material and yes, musically they are okay, but great? No. It feels as if playing these songs for such a lengthy period Liddiard could play them in his sleep or lack thereof. The more intricate pieces of the Strange Tourist catalogue are the dead giveaway as Liddiard misses - almost mimes some of the fingerpicking to songs and he fails to reach heights easily achieved vocally. His witty banter is often a drawcard to his performances and tonight some of it borders on rambling though comments made about the Hobart Airport police dog are well made. He closes with a request (which I thought would be Ice Ice Baby though others thought Golden Brown {wink wink!}) Sixteen Straws and doesn't re-emerge, leaving a void following the performance. This performance didn't lack the usual intimacy and awe from a Liddiard solo show because of the size of the venue; it lacked quality and care from the performer.

Following the weirdness, those still awake made their way over to The Grand Poobah and danced up a storm to some beats courtesy of this guy to the early hours of the morning to sexy results. The following few days of the festival saw me venture away from town to get a horse drawn carriage ride, courtesy of Heritage Carriages (mention this article to get a $10 discount!) up Mt Wellington to see snow for the first time (that was denied to me throughout my childhood partially from my QLD surroundings and partially because of my lazy parents), and out to the Twin Peaks/Stephen King wet dream Huonville to dine on the surprisingly good local cuisine and to dream about making record covers with photos of the fog covered, mountain lined lake.

Wednesday sees the festival back into full swing with the streets beginning to fill with curiosities. The day sees an essential visit to MONA, the festival’s hall of inspiration. The building itself architecturally feels as if Hank Scorpio owned it but its innards are unlike any museum kicking. Down one hall sees porcelain sculptures of vaginas (151 to be specific) while other rooms are graced with video installations, Egyptian art pieces among many others. MONA's newest exhibition for the festival is Marina Abramovic's Private Archaeology, a collection of her works over the years combined with some new pieces and the results are hit and miss. While some pieces are truly interesting, for example the monk video installation, others come across as (for lack of a better phrase) try hard art-wank e.g. the screaming installation. A personal highlight from MONA comes in the form of a Hiroshima installation (Hiroshima in Tasmania - The Archive of the Furutre (2011-) By Masao Okabe and Chihiro Minato) where participants are invited to make a rubbing of stones taken from a train station post WWII; of which, all results are catalogued and kept by the artist. The night sees the Brisbane Hotel opening its doors again for its festival length festival in itself, No Grimoire Fo with tonight’s edition being labelled Prism, with a collection of great locals leading the charge. Wasted Idol are a confronting group feeling as if it is structured noise while Hellskum draw from the heavier end of the spectrum and are notably tight and persistent in their delivery. The night is closed by some of Hobart's finest rapscallions Treehouse. The set is as loose as it is fun and by the end with guitar strings in as many pieces as brain cells it gradually fades away into good times had by all.

Now it is business time, the first night of the beginning of the end. Where do we go from here? It’s anyone’s guess.

The festival program says, "Thou shalt whip thy hair back and forth" - Satan/Willow Smith and heading up the Odeon tonight is a night of heavy sludge and endless doom courtesy of some of the biggest names in heavy kicking at the moment. Starting off the night is something slightly different considering they are sans guitar. Berlin duo Oake bring a brutal set of electronic noise and minimalist beats that pushes the Odeon PA. The sound is haunting and bears slight comparison to certain works of Prurient and in combination with the lighting and production it is all enticing. U.S. sludge purveyors The Body follow and the two-piece are loud, with guitarist Chip King incorporating extensive use of pedals and tone, courtesy to the towering amp stacks at the back of the stage to make an inescapable wall of sound that can only be described as pummelling. The night’s headliners Pallbearer follow and following on from the experimentalism and darkness supplied earlier in the evening feel almost like a pop group. The set has its moments mainly supplied by the production, but ultimately comes up a little dry.

Blacklist - oh Blacklist… With no faux mo to be seen this year all eyes are on the mysterious entity happening at Budgie Smugglers (though it’s really City Hall) and with rumours surrounding the events kick off over the previous weekend it is hard not to be intrigued what goes down. But wait, how could it be best experienced? How to gain the right prospective? This story begins at a house for a rehearsal and costume change…

The venue is packed upon entry, a main stage is present with a roof size sculpture/platform opposing it in the other end of the room. I’m led down some halls by the others in my party, we get lost. We then run into staff that show us the way past security into the backstage area where we belong. Backstage my thirty odd compatriots are already present, enjoying wine with pixie dancers and dwarves from another act I have yet to witness. The floors are already coated in our costumes, and we drink as we wait for our cue. Then the time comes, in the tall group we are led by staff to stage right. A man backstage with a tech admires our costumes and longs to be a part of the performance… Though out of costume supplies, we welcome him in open arms. The band make their way onstage for their first song while we wait, drinking and peering from behind the curtain. Then we emerge, file into the back of the room onto the platforms (which I fall off due to having a conversation) and then we sing the words of our elders "Bathe me in the blood of the lord…" or choir leader is wearing arseless chaps and a paper mache head while our band leaders are screaming around the stage gradually tearing off their clothes. The audience are in awe, yes we are golden yes we are. Our first song ends and then Lil John's "Turn Down For What" is our signal for chaos. Golden balloons fall from the ceiling onto the audience and some of my fellow choir members attempt to crowd surf while I lower my arse as close to the ground as it could get. As the song draws to a close, I walk to the front of the stage and as naked as the day I was born and painted gold, I raise my hands in honour of our leaders to applause The Harrison Forward. You owned Blacklist and are now officially kings among men.

Part Two coming soon featuring Yammantaka Eye, The Winter Feast, The Irrepressibles No Grimoire Fo pt2, Dark Park, The Winter Solstice Swim and Blacklist #4 and 5.