As the rain bucketed down early Saturday morning, things were not boding well for the outdoor Freeform Festival, Melbourne’s fledgeling techno day festival. Electronic music-heads are a perseverant sort, but it appeared that even they would struggle against the elements at the Sidney Myer Music Bowl. As the skies parted, however, what remained wasn’t climate based-unpleasantries, but a day of music that wasn’t slowing down for anything. 

Now in its second year, Freeform Festival is an annual event that seeks to provide attendees with a day-long version of the weekender festivals that are so popular among Melbourne’s 18-20something demographic. Freeform feels like a more mature and elevated version of BTV or A3, condensing what makes those festivals so noteworthy into one ten-hour extravaganza. Situated in the warm embrace of the Sidney Myer Music Bowl, the day stretched across four stages, each of which offering a distinct and individual lineup of industry-leading DJs.

While the faraway rumblings of the other stages promised daring sets and unfamiliar experiments in genre, my party elected to stick to the main stage, which featured back-to-back sets from the most prominent names on Freeform’s lineup. Having spent the early afternoon with our various employers, we arrived just in time to witness Melbourne’s own Bella Claxton take the stage, having just returned from a long escapade in Europe. Claxton was certainly the most individual set we heard that night, her offerings were undeniably sonically distinct from those that followed, prioritising consistent beats rather than haphazard ebbs and flows. We were able to enjoy Claxton’s set from the very front barricade, as it appeared that crowds were still trickling in from their existing Saturday responsibilities.

The Bowl stage was divided into two sections—the lawn and the seats/front pit. It seemed that VIP ticketholders had unrestricted entry into the front part of the stage, whereas regular GA customers lined up for the chance to enter the undercover bowl. My friends and I quickly discovered that while there was an undeniable energy thriving in the front pit, it was also filled with individuals who clearly did this sort of thing for a living—not a space for the faint of heart. Following Claxton’s set, we quickly escaped the ever-growing crowd of lollipop-sucking amateur DJs, and rejoined the rest of the crowd on the main lawn.

Re-entering the lawn from the pit was one of the most memorable parts of the day, and characterised what seemed to be the intention of Freeform—the unadulterated ability of festivalgoers to seamlessly transition settings and means of enjoyment. While not sold out, the festival welcomed the perfect number of guests, allowing attendees to either bunch up amongst each other or occupy a larger bit of space towards the back of the lawn. The experience was customisable, and encouraged interaction with its acts in whatever way you saw fit, rather than pigeonholing festivalgoers into a single avenue of enjoyment. It was notably easy to hit the bar or dash to the bathroom without permanently losing your group in the crowd, which enabled attendees to lose themselves in Freeform’s world and become one with its offerings.

Following Claxton came what was perhaps the lawn’s most highly-anticipated set, Melbourne-based SWIM taking centre stage at the bowl and lighting up the crowd. By this point, most ticketholders had finished their pres and were quickly turning a grassy hill into a muddy landslide. Pockets of the lawn towards the front of the space were eerily empty, as attendees made futile efforts to avoid the larger puddles of sludge. For those of us lucky enough to have already become one with the earth, these empty pockets were an invitation, and we rejoiced in our own personal farm-esque dance floor. These conditions further enhanced the sense of detachedness created by the festival, because although there were CBD skyscrapers well within our view, it seemed like we were in an entirely different world from the one that existed just beyond the bowl.

SWIM’s set was immediately followed by the similarly named Barry Can’t Swim, making it an epic double header for enjoyers of aquatic-themed house music. Most well-known in my circles as the interstitial set sandwiched between Beabadoobee and Charli XCX at 2025 Laneway—which was also plagued by the elements—it was clear that this act had a significant and well-deserved following of his own. Following my realisation that Barry Can’t Swim was “just one guy?!”, his remix of Basement Jaxx’s cult classic Where’s Your Head At, invigorated the crowd and amplified the already persistent unpleasant squelching noises that accompanied most of our movements. 

The mainstage closed out with Interplanetary Criminal, who made the 90 minutes between 9:30 and 11PM feel like the most valuable of our lives. Freeform is subject to strict noise restrictions as a consequence of its venue and its partnership with Melbourne Arts Centre, meaning that the night closed off in a fashion that some might consider premature. While anyone in that crowd could’ve kicked on after 11—and many did—there’s something to be said about the experience being as condensed as it was. Whether or the festival team might look into different venues that might enable a later curfew, there was something incredibly special about Sidney Myer, and the team has done so much with its space that it feels like to abandon it in favour of a later finish would be a mighty shame.

Freeform Festival isn’t going anywhere anytime soon. It’s been embraced by the electronic music community with undeniable fervour, and is set to only keep growing. The festival’s individuality comes as a consequence of its intimacy, and prospective attendees should hope that its partnership with Sidney Myer Music Bowl becomes a mainstay of the Melbourne music calendar. If they preserve what makes it great, this team could keep Freeform running longer than any of might be expecting. And let’s hope they do.

Photography by Ashley Oetomo.