Fans enjoying Tame Impala's colourful set at the Princes Street stage. Photo/Nick Reed
After much speculation of its 2017 location, the now-staple St Jerome's Laneway Festival made its debut at what is hopefully its long-term home - the glorious Albert Park precinct.
Once again featuring a strong mix of 30 local and international up-and-comers and established acts, this year's Laneway felt a long way from the previous Silo Park incarnation.
There were of course similarities.
It was just as hot, but this one came with ample shade.
It was just as busy, but this one had with wide open, green spaces.
But this one was not just as good, it was far better.
Despite the grander logistical challenges that came with a venue almost twice as big, requiring hundreds of metres of perimeter security, the festival felt flawlessly run.
There were minor hiccups, as is always expected. But on the whole, it felt like a world-class event.
The organisers absolutely aced the stage locations in the new venue.
Two stages - the Fountain and Rotunda - were on gently sloping, wide open grassy fields, providing tiered viewing and ample space to sit, lie and relax in the shade.
The other two, the main stage and the smaller Thunderdome stage, were located on stunning, tree-lined streets - Princes and Alfred - throwing back to the festival's laneway origins.
The reviewer spent the morning feeling unwell, but the afternoon opened with the bluesy, American folk-y rock and roll of Whitney, and the apex of the decade-long revival of DIY confused rock in critically acclaimed Car Seat Headrest.
This humble reviewer didn't get to see them, but reports came in that the (and horrifically named) King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard were the highlight of many people's days.
The Australian seven-piece fuse surf, garage and psych rock to produce a rollicking, romping show, or so I was told.
British R&B "wonky funk" artist Nao also garnered "act-of-the-day" noms from friends.
Chicago hip-hop artist Mick Jenkins was bouncy and brash, both pensive and revelling in hedonism, and went some way to making up for the loss of Atlanta rapper Young Thug late in the piece. His show felt like the first big party of the day, drawing a raucous crowd and delivering a stunner as the sun set on the daytime acts.
As night fell, a second wind came over the crowd. Buzzing, aimless, semi-hazy friend clumps were lingering for one last act - headliners Tame Impala.
After a dire, confusing year in the outside world, Tame Impala reached into outer space and wrapped everyone into a warm blanket. Kevin Parker is supernaturally talented, an intricate composer of mind-bending, woozy, heart-thumping psych-rock. And they certainly know how to arrest a crowd.
The audience was played like a puppet, rising and falling and swirling to one of the world's great live acts.
Each new track was greeted with roars of approval.
The background visuals and lighting were one with the music, rainbow confetti cannoned out to hoots of appreciation. For an hour or so the outside world melted away.
In spite of Parker's often-bitter lyrics - which everyone seemed happy to cheerily sing along with - Tame Impala was a temporary ray of hope when much of what is going around seems hopeless.
For a largely young crowd facing uncertainty in almost every aspect of their future, Laneway was an enclave of positivity, understanding and just bloody good fun.
It gave everyone pause for thought: huh, there is some hope after all.