Late night socials during the Quiksilver Pro, Gold Coast

Your Stab correspondent has just returned from the Gold Coast of Australia, where the Quiksilver Pro, with pauses, took the the entirety of it’s waiting period to complete. Due to the size of Australia’s largest surf contest, late February every year sees the Coolangatta area injected with energy. Flags bearing the contest’s logo hang from telegraph poles, large billboards inform that the Quiksilver Pro is the “Best” of everything and every decent eatery in the area hosts who’s-who lunch and dinner meets daily. The waves were, for a week straight, miniature. While swell on the points was non-existent during the lay-days, Duranbah, though barely pushing two foot on set waves, was overrun with male and female pros, as well as juniors, team managers, and free-surfers. And photogs. And filmers. It seemed as though the whole surf industry was in Coolangatta – even sponsored surfers who weren’t in the contest were at every party and premiere, every night. At night-time during the Quiksilver Pro, the general consensus is to meet at Komune Beach Apartments (as nearly every night an event or party is held there), before moving on to something else. Here’s the brief rundown of a coupla events that Stab attended:

– Josh Kerr’s premiere for his new biopic, Kerrazy Kronicles, held at Pointbreak bar and restaurant, Burleigh Heads. The windows of the venue were mostly closed to fend off the powering wind, which turned the room into a heat-box. Dean Morrison wiped sweat from his brow, put his hand back on the crutches that support his injured leg, and used his other hand to lift a vodka, lime and soda to his mouth. A sickly-looking Mickey Avalon, dressed in patterned boardshots and a very badly-matched button-down shirt, drank wine and flicked greasy curls out of his face. Jordy Smith, taller than everyone else in the room, replied “Just water, bru”, when his bud ‘Laces’ asked him what he wanted to drink. The film was typical Josh Kerr – modest, fun, with huge airs and incredible waves. Some of the waves were the more jealousy-inspiring seen in recent surf film vintage. The salt and pepper squid with Ponzu sauce was a hit. The room was made up of an 80/20 male/female ratio and many of the males mentioned the fact. Adam Bennetts used an Akai MPC sample pad and Ableton midi-controller to mix music. Kerr’s infallible smile all evening gave no indicator of the furious manner in which he’d stomp through the media area of the contest a week later, having lost to Ace Buchan, and understandably mutter when asked for comment: “Nah, I’m pretty much fucking over it right now, ay.”

– The Innersection premiere, held at Komune Beach Club at Greenmount. A runway stage sat across the water of the hotel’s pool, and film conceptualists Taylor Steele and Nathan Myers stood on it with a microphone. Matt Meola and Craig Anderson were both asked onstage to stand in-between Taylor and Nathan, while the co-creators discussed the difficulty in choosing which of the two parts had earned the $100k prize-purse. Matt and Craig were visibly nervous, though as we’ve already said, Matt’s presence was almost enough to confirm who the winner’d be before it was announced – kid didn’t fly over from Maui for nothing. The tension in the moments leading up to the announcement was palpable. It was then, while his “Hero” section played in the background, that Matt Meola was awarded a $100k cheque to an eruption of applause. People with blue wristbands drank free Corona, everyone spoke about how Craig Anderson nearly won and whether they should, following the premiere, go to Dion Agius’ premiere at Neverland or go to the Roxy party. Stab chose to go to Dion Agius’ premiere. Surprised? Didn’t think so.

– The premiere for Dion Agius’ film, Thanks For The Dinner And The Sex, a low-budget, self-directed and self-edited piece by Dion, held at Neverland nightclub. The upstairs area of the club was packed with people. It was dark, sweaty, naughty and fun. Jordy Smith, again, didn’t drink. This is worth noting, due to Jords’ usual party-boi rep. Has the kid grown into a mature man, ready to sacrifice a few good times for a shot at the title? Time will tell. Kelly Slater and girlfriend Kalani turned up late, sat in a corner for a while, and inflicted the most intense presence imaginable on the entire room. Kelly sat with his back to the wall, staring with piercing blue eyes through the club, while every other person in the room did a bad job of pretending not to look at him. The movie: Indie gold (home-movie vibe), unselfish (first section – no Dion), surprising (for the haters – a full section of Dion “fly-boy” Agius doing only turns – and good ones), and aurally-pleasing (killer soundtrack, as per the man’s taste.)

– Oh, then there was the party at Komune that we ourselves threw with our pals at Nike 6.0, titled A Warm-Hearted Hustle. A 10 metre-high image of Julian Wilson grabbing method and throwing a peace sign greeted attendees, and Laura Enever signature cocktails were served. In the corner sat a messy bed, acting as a kinky photo-booth where people ‘posed’. As is the tendency at these things, the extensive bar tab had been demolished an hour before the party was due to finish. For photos of the night, jump over here.

– The Quiksilver Pro, New York launch party, held at Neverland Nightclub. The premise of this event was, if nothing else, confusing. The NY event ain’t till September but Quik threw a launch-party in March. Hey, any excuse, right? On the way there I was told that a black wristband was required for upstairs entry, so I called Quik-rider Craig Anderson  to ask if he had any spares. As he was leaving early, he had the driver of the car he was in pull-over to meet me and give me his torn-apart plastic bracelet. Admittedly I spent most of the night downstairs watching Dion Agius DJ – he was asked to play some music by the club owner, and obliged with the Rolling Stones, the Beatles and a bunch of other stuff that had the crowd more excited than the ‘club music’ played by the following DJ. It’s interesting how strangely the crowd patterns in Neverland move. One minute, it’s shoulder-to-shoulder and ordering a drink becomes a rib-crushing, voice-cracking exercise. The next moment, there’s no more than 20 people in the downstairs bar, as everyone’s decided to relocate upstairs. The migration cycle re-occurs every 15 minutes. Such is pack mentality.