Give Me More Coachella
Alas, four shades darker and a much-deserved body cleanse thereafter (aka shower), I can readily compile my thoughts on what has been set as the best weekend of my life. The world renowned arts and music festival has yet to disappoint in its 15 years of glory on Coachella Valley (just ask the internet). But seriously, who wouldn’t want to bask in an ambiance where actions, good or bad, are unquestioned and supported with two colloquial words in which you shrug your shoulders and proclaim in nonchalance:
IT’S COACHELLA
Other than the fact that my phone attempted multiple suicides as soon as I took it off ‘Airplane mode’ or realizing that I am a (mostly) hairless mammal that isn’t quite adapted to the desert climate without sufficient layers, the festival grounds have blessed me with a truly impeccable experience. I can’t think of anywhere else in the world where you are warmly befriended to share your overwhelming ‘Day One’ from the confines of the charging station!
It was too much. Not in any way condescending; the weekend was merely too congested with a plethora of things in store that any practical human being would collapse to their knees begging for a way to travel back in time to relive the moments they would surely miss. From the 24/7 party at the camping grounds to the stunning paragon of art scattered across the venue, you’d be wasting precious time blinking.
Everything was in constant motion the moment you step into the venue. You were either in a synchronous jump with the crowd or making your way to the next stage. With the untimely conflict of set times, you were forced to pick favorites among your favorites which made it inevitable that some artists weren’t meant to be seen (in my case: Chromeo, Bastille, MGMT, Empire of the Sun, Martin Garrix, etc.).
I definitely missed out on the little idiosyncratic essentials. I wasn’t able to ‘dance my face off’ at the Silent Dance Party or soothe my pores in the replenishing mists and beats of the Do Lab. Nor was I able to stuff my belly with the bountiful food vendors. The sacrifice, however, was well compensated by the unprecedented performances from the Coachella stage to the eye-dropping light shows of the Sahara structure.
Some notable performances included getting “vun fucking deeper” with the notorious Dillon Francis, grooving out with Mark Foster, getting blown away by Grouplove’s Christian Zucconi and Hannah Cooper boundless energy, and reveling in the profound ‘drumstep’ of The Glitch Mob who embedded a stellar performance with their trademark visuals. Kid Cudi dominated the main stage bringing back hits from Man on the Moon that put the crowd in a trance. And I’m sure you’ve heard of Pharrell Williams and Nas rolling out cameo appearances of favorable artists such as Jay-Z, Snoop Dogg, Gwen Stefani, and Puff Daddy. All in all, there were no disappointing sets and what was more gratifying was being stranded in a crowd of familiar musical taste.
Coachella treated me graciously well and upon my return, only one thing can be concluded after a monumental weekend in Indio:
Reality sucks.
It was indubitably the perfect escape where despite the chronic heat and dust storms, you were bound to have the time of your life. I surely did, and for what it’s worth I know what to expect for next year… Or do I? Until next time, Coachella.
