Coachella – a Land of Sweaty Delight

Three-hundred bones is a heap of money to myself and my counterpart. It’s enough cash to have planted a few seeds of doubt in my pre-Coachella brain about whether or not the famed festival would reeeeeally be worth the scrilla.

May I say, now all the wiser, what a ri-facken-diculous notion that was.

The Coachella Valley Music and Arts Festival celebrated its 11th consecutive year this past weekend, drawing over 75,000 attendees from pretty much everywhere imaginable. For me, it’s always had a kind of mysterious aura – a perception only exacerbated by our pathetic attempt to get in last year. If you read the post we published re: Coachella 2010, you may remember how we walked up and down the avenues surrounding the polo fields without seeing anything our veteran friends had raved about; a dull rumble of bass was all we could make out.

But this year, ooohhh this year. We saw it all. I’ll never forget the feeling that swept over me the moment we stepped on the soft green grass that first day at the polo fields. Music wedged itself into my ears from every possible angle. Masses of people milled about, going from stage to tent to food stand to hydration station. The heat was beyond intense and seemed only to increase – EXTREME sensory overload had commenced, and it would continue for three straight days!

Jumping right into the action, we learned a few things real fast.

• Article one – there is no such thing as personal space. You may think you’ve got a nice little spot carved out for yourself while you’re waiting for the next band to come on, but that nice little spot will soon be filled by another body, whether they can actually fit there or not. More than likely, that body will be shirtless and sweaty.
• Article two – replenish your water supply whenever possible. The “hydration stations” that allow you to refill water bottles are few, I think there were only 3, so if you happen to be cruising by one take the time to jostle through the line and top off your Nalgene. (Yes, you can bring those in, as long as they’re empty to begin with.)
• Article three – the crowd was by far the largest on Sunday, which meant that the security check-in was way more thorough. They stripped us of our granola bars and pistachios, something that didn’t happen on either of the previous two days, but luckily we were still able to make it in with some strategically concealed goodies.
• Article four – you will be real, real, real sore at the end of each day. Some of my festmates chose to bite the fashion bullet and sport running shoes – a choice I’m pretty sure they appreciated, as you’re literally standing up 80% of the day.
• Article five – you are in Neverland, a delightful and carefree world where the entire population has come to let loose and p-a-r-t-y. Join in as soon as humanly possible.

We made it to see a great deal of bands on Friday, my highlights being Ozomatli  - a Mexican band which ended their performance after coming down into the crowd and playing a few songs – the Black Keys (my all-time faves) and, surprisingly, the Swedish Popstress Robyn who didn’t stop shaking her ass at any point during her set. Props, Robyn.

Saturday’s highlights – another surprise for me –  included Yelle, Empire of the Sun and Scissor Sisters, the latter two being ragingly flamboyant acts with some serious dance music. In the wee hours of Saturday/Sunday we decided to explore the campgrounds and, after disturbing a number of people by walking through their campsites, we stumbled upon a pretty sweet roller skating party (a rink had been built) and the Coachella Art Studios where campers were provided means for getting crafty.

Empire of the Sun on the Outdoor Stage - Saturday Night

On Sunday, the cherry was put on top of my Coachella experience when I got to see The Strokes bang out a phenomenal set on the main stage, for which we were quite near the front. Two words: Julian Casablancas. Fah-quing epic.

Riding back to the RV on Sunday night, I couldn’t help but realize that the whole experience was such a hilariously stark contrast to the pseudo-Coachella weekend we pulled last year; schmoozing at parties, lounging by the pool at a beautiful home, riding around in a limousine and spotting celebs without ever once stepping foot inside the polo fields. The only glamour in this year’s go-round came in the form of the Bonne Bell glitter we doused ourselves in each day.

The experience as a whole was so unbelievably exhausting – body, mind, soul, and more body were beyond wiped out. I’m still feeling super tired even now, after having been home for three days. I hope that’s a sign that I sure as hell got my $300 worth.

After getting back on Monday, everyone asked, “So would you go again? Are you gonna go back next year?” I had to hesitate each time I answered these questions, partly because my brain function was not up to snuff, and partly because I honestly didn’t know if I would. It was seriously hard work – the walking, the getting to and from the fields, the scheduling of the day, the dancing all around etc.

As more and more time elapses between last weekend and the present, however, the more I want to answer these inquiries with a big fat Y-E-S. It was such a unique experience – a true Disneyland for adult music fans. Where else could you go to see 12+ hours of live music from a such a variety of genres for three days in a row?

It sure as hell isn’t Stagecoach – this I know.

Keep it festive,
Lauren