Coachella

A pilgrimage of hipsters to a land where fanny packs are alright and sweat profusely is part of the experience. 

Indio in the Palm Desert opened and up its Polo fields to thousands of children looking for form new facebook albums and maybe see a band or two. Food was expensive, the line for water was questionable, and upon some slight research it was discovered that the most common injury in the place was getting stabbed by a stray needle.

Everyone came dressed to impress, so the crowd was a patch work of vintage patterns and big sunglasses. "trench forecasters" ran around frantically with cameras trying desperately to create some sort of mainstream movement based on the wardrobe choices of some stoned kids in the desert. 

Beautiful strangers flourished, with the average person falling in love ten times per hour, only to have their new lover continue walking away and out of their life forever. BUT DID YOU SEE HIS MUSTACHE?

I spent the weekend in a delirium spurred by beer, cold medicine, a cold, sun exposure, weed, and general dehydration. With a melting eyes and a slack jaw, I stumbled around the fields confused trying to figure out where all my friends went. You turn around for one second and all ten of them have dispersed into the crowd of flannel or floral never to be seen again until they randomly appear in the beer garden when you are sipping some with some new friends you made at Amanda Palmer's show. 

Now for some bullet points:

Fleet Foxes: a refreshing breeze of spot on harmonies in the midst of the raw and sweaty harshness that is Coachella. They maintained their soothing melodies even with the new-wave reggae band bumping twice as loud from the main stage. They played right as the sun was setting, crooning into an oblivion of purple and pink hues, and a lady bug sat on my neck for almost the entire set.

Beirut: surprisingly jovial atmosphere with everyone in the tent knowing all the words to Nantes. My beloved Zack Condon was sipping what appeared to by whiskey straight, smirked his smirked and danced in his usual way of mixing the right amount of head bob to orchestrating gestures. He did he famous hair-through-the-hair-bit and he played both "Postcards from Italy" and "Scenic World." Solid performance. 

Devandra Banhart: Bouncy and excited man he is! Adorning shades of the brightest pink with a festive hat, making all the girls wonder how he gets his hair so shiny with just the right amout of wave; looking handsome with the newly shaved face. Really works the crowd and played songs that were suitable for a festival. Towards the middle of his set he passed the bottle of patron he was sipping out of into the audience.

There are so many more, but I doubt enough people will read this to make it acceptable for me to type it all out and try to find words for all of it.

It was a good weekend, odd to be back at school. Ran into a bunch of people I was extremely happy to see and was extremely happy I didn't see anyone that would put anything remotely close to a damper on my sunshine faded elated Coachella experience. Because they do exist, those bastards.