Once more into the desert
Three years ago, my buddy Glenn and I set off into the desert, enduring 111-degree days, exorbitant water prices, hostile event organizers and Los Angeles, all in the name of music.
Every year, since 1999, the city of Indio, Calif. has played host to the Coachella Valley Music and Arts Festival. The festival is held at the Empire Polo Field, a place designed for two things: Polo and heat stroke.
A college degree and a few good jobs later, we decided to do it again, and this time we'd bring more people to share our misery with.
Camping
Posts on the Coachella online forum suggested that getting to the campsite early was the difference between a 20 minute wait and a two hour wait. After an hour and a half of standing in an un-shaded, dusty line, carrying all of our camping gear, we made it through the security check and got placed in section C.
The campground was an auxiliary polo field and each of us were welcome to 36 square feet of it. Our party set up three tents and raised our checkers flag with some extra tent poles, an act that would prove most useful when the other 19,994 campers took their places.
The campground had its own food, a beer garden ($7 for 12 ounces), portable bathrooms and showers, and a wireless Internet and charging tent. Inside the wi-fi tent, people would plug their phone chargers into a portable wall filled with electrical outlets, then take a seat and stare at the wall, waiting for their phones to charge. The image was reminiscent of a big tent revival, where people had gathered to hear the electric gospel.
Day One
The sun woke the campsite up at 7 or 8 a.m. every day, raising the temperature to 85 degrees by 9 a.m.
No bands were playing until 2 a.m., so the day was spent throwing the Frisbee around and drinking water.
The festival grounds are massive, but the event organizers managed to pack it to the brim with six stages, three beer gardens, three food courts and several large art installations.
Using the set list, I planned my day. At 2 p.m., Comedians of Comedy, leave halfway through to see Nickel Creek, stick around the stage for Of Montreal. Afterward, I had some wander time. I checked out the Arctic Monkeys, then Amy Winehouse. I caught the beginning of Peaches, decided it wasn't for me and headed to the beer garden to listen to The Jesus and Mary Chain. I finished off the day with Gogol Bordello, who, by far, was the best show of the festival.
Day Two
The second day was the most filled out. There was only one point of the day when there was no one playing that I wanted to see.
I started the day with Fountains of Wayne, stuck around for Regina Spektor. I made a bee-line to the Outdoor Stage (smaller than the Main Stage) to catch the New Pornographers followed by — Portland's own — The Decemberists. Back at the beer garden, Kings of Leon were rocking the Main Stage. The Arcade Fire took the stage at 7:30 p.m. and blew my mind until the sun went down. I decided that I would be in the pit for at least one headliner, so I pushed my way to the Main Stage for the Red Hot Chili Peppers. I went to sleep reeking of the sweat of 1,000 men.
Day Three
The next morning, talk of a "riot" spread through the campground. The night before, a drum circle went past the curfew and was broken up by the cops. A few people were Tazed, some were arrested, and the whole thing ended when the helicopter showed up. The campground was big enough for a "riot" to occur with most people being oblivious to the fact.
My roommate Adrian pointed out the fact that, the day before Rage Against the Machine took the stage, the Machine showed up to quell a drum circle.
I had no interest in seeing the opening bands on Sunday, but went in anyway to expand my horizons. Tapes 'n Tapes, another indie rock group, played at the Mojave Tent, then I met up with our party at the Main Stage beer garden to listen to the instrumental rock of Explosions in the Sky. I hung around there, enjoying The Roots, until Willie Nelson took the stage. Swung by the Outdoor Stage to catch Placebo, then on to the Dome to see Cut Chemist and meet up with my party. Spent an hour getting food and beer then caught Ratatat at the Mojave Tent.
Rage
I have never seen a crowd of 50,000 people, but there one was, sitting in between us and the Main Stage.
We found a spot in the crowd where we could enjoy a good view of the giant screens where event organizers projected the artists. The crowd exploded when they saw the image of Zack de la Rocha jumping up and down offstage. The band ran out and took up their instruments. Guitarist Tom Morello launched into the first riff of "Testify" and the concert began. Elbows were thrown. A pit was moshed. Governments were denounced. People were injured. Perfect.
Coachella 2007 was over.
