words & pics by Jordan Cayer
The Southern California desert is a perplexing place. The hot, dry atmosphere leaves even the most hardened individuals gasping for water and shade. When night comes, it is often a relief that can sooth one’s sunburnt skin and leave a promising, albeit short, period of cool breeze and safe haven from the sun’s harsh rays. When that same sun rises over the San Jacinto mountains, it breathes a new life into the cool atmosphere that sets the whole cycle into motion once again.
The Coachella Valley Music and Arts Festival has taken place every year since 1999 in Indio, California, in the heart of the Mojave desert. In 2014, the festival’s 13th year, I had the pleasure of flying down to the desert to spend a hot, sweaty, satisfying weekend camping at the festival. One can experience it all at Coachella, from great music to unnecessary fashion, heat stroke to cold beers, and drugged out college students to new friends. It is a celebration of music and art which every single attendee experiences in their own, special way.
Having spent a night in a shitty hotel room in Palm Springs, I was more than excited to get my tent set up, crack a few beers, and enjoy the wondrous atmosphere that was the Coachella campground. As more and more neighbours parked their cars and set up their tents, my excitement level grew. My neighbour on one side was a fantastically friendly girl from Mexico, a huge Arcade Fire fan who seemed just as excited as I was. On the other side of me was a group of college students from Southern California, who were there to dance every night away, partying as hard as possible. It was a phenomenal dichotomy that was ever-present throughout the campground.
On Friday morning, the hot sun forced me out of my tent early. A morning spent wandering the campground revealed a lot of hilariously hungover, burnt-out festival goers (before the festival gates were even open), but hey, to each their own.
The first foray into the festival grounds showed me a gorgeous, open field, brilliantly laid out, like far too many festivals are lacking. In previous years, attending both Lollapalooza in Chicago and Osheaga in Montreal, that was something that was definitely lacking. The ease of bouncing from stage to stage was set to be something that would be no issue. And it proved to be something that enhanced my experience immensely.
By 1:00 pm on Friday, the sun was beating down its relentless heat. It was a relief, then, that the first act I saw, Waxahatchee, was in a nice shaded tent, one of 4 such stages to provide shelter from the desert sun. Katie Crutchfield and her band set the tone for the weekend with blistering renditions of songs mostly from her brilliant Cerulean Salt LP. From there, it was off to see the fun synth-pop of MS MR and Grouplove at the main stage, a quick stop to marvel at the glamorous rock & roll of HAIM, and a chance to see Kate Nash pull out all the stops to be both incredible odd yet hopelessly charming with her all girl line-up of garage rock (a direction I was unaware, yet pleasantly surprised, that she went in after her piano pop debut in 2007). The highlight of this long day was Chromeo back at the main stage, who put on a dance-y, synth-y showcase and worked the huge Coachella crowd like magic. They gushed at their rise from side-tent afternooners to main stage party goers, while appeasing the California crowd by playing a short, fun, vocoder filled cover of 2PAC’s “California Love”, which got the huge throng of overheated music fans cheering as the sun went down.
Outkast, however was a different story. The much-hyped revival of one of the most beloved hip-hop acts of the past 20 years was marred by an unimpressive performance by Andre 3000, whose much publicized hatred for touring was the reason for the intial demise of the duo in 2007. The set had a few highlights by means of well-known singles that half of the audience was there to see, thus raising the energy levels when songs such as “Ms. Jackson”and “Hey Ya”were played, but otherwise, it was an anti-climactic end to a brilliant first day.
Saturday morning was hot, busy, and easily the most talent-packed day of the festival. From the very first notes played by the fun post-punkers Bear Hands to the raunchy still-know-how-to-kick-your-ass Queens of the Stone Age, it was a non-stop foray into how to see as much amazing music in 12 hours as I possibly could. Bear Hands played a great early set which featured a few of their satellite radio ready singles, and immediately after, I got nice and close to see the psychedelic classic rock revival of Foxygen.
The absolute ridiculousness of Foxygen frontman Sam France’s on-stage antics both added to the mystique and distracted from the overall show. It reminded me of a late-era Doors show, with France acting as Jim Morrison in the middle of a drug-fuelled on stage collapse. He huffed, hollered, jumped, and kicked his way through the bands intensely scorching mid-afternoon set, often throwing the mic and laying on-stage while the band played on. Overall, the band got through the set with some minor technical issues despite France’s mystifying behavior.
On the same stage immediately after, I was treated to a double dose of festival mayhem, albeit courtesy of two completely different genres. Ty Segall put on a blistering display of noisy garage rock, while CHVRCHES brought an entirely captivating display of electro-pop on right after. It was exhausting and sweaty and afforded me a nice break in one of the side tents.
From the outside of the Gobi tent, a stage I spent much of my time at over the course of the weekend, Holy Ghost! finished up an energetic set right as I strolled in. My timing was rewarded, as the dispersing crowd earned me a front-and-centre look at one of my highlights of the festival, Washed Out. Ernest Green brought a full band to perform a set which was both energetic and relaxing. The sensual sounds sampled from his entire catalogue seemed like they were made for the oasis of shade that the tent provided and made for an entirely fulfilling sensory experience in the middle of the day.
After such a long day, it was easy to relax and check out the 17-year-old Lorde from afar, who put on a masterpiece of a festival headlining show. Her and her two-piece band put on a great sunset show for an unsurprisingly huge crowd; she did not seem like someone who couldn’t legally drink anywhere in North America. She was wise beyond her years and exhumed a great maturity on stage.
The day ended off with a powerhouse performance from hometown heroes Queens of the Stone Age. They surprised by opening with their Songs for the Deaf masterpiece “You Think I Ain’t Worth A Dollar, But I Feel Like A Millionaire,” screamed by frontman Josh Homme, and the tone never settled from there on. The raucous set ended with a handful of false endings which were brilliantly orchestrated and sent the exhausted crowd into a frenzy. Upon their sets end, I was finished for the day. It was back to the campground to attempt to get some energy back for a much easier third and final day.
Sunday, for me, was spent almost entirely in anticipation for the last act of the festival, Arcade Fire. Luckily, I was not waiting in vain, as a handful of great acts, spaced out a lot better than the previous day, kept me entertained from gate opening to festival close. I started off the day with the slacker rock of Courtney Barnett, one of my most anticipated acts of the festival, and for good reason. Barnett put on a fantastic show in what seemed like an odd atmosphere for such a relaxed group of Aussies. Her brilliant songwriting skills broke through the dry heat and created a fantastic jolt of energy to start off my Lazy Sunday. The two highlights off of her The Double EP: A Sea of Split Peas, “History Eraser”and “Avant Gardener”were just that live, a perfect anthem to my energy level and the highlight of my afternoon.
From there, it was relaxing and fantastic. The Naked and Famous played a wonderful, high-octane dance rock set on main stage and Neutral Milk Hotel, even all these years later, blasted through an incredible set of old favourites, from “King of Carrot Flowers (Parts 1, 2 and 3) to “In the Aeroplane Over the Sea”. Jeff Magnum’s voice still held true, and they created a perfect atmosphere for all of the old school indie folk lovers in the crowd.
After sitting down for beers and having a nice meal, I found myself back at the main stage for the most exciting part of my festival. Beck was just coming onto the stage, and he put on a show that could rival any of the EDM headliners in terms of twists and turns and pure showmanships. His mega-talented band found themselves improvising through Beck’s ramblings more than once, and they pulled it off brilliantly. The biggest cheer of the set was obviously for his huge 90s hit “Loser”, but the crowd stayed on his side through random adventures into blues jams and even a story about Arcade Fire which ended in a quick, fun cover of their “Rebellion (Lies)”.
Beck and his band were cut off after a 15-minute, adventurous version of “Where It’s At”, bowed, and left the stage. Immediately, crews acted fast to set up the wonder that was Arcade Fire’s stage set-up. After a half-hour wait, the band ventured onto the festival stage, and after frontman Win Butler announced that he had some “special Easter guests”, Daft Punk(!!) walked out and played a quick, hilariously slowed down version of “Get Lucky”, cut off soon after by Butler’s “What the fuck is going on?”. That moment really encapsulated the brilliant energy and showmanship that was soon to follow; after an incredibly energetic opener of “Normal Person”, Arcade Fire went on to make this huge festival stage feel like a dance club, right down to the mirrored ceiling. A B-stage in the middle of the crowd provided an incredibly different dynamic, as Régine Chassagne sung two songs separate from the rest of the band. Beck made another appearance, covering Prince’s “Constellations”with the band. Upon sets end, after over an hour of pure, unadulterated ecstasy and showmanship, the crowd demanded more. With the chants of “One More Song!”echoing through the festival grounds, the band raced through the crowd dividers with acoustic guitars, a brass band, and a megaphone, continuing their set-ender “Wake Up”as the crowd continued to belt it. As they wrapped everything up, it suddenly set in that this was the last show of my music-packed weekend. It was a perfect ending to a wonderful festival.
Coachella Valley Music and Arts Festival is an experience like none other. It gets flack for its odd attendees, but really, when it comes down to it, it is a festival with something for everybody. The Sahara and Yuma tents brought all of the heart pounding energy for those drug-fuelled raves, and there was everything from Mötorhead to City and Colour for every type of music fan to enjoy. Would I go back to Coachella? Probably. But not before experiencing something a little smaller, and maybe slightly less in the desert.