Coachella’s charms: Rock and Roll is my religion, Nature’s my church

Notes from Coachella 2006

BLIND MEN AND THE ELEPHANT: Describing Coachella is like blind men describing an elephant; any single answer to the question “What was Coachella like this year” inevitably can only explain one person's perspective on a huge experience. With five stages, 70+ bands, and dozens of different places to chill out, buy food, get your drink on, socialize, meet up, and empty your bladder, I can only tell you about my trip, which probably won't sound much like anybody else's. Neither the New York Times nor Rolling Stone nor Le Blog Exuberance can possibly provide the definitive answer; any recounting is at best a personal memoir.

MADONNA AND THE MAINSTREAM: Yes, Madonna did kill Coachella, and that makes me realize something: it takes an awful lot of indie cred courage to stay away from her, even if you (like me) don't have any interest in her music. Madonna is just too much of a music and cultural icon to ignore if it turns out that she's performing in your midst.

First of all, it's worth noting that Madonna's presence amped up the babe quotient at the show; I don't remember seeing so many full-on hotties in MTV-ho gear during the previous two years. Madonna epitomizes the mainstream super-star schtick, so she brought out droves of wannabe material girls. For what it's worth, they probably weren't much like virgins.

This year's more mainstream audience is probably a result of mainstream Madonna (and also mainstream hip-hopper Kanye West, who played on Saturday), as well as the maturing of the festival itself. As word and publicity about the Coachella have grown, a few more kids in the grips of mass marketing have found their way to this desert outpost. Like San Francisco during the dot-com boom, the previously highly-refined alternative culture of Coachella was this year lightly sprinkled with goon culture — guys who come to a show to drink too much, oogle girls, and, given the right combination of too much beer and not enough attention from girls, get aggro and potentially start the kind of trouble that erupted at Woodstock '99. You could spot a small, but significant, number of young male clusters in suburban thug mode, contemplating the exercise of bad behavior.

NO MORONS WILL BE TOLERATED: Fortunately, the young male clusters actually never got out of hand. The overall good behavior of the crowd set the tone: no morons will be tolerated. Three years in a row, I've been impressed by the politeness of the crowd and the lack of obnoxious behavior. Every year, I end up chatting with a at least a dozen random folks, and every year I'm inspired to come back for more of the happy communal vibe which just about everyone is giving off.

Years ago I wrote this line for a song: “Rock and roll is my religion, Nature's my church.” That sentiment perfectly fits the experience: Coachella is when we are at our Sunday best, celebrating music and the joy of being outside together, conscious that we are blessed by our collective circumstance.

TRASHING OUR OWN YARD: Despite what I saw as good behavior overall, there was still too much of one inexcusable behavior: tossing one's trash any old place. Trash receptacles, while often full, were always nearby, yet still some people just dropped their empty water bottles on the ground. I wish the Coachella organizers did more to promote a culture of caring for the polo grounds (a beautifully manicured grass lawn) on which the festival is held. Burning Man does this very well, by insisting that you “never let it hit the ground.” A little bit of public service education could go a long way toward convincing the audience not to litter.

One thing that might help is to make recycling bins the standard blue. I recall that most of the recycling bins were artistically decorated, which made them a lot harder to recognize. It might help with the trash problem if the bins looked like something I could toss my empty into.

Below: Checking out Matisyahu.

THE GOOD STUFF: I don't mean to imply that Coachella wasn't wonderful; it was. It was amazing, it was beautiful, it was uplifting, it brought me to tears, it made me smile and shimmer and shout. And that's the thing: Coachella involves you, absorbs you, sweeps you along, surprises you and rewards you again and again.

There are so many good things about Coachella; here are a few that I can riff on:

• THE MUSIC, delivered with earnestness. These musicians all recognize how lucky they are to be part of such an inspiring event. They know they're playing to an audience that has worked hard to be there, in a sublime physical environment, and it inspires their performance. They are professionals, yes, but over and over you see them look in awe at their own good fortunes, or they confess at the microphone how humbled they are to be in front of it. And with bands this young and unexposed, you know they mean it. Their humility is endearing, and in its revealing we are all connected, knowing that we are all lovers of the art.
• THE DESERT SETTING, foreign to most of us, far removed from our every day life. The heat, at times challenging to endure, reminds us of our enduring connection to the physical environment. The visual beauty at times surpasses the sonic joy, especially at sunset when the light glows gold and the transformation of the event into night lighting begins.
• THE PEOPLE, who, like me, have often made extraordinary effort be out in this faraway place so that we could be together, hearing music in the company of like souls. It is a community of the highest order, a shared exhilaration, an experience as profound as any I've ever had. I'm the chatty type and every year I end up in conversation with a bunch of different folks throughout the day. It's a pleasure to stand in line for a beer, or sit down in a chillout tent, or wait for a band to play, and be surrounded by people who are so willing to talk about their excitement and inquire about yours. Courtesies are always exchanged, warm regards are extended. This is social behavior at its best and most worthy.
• THE ARTWORK, which usually took the form of sculpture and was often designed to be “interactive.” You didn't just stare at it — you cranked it, you banged on it, you climbed up it, you crawled through it, you rode in circles, you sat under it. Like the music, it brought people together in a shared experience.
• THE DOWNTIME AREAS, like the chillout domes (30 foot tall geodesic domes covered with a tuat white fabric), the beer gardens, the food picnic tents. I think the domes were new this year and they were my instant favorite feature, especially the one I dubbed “Autumn in New York,” which was decorated with a large branched tree trunk in the center, from which leaf rakes stuck out like branches and wooden wind chimes hung. Around the perimeter of the dome were cushioned seats in the form of tree stumps, and in the center were big furry cubes on which we could rest and strike up conversation with our peers. Completing the autumnal theme were actual dried fallen leaves scattered around the ground.
• THE FESTIVAL ORGANIZATION: bands start on time, almost like clockwork. You can actually count on the published schedule, which makes the whole thing go smoothly. Water is only $2, and you can refill your bottle at a public water fountain if you prefer. Parking is free and the traffic maintenance was smooth. Security was low-key. Restrooms were plentiful. Corporate intrusion is virtually non-existant (no Budwei*er banners hanging from stages). The commerce tents sell funky practical items like Chinese umbrellas, sunglasses, lightweight hippie clothing, and cool artist-designed t-shirts.
• SPECIAL MOMENTS, like this one: In one of the final shows of Sunday night, Art Brut's roadie was setting up one of the guitars when he accidentally unplugged the cable from the guitar without realizing it. A bunch of us guys up front watched as he tried to figure out why he wasn't getting any sound from his rig. I shouted out, “Your guitar's unplugged!!” but he couldn't hear me. He seemed to grow more frantic. “Plug in the guitar!” someone shouted, then another, “Plug in the GUITAR!” Pretty soon, a bunch of guys were shouting, trying to help the roadie out, but the roadie couldn't make out what we were saying and kept running back and forth between the amplifier and the pedal board, checking all his connections, getting no sound — rock and roll thwarted! Finally, another roadie figured out what we were saying and walked onto the stage to help. A cheer erupted from the audience. Art Brut would go on! Laughs all around.

Bye, Coachella, see you next year!

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See also my photos of Coachella 2004, photos of Coachella 2005, photos of Coachella 2006, and my Coachella 2005 wrap-up.

Read this posting by Michael McGranahan who writes beautifully about the Coachella experience.

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