Photo by LastNightsParty
Lesley Arfin finally made it to Coachella (read Day One and Two), but was it like her adolescent nightmare or did it end up being a glorious festival reawakening?
Is It A Crisis Or A Boring Change? by Lesley Arfin
DAY THREE
Okay, so now let's talk about Day 3, the day where I actually get to experience the monstrosity that is Coachella and...dare I say actually really like it? I'm gonna preface by talking about the Insane Clown Posse video everyone is all worked up about. You know the one, "Miracles," they made fun of it on SNL. And rightly so, it's corny and funny and really easy to make fun of rappers who dress up like clowns and talk about nature (I never thought I'd write a sentence like that). But it's easy to make fun of something like that. A lot of times I get caught up in judgement and irony not because the subject truly angers me, but because it kind of touches me. It makes me feel vulnerable in a way that I don't want other people to know about because it's not fucking cool to look vulnerable. That's kind of how I've felt about music in general for a long time. It was something very private for me, something I never wanted to talk about or even see live and maybe would even pretend that I hate, not because it didn't effect me but because it effected me SO MUCH. If I cry when I listen to The Cranberries sing "Linger," I certainly don't want you or anyone else to know about it. And the fact that that's actually a "thing," that music can trigger something so ancient or meaningful to me is, as the Insane Clown Posse would say, PURE MOTHERFUCKING MAGIC. I had forgotten about this magical force of nature until I got to Coachella. So every shirtless raver with glow sticks and acid eyes and flame throwers, I feel you guys. They weren't caught up in backstage passes. They didn't care what you were wearing or how many famous people you got to fan out on. You just wanted to hear music for the sake of music. I can dig it.
To be honest this thought occurred to me as I was watching The Soft Pack. They played at 12:55pm in one of the side tents and even though it was early and a lot of people were so hungover from the night before that they couldn't make it, a lot of people did. And they killed it and started a clap-chant during the song "Mexico" and the dudes in the band were smiling and I was like, "Yeah you should feel good. That's that PMFM right there." Girls in awkward outfits were shouting out songs and I was like "Wow, that used to be me." The day had already started out lucky because there was no traffic and we all slid in quickly and didn't have to deal with Nazi ticketing bullshit. After The Soft Pack I ate a hamburger and sat on the grass with Hilary and we asked each other what we wanted to happen for us in the future. I drank an iced coffee and whowhatwear.com asked me about my outfit (a dress from no.6) and we smoked cigs and sat in the shade. This was the calm before the storm.
People started coming. Lots of people. People I knew, people I hadn't seen in years, people who were playing, famous people, dorky people, everyone. They all came. Our mini crew of boys reassembled and we walked around not knowing where to put ourselves but still taking it all in. It was fucking hot. I got free cigarettes from a tent and Melanie Griffith was sitting on the grass near us. I heard De La Soul play which sounded kinda weird and got my balls busted for wanting to see Matt and Kim. Then this boy that I liked held my hand and that introduced a whole new set of PMFM feelings. He took me backstage and we sat around for a while and my inner 14 year old was high fiving the 31 year old that was sitting there trying to be cool. I did feel cool. I felt really cool.
He grabbed my hand and we began our swim through the sea of people trying to go see Sly Stone. He kept obsessing about whether or not Sly Stone was gonna show up and I was all "Of course he will, what's the problem?" But I guess Sly Stone never shows up anywhere or else walks off stage and lives in a van down by the river or whatever. So yeah, it was 7pm and he didn't show up. The boy grabbed my hand again and we kept on moving, trying to find a way in, any way in, to see Pheonix. The sun was starting to set and people on drugs started peaking. Pheonix sounded good but we were what seemed like miles away from the stage, which was fine with me, because I was totally engulfed in this massive swarm of people moving around me in every direction. I felt like a little kid looking up at a bunch of people who are way taller than me. I felt like a ladybug who had accidentally stepped into a beehive. I could have stood there just watching and feeling the crowd for hours. Ah, maybe not, but I really liked the feeling, maybe because it was so fleeting.
Eventually we found a bench and watched Pavement, which was the highlight of the night even though the set was kind long. Have you ever sat on a bench for an hour straight? It was starting to hurt my butt. But yeah they fucking ruled, it was the perfect soundtrack to accompany my emotions. It was night and the Coachella beams of light shot around the sky like spaceships. It felt like I was somewhere else, on another day, in a parallel universe where really good things always happen in a row. I sat there and tried to be there in the moment without thinking thoughts as much as I could. I think I did a good job.
Getting home was another story. We kind of didn't have a ride. At night it gets windy and the dust picks up, so we walked a long time through a big parking lot and got dirt in our eyes and teeth and I peed behind a car and maybe peed on myself a little. Whatever. After some hustling and wandering and waiting we got a ride and headed back to Palm Springs. I was beat to shit and hungry and dirty but also really, really happy.
The next day I got a ride back to LA with The Soft Pack who scooped me up. I felt all "I'm With The Band" about it and told a dumb story and felt stupid but overall it ruled and those guys are funny. I didn't want to drink water because then I'd have to pee and I didn't want to be the girl in the van who always has to pee.
In LA I saw some friends and ate some meals and did some other things that I'm putting in a memory time capsule and burying in my mental backyard so I can dig it up later when I need to. I feel asleep early. I got a ride to the airport the next day and got into a minor car accident on the Freeway, so that happened too. And that's it.
Kanon sent me out there to witness a catastrophe and write about it. I witnessed only things that make me wanna go back to Coachella every month. But only with the same people and the same songs. Only if it's an exact replica of exactly what happened, which of course it won't be. Maybe next year I'll be able to stomach it again though. Somehow I doubt it.
Read more by Lesley at Cafe Con Lesley.
