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Posts Tagged ‘New Order’

The last day of the weekend, as is tradition, came in searing hot with temperatures hovering around mid-90s. Fairly balmy as far as the desert goes (I seriously do not know how Weekend 2 does it), in fact, but for a Coachella with some of the best weather I’ve ever experienced – no wind storms! – this must have been penance. Those who shook off the accumulated dust, depleted serotonin and residual hangovers of 2+ days were rewarded with the finest lineup of the weekend, all surging to King Kendrick’s closing set that you could feel as a palpable anticipation over the grounds. The rapper’s coming out party had some serious competition beforehand, though, thank to two shockingly lovely sets on the Outdoor Stage from an old favorite from Ed Banger and a fish-out-of-water composer better known from the red carpet.

First, though, I made it a point to play through the pain and get to the festival earlier rather than later to catch the indoor set from under-appreciated Brooklyn indie band Caveman. The Fat Possum rockers remain firmly under the radar after last year’s War on Drugs-aping Otero War, but their live show showed a band ready to take the next step. The same goes for singer-songwriter Ezra Furman, whose rough-and-tumble set on the Outdoor Stage not only made dancing under the sun somewhat tolerable for a few minutes, but was also the only artist I saw all weekend who had the balls to call…

For the first time in my years attending Coachella – whether it’s because Sputnik is finally ascending to the big leagues or the organizers were annoyed at my yearly badgering – I was granted a media pass. This is not as cool as it initially sounds – i.e., I can’t go backstage or to the VIP and do coke with Pusha T,  nor can I flash my bracelet at security and bypass the huddled masses at the general admission lines. I can, however, acquire free water and fruit bars (shout out to Fruttare! your strawberry rules) at the media area, as well as use bathrooms that aren’t piled high with MDMA shits and don’t stink (quite as bad). I also got to go backstage at the Do LaB and see just how that party of water guns, painted dancers and endless, twitchy bass functions from noon to midnight, as well as check out the VJ booth at the Sahara tent, an island of sanity and artwork amidst a sea of shirtless, sweaty ravers. It’s where the VJ (video jockey) and his team work out the 3D video mapping visuals for the DJs who perform, where light shows are as integral a part of someone’s set as the music is. It’s also where women in high heels lay out on the couch and guys sip Heineken self-importantly – at Coachella, your power and coolness directly correlates with how many wristbands you have on your arm.

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