Whelp, you know what time it is! The weather is turning, the air is ripe with flower jizzum, even the birds are chirping: It's Festival time! Time to empty your wallets (quickly, quickly, tickets selling fast) in $100, $200, $300, even $400 increments in order to get the best "live music" experience as possible. By that I mean a drunk lead singer who sounds nothing like the album you have been playing on repeat more days of your year than not, bright LED lights sweeping over yourself like a multi-colored rainbow facial, and definitely the musk and weed smoke of your fellow mosh pitters. With shows like Bonnaroo, Coachella, even the great Burning Man entering the mainstream atmosphere year after year, it's getting harder and harder for me to remember where the point of it all really lies. You go to a live show to support your favorite artists, as well as discover new sounds and vibes. That seems pretty sensible, right? So what happens if the venue isn't paying artists as well as they could, or should? What happens if you're favorite festival-next-door is now sponsored by Heineken and Hooters? Now you're in the middle of 40,000 of your closest friends, eating $7 hot dogs and drinking $8 beers. I'm a young man, so forgive me for my ignorance of how times were before I came of age, but it appears to me that festivals have lost their soul. Sure, there are most definitely small festivals out there that hold true to themselves and do it with purpose. And I suppose that's where the purists flock to, escaping the false harbor of commercialism and consumption. The gigs I see plastered all over Facebook during the summer resemble an orgy of self-absorbed fools more preoccupied with making sure they have been seen than really seeing. I don't mean to be cynical, and I recognize that I'm not offering any better alternatives here. But I swear to God if I have to watch the RHCP headline one more time I'm going to lose it. What do you all think? M
