At the beginning of the COVID-19 lockdown, my sister and I hosted stay-at-home music festivals for ourselves. We would get dressed up, play different DJs’ livestreams on each of the TVs in our house, and run up and down the stairs as though we were stage-hopping. We used to joke that we didn’t even miss the real thing—after all, we had clean bathrooms, unlimited snacks, and we got to pick the lineup ourselves!
Of course, our quarantine shenanigans were merely a distraction from mourning in-person events. For both of us, live music had been a necessary refuge. No matter what we were struggling with in our day-to-day lives, we could lose ourselves in the sweaty crowds and loud music at the end of the week. I never thought I would say this, but at the height of COVID, I even missed getting caught in mosh-pits.
Rest in peace, festival season 2020. I had high hopes for you.
Music festivals did make a comeback this year, however, and I had the enormous pleasure of attending two: Dancefestopia in LaCygne, Kansas and Lost Lands in Thornville, Ohio. I used to have my festival routine down to a science, but after taking a year off, I felt a bit unprepared. I got to thinking about how camping festivals, especially, are a huge pain! You have to haul your gear in, brave the elements, and walk miles across the grounds to get where you need to go. Food and ice are expensive; the crowds are daunting; three days of partying is nothing short of exhausting. And God forbid you’re trying to organize a big group—I traveled solo to both festivals and that was hard enough. I said to myself, these things must be pretty damn fun if we tolerate all of the headaches.
I’ve determined that, for most people, music festivals are so much more than a source of escapist entertainment. They are liminal spaces, conduits of social and spiritual transformation, opportunities for us to return to our most primal impulses. For one or two weekends a year, we can set aside ordinary rules, judgments, and expectations. We can come together as a community and simply dance.
Here are some of the reasons that I suck it up and pay $15 for a grilled cheese once a year:
1) When we gather in front of the mainstage, we move in sync to the rhythmic bass and flashing lights, subconsciously evoking age-old traditions of dancing around a fire. We’ve been dancing together ceremonially since the dawn of mankind; this simple ritual unites us across cultures, generations, and belief systems. Each member of the crowd comes from a different walk of life, but when we bop our heads in unison, I am reassured of our cosmic connectedness.
2) In addition to the lineup of musical acts, most festivals offer a wealth of performance art, fine art installations, art vendors, and creative workshops to partake in. Personally, I thrive in communities that emphasize artistic experience. Moreover, I love when art is treated as a universal gift, intrinsic to every human’s nature, as opposed to a rare skill that must be honed for capital gain. In the “real” world,” I often feel pressured to turn my art into commercial success, but festivals allow me to enjoy art for art’s sake.
3) Sleeping under the stars is therapeutic. I go camping often, but for many people, music festivals are the only times they lay directly on the earth. I believe we could all benefit from spending a few days outdoors and surrendering to the spontaneity of nature. At the very least, you’ll learn to never take air conditioning for granted.
4) The suspension of normalcy inside the festival encourages adult attendees to adopt a childlike sense of play. We all wear our most brightly colored outfits, abandon our inhibitions, and bond over silly things like rubber ducks and slinkies. It’s the one weekend a year where I could carry around a teddy bear and only get questions like “what’s his name?!” We deserve a few days to feed our imaginations, to be (responsibly!) carefree and innocent again.
5) Most importantly, festivals provide a space of community and unconditional compassion, shared even between complete strangers. Everyone is always in such a great mood! Every time I have attended a fest, alone or with a group, I have always been met with generosity, hospitality, and genuine care. The music motivates us to look out for one another, and the festival grounds become a sanctuary from our everyday struggles.
I am constantly working to undo the social conditioning that tells me I am closed off from my fellow humans, that I am restricted in my self-expression, that I am not an organic being. In the festival community, this work has been done for me. I am free to be my creative, playful, true self. I can stand barefoot on the ground and dig my toes into the dirt. I am one with others just by being there and being present.
On a fundamental level, the desire to dance with loved ones under an open sky is one that we can all relate to. This primitive urge allows me to connect deeply with individuals who I would ordinarily never even cross paths with. So, even though music festivals are certainly a hassle and a half, they’re worth every minute.
