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As Coachella ages, the festival becomes self-sustaining
INDIO, Calif, – Once upon a time, there was a rock music festival held every April in the California desert whose meticulous curation of artists old and new made it the de facto tastemaker for the industry. Today, there is just Coachella. And although this three-day frolic in the sun may no longer be the most influential gathering of its kind, it has achieved something potentially even larger – an ability to sustain itself.
The three-day music marathon concluded its second weekend on Sunday, selling some 150,000 passes in total and making it the most-successful festival of its kind with gross receipts of about $50 million, according to Billboard. Almost 150 bands, musicians and performance artists made the trek to Indio, a scruffy suburb of Palm Springs, on two successive weekends to play on one of a half-dozen stages.
On this, the 14th Coachella Valley Music and Arts Festival, it would not be far off to say the event’s financial success has eclipsed its influence. Coachella once was the premier showcase for bands on the precipice of breaking out ‑ Arcade Fire or LCD Soundsystem come to mind – or those re-forming ‑ such as Pavement or Rage Against the Machine – to play for audiences who rediscovered their music.
Yet 2013 may prove to be the year that the festival, and the Coachella brand, transcended the music. Look no further than this year’s lineup. As music bloggers have remarked, Coachella 2013 was notably light on big names or breakout performers. The Red Hot Chili Peppers and Blur, main stage headliners on Friday and Sunday, long ago reached their peaks of popularity. Saturday’s closing acts were New Order, Sigur Ros and Phoenix. The latter, the youngest of the bunch, played the main stage. But having been active as long as Coachella has been in existence, Phoenix is hardly a breakout act.
There wasn’t even a major first-time reunion draw, one of the most successful Coachella features. British New Wave group Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark played for the first time on American shores in years. But not only did it play one of the smaller stages, the Gobi Tent, it played third fiddle to electronic acts Dub FX and Disclosure.
Yet despite a lackluster lineup, tickets sold out for both weekends. Most were sold even before the lineup had been officially announced. True, three-day general admission passes were advertised on the Internet for as little as half the $349 face value right up until the second weekend kickoff. But the crowds that jammed into Indio’s Empire Polo Grounds suggested there were not many unused wristbands.
Ironically, these queuing masses are an indication not just of Coachella’s popularity but also of the festival’s ability to remain relevant even after its role as tastemaker has diminished. In a sense, what looks like a security gantlet designed to inconvenience may be best viewed as a reflection of sound long-term risk management.
After 9/11, Americans found their travel lives had been altered permanently by stepped-up security measures, having to arrive extra-early at the airport or having to doff shoes for the metal detector. Post-Boston, Americans must adjust to terror of a more random sort, something that can turn any gathering of citizens, such as those waiting at the finish line of a race, into a lethal tragedy. Coachella’s organizers appear to have understood this well before Boston, though security was stepped up in subtle ways between weekend one and weekend two.
The venue is surrounded by a veritable ziggurat of metal fencing and checkpoints. The full-body pat-downs begin about half a mile from the festivities. Girls to the left, where a female guard runs her hands up, down, even around the underside of their breasts. Men queue to the right, where they must empty their pockets, and turn their back to the guard and submit. Pockets, even wallets, are randomly searched.
An elderly concertgoer was busted with two joints in his pack of Marlboros and escorted to the “Amnesty Box,” where he was forced to dump his delicately rolled cigarillos. I was asked to tip my hat to ensure there was nothing hiding above my scalp or in the underside of my cap. After all this, festivalgoers must present their wristbands to an electronic reader.
A couple hundred yards later, through various horse gates, miles of additional fencing and a merger with another lane of pedestrians coming from the parking area, attendees are subjected to an identical security check. Once inside the grounds, buying a beer requires another set of security checks. Apart from the line to present identification, each beer garden entry is manned by three people checking wristbands.
Now, to experienced concertgoers, Coachella’s combination of a so-so musical lineup and airport-like security may not sound like a winning formula. But the veterans and music geeks are only along for the ride at this point. Coachella’s promoter, Goldenvoice, a division of the Anschutz Entertainment Group, has achieved something else.
Creating a safe environment – like a mall where even rainy-day music lovers get to sample a broad array of artists, including some like Nick Cave that would not normally get to play in front of a large crowd – is what makes Coachella sustainable, commercially and culturally.
For older folks (such as this author) unaccustomed to passing through Checkpoint Charlie for a concert, for post-Boston America the combination just might be sufficient for me to allow my children to attend. That suggests a viable business that crosses generations ‑ even if it is just a big party.
PHOTO: Flea of the Red Hot Chili Peppers performs during the Coachella Music Festival in Indio, California April 14, 2013. REUTERS/Mario Anzuoni