Where the desert meets a polo field, nestled in a little nook known as Indio, CA, is a place which should be referred to as heaven. Lip-smacking heaven. Think: the BIGGEST names in music, hippy vibes and jives and a whole lotta substance abuse. Bliss.
It’s taken me a few days to recover from the sheer awesomeness and alcohol induced haze of Coachella to actually write about it, but as I would like to inject jealousy and loathing in the most pure of music-hearted souls I’ll give it a go.
Coachy involved rehashing the hippy moves to groove to the delight that is Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros (you could not find a happier looking 10-some -they were giggling with the look of children on a candy high). There was repeated swooning at the pure godliness of that who goes by the earthly name of Julian Casablancas, and then pure awe at the stage presence of Florence + the Machine. Muse was practically a religious experience, and then Thom Yorke topped it off with a surprise gig with his new band Atoms for Peace with Flea and some dude from Beck (when your in a band with Flea and Thom Yorke, you’re always going to be reduced to ‘some dude’ I’m afraid). Deadmau5 was absolutely. in.sane. and my girl-crush on Zoe Deschanel has become full-blown love after seeing She & Him.
Inbetween these transcendental gigs, we whittled away the hours at the arts-and-crafts tents with feathers, a needle and thread and tales of music folklore. There was face painting and screen printing, outdoor yoga, pizza of inhumane proportions, chillin at the site with a couple of tinnies and celeb spotting. It was a long weekend of raving, ripped denim shorts, boat shoes, babes and beats – an exquisite level of awesomeness on all fronts.
Sounds young & wonderful Kayla xx