By: Kyle Kowalski
I don’t have high expectations for the month of April. It means final exams, confusing weather, and waiting yet another month for my parents to finally let me play in the backyard and drink from the watering hose. Do they expect me to live on my own to pay LA rent just for the privilege of playing raccoons in my own damn grass? The only refuge I have is Coachella. Each year, my experience at this sepia-filter Tomorrowland is similar to eating three-day-old lukewarm mashed potatoes: sure, it’s mildly amusing, but why am I always caught enjoying it in the background of other people’s Instagram photos.
I was excited for Kanye West to perform. I was excited for the abstract art performance of a paper mache Pete Davidson being cut by a potato peeler. Hell, even for the opportunity to talk to the girl standing next to me in the crowd about how Kanye is really misunderstood as an artist and that really if you listen to his albums front to back, especially stronger, you would realize that they’re a metaphor for growing up and the sample in Late Graduation that goes like ‘bum bum ba beep’ was really pulled from a late 1920s swing band, but with doubled bpm and distorted vocals, which is really unique for a rapper, it actually has never been done before so Kanye is actually so much better like his album isn’t a piece of music it’s an experience and his line of gilded age trombone shoes are a continuation of his intent to make the listener reverse time when they look at the album art.
I also like to stare at the lasers. aaaaaaa
But now I have to listen to Quinn XCII: the guy who looks like the yellow M&M grew up working at a Maine coffee shop. If I’m going to dress up like I’m going to a bohemian-themed singles meet & greet, the last thing I want to hear is a song that sounds like it belongs in a Despicable Me credit roll. I’m sure the stage set-up will be great. I’ve heard rumors that he’ll be performing ‘Candle’ dressed up as a hipster version of Lumiere with Robert Egger’s ‘The Lighthouse’ final scene playing in the background. For that reason, I plan to match his energy in my 1880s Massachusetts Fishing hamlet wardrobe. I’ll blend into the crowd next to the girl wearing a collection of actual fishing nets and Kanye West in a very tall trench coat.
You’ll probably see me there regardless. My parents say I can only live in the guest room Sundays through Thursdays and Coachella is one of the few places I can bring a few suitcases and not look out of place. If you see a man dressed up as Captain K’nuckles arguing with security about why he can’t dig up the bowl of mashed potatoes he buried by the fence three days ago. Don’t forget to have a good time. Enjoy the financial duress brought on by the cost of one Coachella™ vintage tequila seltzer made with pureed pomegranates. I’ll be in the crowd wondering if Quinn’s beanie is really a parasite puppeting him around like a yellow-tinted Weekend At Bernie’s.