Seven Thousand of My Friends

I've been to a lot of festivals. Same Same But Different (@ssbdfest) is now somewhere near the top of the list, and I'm still trying to work out exactly why.

The short answer is the people. The longer answer is this whole post.

The half nobody buys a ticket for

I got to Lake Perris on the 21st, days before the gates opened, to work on the build crew.

If you've only ever walked into a festival, you've missed the strangest part. Before the lights and the sound and the crowds, it's an empty lakeside park in the desert heat, a reservoir the color of a swimming pool, and a crew of volunteers with pallets, zip ties and a forklift that is always somewhere else. You haul things. You stake things. You stand in the sun waiting on the forklift. And slowly, the place turns into something.

Build week: art panels drying on the grass, and a cat waiting for somewhere to go.

The main stage going up.

The crew is its own little tribe. You spend days together before anyone else shows up, and by the time the gates open you know half the people on site by first name. One day I helped serve meals to most of the early crew, which is about the most useful I've ever felt holding a ladle.

Feeding the crew.

The lake. That color is real.

Then everyone else arrived

Thursday night was the pre-party: one stage open, the early crowd drifting in, and the Inner Space letters glowing across the grass. Then on Friday the whole festival opened, and the place I'd spent the week helping build filled up with people.

Thursday night, the pre-party.

The music: Vincent Antone (@vincentantonemusic) did a great opening set that set the tone for the whole weekend. LSDREAM (@lsdream) was amazing. Of the Trees (@ofthetreesmusic), Gramatik (@gramatik), and Andy Frasco & The U.N. (@andyfrasco) were all on the bill too, and the sound carried out across the water long after dark.

Friday night at the main stage.

There was art everywhere. Grandma's House. Nakey Island, which you reached by boat, with house music playing out on the water during the day. I'll let the photos do some of the explaining here.

Live painting by @groovypalettes.

Nakey Island: house music on the sand, Friday afternoon.

The best RV camping I've ever had

This deserves its own section, because anyone who has done festival camping knows how rare it is. Power. Water. Clean bathrooms with actual showers. Level parking. And all of it a few minutes' walk from the music.

Home for the week.

When you're going to bed at four or five in the morning and getting up a few hours later to do it all again, those things stop being luxuries.

3:24 a.m. Still going.

Seven thousand of my friends

That's what it felt like. Not seven thousand strangers: seven thousand friends I hadn't met yet. Every conversation was easy. People just talked to each other.

On the last night a chef cooked authentic Thai food for dinner, and it was amazing. Exactly the kind of thing you don't expect at a festival and end up remembering longest.

I also did a little shopping, which for me right now means things small enough to carry to Europe. My favorite was from Sara (@sarakali.nyc), who makes light-up jellyfish earrings and fobs. She was delightful, and her jellyfish are coming with me across the Atlantic.

Me, and a jellyfish bound for Europe.

Why it worked

The weather was amazing. The views across the lake were better than they had any right to be. I barely slept and never once wanted to.

I think the build week is the secret. When you've carried the pallets, you don't walk in as a guest. You walk in as someone who helped make the place, and everyone you meet feels a little like family.

Keeping these.

Monday morning I packed up and pointed the trailer north. Same same, but different. I'll be back.