It is three in the afternoon and my palms are sweating
against the steering wheel. Since
crossing the mountains, the temperature has only increased steadily. I have been waiting with my passenger for
over an hour in a seemingly endless line to arrive at our destination. The line inches forward, thousands of
attendees piled into thousands of vehicles wait before and behind us. This is the beginning of the mass bonding
experience we are about to undergo. At
this point, the 315 dollar price ticket I paid for the festival seems like a
gross overcharge. Little did I realize
that, in retrospect, the culminating four day event would be well worth the
hundreds spent and more.
The first obvious aspect to leave attendees awestruck was the view. The enormous stage, positioned precariously on the face of the cliff overlooking the Gorge. Expanding and twisting for miles, it is a sight to behold. Even after darkness falls, there is a feeling of immensity, of vastness, that lingers, making the spectacle on stage even more epic.
The first night, for us, held performances by STRFKR, Explosions in the Sky, and Pretty Lights. STRFKR took the stage first, playing in the Banana Shack, the giant tent that was home to the majority of the electronica performances. With strobes flashing and giant screens flashing flowing warping visuals of neon color, the crowd, comprised mostly of heavily inebriated individuals, was transfixed and transformed into a single mass of movement. The night calmed down as we meandered across the path to attend Explosions in the Sky at the Bigfoot stage, the second largest stage at the festival. The ambient rock that ebbed and flowed from the stage, accompanied by an equally great visual light and fireworks, was universally impressive. Not just in the quality of the music, but the emotion it imparted upon the crowd. It flowed over the barriers of culture and language to touch everyone attending. Even this, however, paled in comparison to the headliner of that night, Pretty Lights. Upon the immense Sasquatch stage, a single individual choreographed a show that ventured to turn the entire crowd, several thousand at least, into an extension of his stage. Stage lighting, strobes and colored flood lamps illuminated the roiling, boiling, sea of people that was the audience. From the beginning of the show, the audience took the show into their own hands. With each drop of the bass, thousands upon thousands of glowsticks were thrown into the air to rain down all around, again and again. After the show concluded, the party did not, into the early morning people raged, elated, drunk, and undoubtedly under the influence of various other substances.
The next day the campsites were abuzz, many people recovering from the intoxicated stupors they had survived the night before. Many abided by the mantra, there are two ways to avoid a hang over: Don’t drink, or don’t stop. And so the inebriation resumed early in the morning, and would carry on through the rest of the weekend. It was a time and place to disregard all inhibitions. The second night was another immense show, culminating with the performance of Jack White, a man who has reincarnated himself in many a musical fashion: The White Stripes and the Raconteurs, amongst many others. I was struck with a thought, during his set, that he could truly be considered a Rock Star, in the most hardcore sense of a grungy, possibly drug addled individual, that lives and breathes music. Starkly contrasting many of the prima donnas that take the stage these days claiming rock star fame. He was brought to life under the glow of teal lights.
The third day was spent wandering, alone, walking and observing. Taking in the surroundings, the beauty, the people, who were almost as entertaining to watch as the shows themselves. That afternoon and evening, such acts as Beirut and Bon Iver took stage.
The fourth and final night, however, was another night of extraordinary performances. Tenacious D took stage to be greeted by a wild crowd, yelling and screaming approval and excitement. They did not disappoint. The majority of the audience, myself included, sang along to timeless classics such as Tribute, Fuck Her Gently, and Double Team, while behind the duo stood a giant phallus painted as a phoenix. And the end of the show, it lowered its head and ejaculated confetti across the front few rows of attendees. It was a phenomenal performance, followed up by the equally spectacular Beck. No better set of bands on the ballot for Sasquatch 2012 could have culminated the event.
Sasquatch was an intense event, from which I had no preconception of what to expect, but left having had a more spectacular experience than I ever would have expected. The hundreds of dollars sacrificed were worth it twice, three times, over. The only thing I can admit to being disappointed about is having to wait a whole year before I can experience it again.
The first obvious aspect to leave attendees awestruck was the view. The enormous stage, positioned precariously on the face of the cliff overlooking the Gorge. Expanding and twisting for miles, it is a sight to behold. Even after darkness falls, there is a feeling of immensity, of vastness, that lingers, making the spectacle on stage even more epic.
The first night, for us, held performances by STRFKR, Explosions in the Sky, and Pretty Lights. STRFKR took the stage first, playing in the Banana Shack, the giant tent that was home to the majority of the electronica performances. With strobes flashing and giant screens flashing flowing warping visuals of neon color, the crowd, comprised mostly of heavily inebriated individuals, was transfixed and transformed into a single mass of movement. The night calmed down as we meandered across the path to attend Explosions in the Sky at the Bigfoot stage, the second largest stage at the festival. The ambient rock that ebbed and flowed from the stage, accompanied by an equally great visual light and fireworks, was universally impressive. Not just in the quality of the music, but the emotion it imparted upon the crowd. It flowed over the barriers of culture and language to touch everyone attending. Even this, however, paled in comparison to the headliner of that night, Pretty Lights. Upon the immense Sasquatch stage, a single individual choreographed a show that ventured to turn the entire crowd, several thousand at least, into an extension of his stage. Stage lighting, strobes and colored flood lamps illuminated the roiling, boiling, sea of people that was the audience. From the beginning of the show, the audience took the show into their own hands. With each drop of the bass, thousands upon thousands of glowsticks were thrown into the air to rain down all around, again and again. After the show concluded, the party did not, into the early morning people raged, elated, drunk, and undoubtedly under the influence of various other substances.
The next day the campsites were abuzz, many people recovering from the intoxicated stupors they had survived the night before. Many abided by the mantra, there are two ways to avoid a hang over: Don’t drink, or don’t stop. And so the inebriation resumed early in the morning, and would carry on through the rest of the weekend. It was a time and place to disregard all inhibitions. The second night was another immense show, culminating with the performance of Jack White, a man who has reincarnated himself in many a musical fashion: The White Stripes and the Raconteurs, amongst many others. I was struck with a thought, during his set, that he could truly be considered a Rock Star, in the most hardcore sense of a grungy, possibly drug addled individual, that lives and breathes music. Starkly contrasting many of the prima donnas that take the stage these days claiming rock star fame. He was brought to life under the glow of teal lights.
The third day was spent wandering, alone, walking and observing. Taking in the surroundings, the beauty, the people, who were almost as entertaining to watch as the shows themselves. That afternoon and evening, such acts as Beirut and Bon Iver took stage.
The fourth and final night, however, was another night of extraordinary performances. Tenacious D took stage to be greeted by a wild crowd, yelling and screaming approval and excitement. They did not disappoint. The majority of the audience, myself included, sang along to timeless classics such as Tribute, Fuck Her Gently, and Double Team, while behind the duo stood a giant phallus painted as a phoenix. And the end of the show, it lowered its head and ejaculated confetti across the front few rows of attendees. It was a phenomenal performance, followed up by the equally spectacular Beck. No better set of bands on the ballot for Sasquatch 2012 could have culminated the event.
Sasquatch was an intense event, from which I had no preconception of what to expect, but left having had a more spectacular experience than I ever would have expected. The hundreds of dollars sacrificed were worth it twice, three times, over. The only thing I can admit to being disappointed about is having to wait a whole year before I can experience it again.
