Now that I’ve had a while to collect myself after the Do-Lab’s dream world – Lightning in a Bottle – arguably the best time of my life, here are my top five moments from the festival:
Desert Hearts: If you’ve never heard of Desert Hearts before, you’re missing out. This San Diego-based touring house team started by Lee Reynolds, Porky, Marbs, and Mikey Lion threw a Lightning in a Bottle kick-off party at the Lakeside stage. People flocked to the boat ramp of Lake San Antonio for a bumping mix of funk, house, and techno. For 6 hours, our crew held down the front of the crowd, chatting with Lee about pursuing our dreams and how grateful we were to his contribution to Desert Hearts and dancing the house two step – right foot, right foot, left, left and wobble side to side. Totems that read things like “Don’t treat people like instant noodls” and “Chico State Class of 2018” and some shaped like carrots and lollipops bobbed up and down with the infectious beat as the sun went down. There were few faces without huge smiles, and no one wanted to leave after the sets ended.
80s Prom at Favela: Favela is the smaller house stage at Lightning in a Bottle, where you can count on wubs being played from noon till almost sunrise. On Thursday night, my friends and I wandered around the festival in ginormous fur coats, watching all the volunteers still setting up the larger stages. As we crossed the bridge towards the lit up ring of tree-houses, we joined the high-five train, a LiB tradition that is often changed to the fist bump, high pinky, or occasional booty tap with a totem. Pulsing house grew in our ears as we marveled at the absolutely giant disco balls hanging from the tree centered in Favela. All around us, festivalgoers shimmied in makeshift treehouses, dressed in full length furs and LED lingerie and fantastic hats. As 80s hits like ‘Don’t You Want Me’ came on, we danced to the house music and shouted the lyrics. The giant disco balls twirled, spinning the lights from the stage and illuminating pinpricks of people’s faces.
Jhene Aiko / NAO: Let me just start by saying you haven’t LiB’ed until you’ve seen four grown men in tears over a performance. At Beacon, the Do-Lab stage from Coachella, hundreds of people gathered in complete silence, cuddling up to each other in the brisk night to watch Jhene Aiko’s performance. It started off with a powerful spoken word and tribal dance performance, then applause rumbled as the sativa queen herself glided on stage to the thick smoke produced by the fog machines flanking the stage. In between performing a mix of older and newer songs, she paused with the audience to reflect on the beauty and kindness that surrounded us at that very moment. Her tinkling laugh followed her apology for not being the typical bass-heavy act at LiB, and she explained how much she had wanted to play at this festival since she started attending. Her set was absolutely ethereal, after as we slid out of Beacon, we savored the leftover honey left in the air from her voice. Cruising along the embankment on the north side of the hill Beacon was on, I heard the unmistakable pipes of NAO shaking Lightning stage. We sat down for a bit on the bank and took in the whole scene – the lights from the stage on the left, the lasers from the furthest stage, and the ferris wheel to the right. Contentment swelled in my heart as NAO played one of my favorite songs – “Apple Cherry.”
The Metal House: One night, my friend and I were in a bit of a funk and were joking about finding a boxing arena. To our surprise, we heard loud angry music tearing through a ramshackle house tucked away behind the Woogie Stage. Grafitti masked the uneven planks that served as walls, and heavy thuds on floorboards were our invitation to walk up to the wraparound porch. The door burst open, and men with thicker eyeliner than Johnny Depp (Pirates of the Caribbean era) stumbled out as we were ushered in. Once inside, we were offered paper to tear apart while metal music conducted a twitchy charade of characters throughout the house. To earn a sticker, we had to throw and kick a stool, then explore the rest of the house. We saw a room mirrored after the stuffed animal machines often found in Chuckie-Cheeses; stuffed animals littered the floor in various stages of disarray and an old TV played VHS static.
The California Honey Drops: While LiB is usually regarded as EDM-heavy, there are a couple stages that only play live music. The Grand Artique is one of them – modeled after an old western movie complete with a two-story bar, general store, and folk music galore. As the sun sleepily lay its rays down on us, we reveled in the live instruments and dancers as the California Honeydrops played tunes to surround the audience in an aura of nostalgia and jigginess. I was suddenly reminded of those natural honey cough drops that my third-grade teacher would procure from Native American trading posts, savoring the sweetness of the memories.
Honorable mentions –
The White Library, a structure painted white, filled with books and markers, was covered in quotes from artists and attendees alike. Across the walls were hellos to strangers, goodbyes to loved ones, and advice to the lost ones. One of my favorite quotes I found outlined by a windowpane in chicken scratch handwriting – “Your wound may not be your fault, but your healing is your responsibility.” I lingered there, watching people’s reactions to quotes.
Meditation Mountain, the highest point in the festival, was the site of a couple of beautiful moments for me. A man playing a handpan, a rare melodic instrument shaped a little like a tortoise shell, guided me through my first morning’s meditation. A man spun a reggaeton remix of Thriller as our ragtag gang paraded down to the lake. I shared my last sunset there with a very dear friend, and the whole mountain of people smiled, cried, and clapped as the sun went down.
Sound Baths, provided right at the festival entrance, were conducted under a tree, surrounded by gongs. Roughly 75 people lay within the radius of the gongs on mismatched carpets, a sea of chests breathing deeply and evenly. It was so peaceful to have my thoughts guided by waves of sound, and I really felt my happiness hover in my chest and hum as the padded sticks struck each gong.
Washing dishes for food – One morning, I woke in my friend’s tent on the other side of the festival with an unmistakable rumbling in my stomach and empty pockets (my phone and wallet were at my tent). I remembered seeing a sign on the fried rice tent that said “Wash dishes for your meal.” So I headed over to their tent, walked around to the back, introduced myself, and said I wanted to wash some dishes. Without skipping a beat, they walked me over to the huge stack of red bowls customers would return after they were done eating and explained the four different vats of water in various stages of heat and bubbles. The hour that followed it was one of the most peaceful hours of my life – I got into a rhythm, humming along to the John Mayer tunes that played through their speakers, chatting with Bryce (my drying counterpart) about how he travels to different festivals, and a nice man from Puerto Vallarta would place pieces of melons and oranges into my wrinkly hands with long tongs. After about an hour, they tapped me on the shoulder and I turned to see the most beautiful breakfast bowl I will ever see. Cheese-covered mini tortillas crowned by seasoned potato chunks, tomatoes, cilantro, and pico de gallo were topped by thick slices of avocado and crispy bacon. My stomach growled its approval, and I settled into a chair to eat, placing a mug of hot coffee on a cooler. My head swiveled around, watching all the people cooking and shimmying and smiling. Their happiness was contagious, and I walked out of the fried rice tent with a full stomach and an even fuller heart.
Lightning in a Bottle was my first real music festival, and what an excellent choice. Whether you are a veteran festival goer or a first-timer, this is arguably one of the friendliest festivals anywhere. It really feels like a family; if you lose your friends in the crowd, you’ll make new ones in your vicinity. Dance your butt off, keep your eyes (especially your third one) and your heart open, and ask questions. You’ll come home with a sore body, a residual smile, and many new friends.
