Desert Daze 2018: No Lightning, No Glory

BEVERLY HILLS, CA – We were at a standstill. Tail lights blinded me as I stuck my torso out of the window to see how long the line of cars really was – it was really long, and it was moving very slowly. Pond played faintly in the background as lightning illuminated the sky every few minutes, and a slight drizzle blanketed my car.

Still, the anticipation of Desert Daze, a three-day music festival at Lake Perris, was enough to keep the spirits high. An hour passed, and the lightning became a little more frequent. A loud crackle boomed above us.

"I hope this isn't going to be a problem," my boyfriend said, motioning towards where we last saw lightning. Turns out, it was going to be a problem.

Two hours later, we were parked at our campsite, hastily throwing up a tent and EZ-Up in the rain, moving as fast as we could so we wouldn't miss Tame Impala, an Australian psychedelic rock band headlining the festival.

As we walked in, we caught the start of "Let it Happen," one of their catchiest songs, as the rain picked up – when the song dropped, confetti shot into the crowd making for a beautiful, whimsical scene of shimmer and mist, and the audience erupted.

The music abruptly stopped, and a staff member made their way onto the stage. The crowd was told to immediately exit the grounds and "find shelter" until the storm passed – promising Tame Impala would resume their set shortly. They never did.

We headed out of the festival, picking up the pace with each crackle of thunder and bolt of lightning. On our way back to the campsite, a stranger stopped us to talk. As we were chatting, more people joined the group, and we learned two of the guys were in a band that played Desert Daze the year before.

"Oh, which band?" I asked one of them. "King Gizz," he said casually.

My heart skipped a beat – I was talking to some of the band members of King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard, an Australian psychedelic rock band headlining Desert Daze the following night. As the lightning got closer, we decided to say goodbye to our new friends and shelter in the car as the festival crew suggested earlier.

Some festival goers were less than happy by Friday night, calling it a "train wreck of logistical nightmares and unfortunate weather patterns." Sure, it took hours to park and Tame Impala's set was cut short – but it was an adventure.

Greetings from @desert_daze 2018. So far, it’s been a trainwreck of logistical nightmares and unfortunate weather patterns. 3+ hour lines to park (missed 3 sets) and then Tame Impala cut short after 4 songs due to lightning storms.
— Greg Franklin (@kentuckychrome) October 13, 2018

By Saturday morning, the thunderstorm had passed and a comfortable fog was left, making for perfect (albeit muddy) music festival weather all day. We finally met our camping neighbors, who inevitably became our new best friends. They were: Hector, an Afghanistan war veteran, and his friend Gabe, who knew so much about music; Steve, a solo traveler from Canada who said "aboot" and "sorey" and was extremely nice, meeting every Canadian stereotype I know; and Kevin, a guy from L.A. who had a different pair of shiny leggings for every day of the festival.

Mercury Rev performed their album "Deserter's Songs" in its entirety on Saturday afternoon – frontman Jonathan Donahue (also from The Flaming Lips) was just as much of a singer as he was a modern dancer, acting like a puppeteer whose puppets were the instruments being played around him. I sat down to give my feet a break, and as I turned to my left, I saw an Australian cattle dog intently watching Mercury Rev as if it was his favorite band.

Shoegaze band Slowdive put on an unbelievably dreamy performance later that day, including their hits "Alison" and "Sugar for the Pill."

“So glad it’s not raining today,” vocalist Rachel Goswell said to the crowd. I couldn't have agreed more.

Early Sunday afternoon, musician and producer Steve Albini gave a Q&A. When confronted by a fan about his controversial musical past (including his band Rapeman), he said he's constantly learning how to be a better person, but when he was a teenager he couldn't care less.

"In a conversation about feminism, my job as a man is to listen and absorb the information," he told the fan.

When asked about his prolific production work, he quipped: “I genuinely don’t know how many albums I’ve made, but I can tell you it’s a s--t million.”

Later in the afternoon, Julia Holter coincidentally performed "Underneath the Moon" on the Moon Stage, pointing out the irony but also adding "This is a serious song."

That wasn't the only irony of Sunday – Earth, a mesmerizing minimalist band, performed right before Earthless, a high energy psychedelic rock band. Both are mainly instrumental, with completely different sounds and tempos.

While waiting for the final headliner, iconic shoegaze band My Bloody Valentine, we meandered the festival with our new camping friends.

"I've always wanted to go skinny dipping," Hector said, his face a little red from the handle of Fireball he was hiding under his denim jacket. The sun was long gone, the wind was crisp and the night cold, but we were nonetheless approaching the lake.

"I think I'm going to do it," he said. We all joked that he wouldn't. He asked us to turn around, and seconds later we hear water splashing behind us. We turned towards the lake and cheered for brave, cold Hector, but as he started exiting the lake, Gabe snatched his clothes from the beach and started to run.

Unabashedly, Hector ran after him butt-naked. I sat on the beach, watching the cat and mouse game unfold before me. Two grown men wrestling in the sand, one completely clothed and the other desperately wanting to be clothed.

Tears streamed down my face from laughter, my ab muscles were sore and my heart was happy. These four strangers made my festival experience something I'll never be able to forget, but that's the thing about Desert Daze – a curated festival brings like-minded people together, so it's easy to make "festival friends" you want to keep.

My Desert Daze wound down with My Bloody Valentine, a band so noisy, they came with their own warning. With my earplugs wedged firmly in place, I heard my favorite song "When You Sleep," and my weekend came to a close. We swapped information with our new friends, and said a sad goodbye filled with a lot of hugs. I'd like to think that without that lightning storm, the adventure wouldn't have been nearly as exciting.

Photos courtesy of Matthew Goulding