COLUMN: Coachella

I write this fully self-aware that I'm heading dangerously into fuddy-duddy territory.

I've never had respect for anyone who mocks younger generations simply because they don't like the same things. Anytime a fad comes along, there's always some out-of-touch elder statesman waiting in the wings to tear it to shreds. The other day, I was reading a review of the excellent debut album from the band Wet Leg. Sure enough, in the comments was a guy asking, "What happened to good music like Nirvana?" Well, in Nirvana's day, there were people saying, "What happened to good music like Motley Crue?" In Motley Crue's era, there were people saying, "What happened to good music like Led Zeppelin?"

It's a never-ending chain. In 1791, I bet there were people saying Mozart was terrible noise and wondering aloud what happened to good music like Bach.

Not me. I vowed long ago to forever be hip, accepting, and always appreciative of whatever new trends might come along. I may be about to eat those words.

This past weekend, I watched several hours of the livestream from California's annual Coachella Valley Music and Arts Festival. For years now, Coachella has been the gold standard of music festivals, drawing in fans and artists from across the globe. As a musician, just getting asked to play Coachella is a high honor -- it means you're the coolest of the cool, critically lauded and unconditionally loved by the most discerning of music fans.

Coachella was streaming live on Youtube all last weekend -- and out of curiosity, boredom, and more than a little bit of jealousy because one of my friends had flown out to attend, I tuned in. I can now officially say with all certainty: I don't understand today's kids.

Over the years, Coachella has seen amazing moments. Over 2400 different artists have graced the Coachella stage since 1999. It's where bands like Arcade Fire and the White Stripes became megastars. It's where Beyonce stole the show in 2018. It's where Daft Punk became the kings of dance. Everyone from Prince to Paul McCartney has taken the Coachella stage at some point. I watched hours of coverage this weekend -- and if an amazing moment happened, I must've been blinking.

I was hoping for musical brilliance. Instead, I got mostly lip-syncing and twerking. One of the most hyped acts on this year's line-up was Brazilian pop icon Anitta. In Latin America, she's an icon and one of the most influential celebrities in the world. She wasn't even trying to hide her pre-recorded vocals. At times, she'd drop the microphone completely away from her face, but the vocals just kept right on going.

On another stage, Kim Petras was essentially singing pornography aloud. On the third stage, some mumble rapper was telling the world what he thought about police (spoiler: he's not a fan.) Memorable tunes were few and far between. It was mostly just an assortment of beautiful people dancing around on autopilot to backing tracks, devoid of originality and enthusiasm.

The pinnacle of it all was an act called Emo Night, a pair of L.A. club promoters known for their throwback dance parties. For their stage set, that's exactly what they did. They'd play someone else's record, dance around, and then get on the mic and tell the crowd "we're bad DJs" before pressing play on another record. Seriously? This is entertainment nowadays? I'm pretty sure even bottom-line Coachella tickets cost over $400. I can stay home and press play on my own stereo for a lot less money -- AND I'd do a better job at it.

It wasn't all bad. Filipino singer/songwriter Beabadoobee played a set so good I promptly downloaded her entire discography. Arcade Fire made an unannounced appearance that proved they're still one of the greatest live acts around. Fred Again was the breakout star of the dance tent. And Saturday night was headlined by Billie Eilish, who really is the best popstar in the world right now.

Everything hit home when Eilish brought out surprise guest Damon Albarn mid-set. Albarn's a hero from MY era, who spent the 90s fronting the seminal Britpop band Blur. My friends and I once chased Blur back to their hotel just to get autographs and (sadly no pun intended) blurry pics. When Albarn jumped onstage, it happened. Without even thinking, I said out loud, "Man, what happened to good music like Blur?" 

I broke my solemn vow. Worse yet, the livestream also had a chat window, where thousands of music fans were commenting in real time. I looked in the chat, expecting to see dozens of people going, "Oh, wow, Damon Albarn! Cool!!" Instead, I saw 20 comments along the lines of: "Who's the old dude?" "Wow, is that Billie's DAD?" "This old guy sucks."

They may as well have been talking about ME. I fear the pop culture zeitgeist may have set sail and left me ashore. But if this festival is the kind of stuff I'm missing out on, I might be better off on dry land. Maybe I'm becoming one of those old fuddy-duddies forever stuck in their bygone musical era, but I guess that's fine. My era has a way better soundtrack.