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The EDC Veteran
The road to EDC was paved with PLUR and pissed off drivers. The two-hour bottleneck getting to the Las Vegas Motor Speedway is still the worst, even after four years of attending. But blasting Malaa several decibels above what's considered safe helped. A lot.
My co-worker was a bit concerned about the parking situation. But I assured him, after 14 years in Las Vegas, EDC has nailed the logistics. We found our parking spot relatively smoothly, and as we started the trek up to the Speedway, I began to recognize all the usual suspects. The scantily clad rave girls twerking on the back of an EDC bike wagon. The fluffle of Playboy Bunnies and their satin-robed Hugh Hefner boyfriends. The mysterious man outside the festival gates who brought his parrot(s). Yep, definitely at EDC.
Inside, neon-clad festivalgoers appeared stark and raving, but never mad. Even on night two, when high-speed winds shut down several stages for a time, the fest’s most important headliners handled it well. They also had fire (probably too much fire, pyro guys) to keep them warm at Nomadsland and the new Ubuntu stage to keep them dancing. It warmed me to also see the End Overdose booth with a captive audience. For the last couple years, EDC has partnered with the organization to educate the masses on overdose prevention and how to administer Narcan.
Over at Neon Garden, which transformed this year into an open-air industrial warehouse, a back-to-back set by Ben Sterling and Rossi had everyone popping ass as disco balls hung down and glittery aerialists flew up. During a quaking recut of Sir-Mix-A-Lot’s “Baby Got Back,” I spotted a neon totem that declared “This is our happy place.” Indeed.
At the Bass Pod stage, Belgian maestro Apashe subjected me to one of the most cinematic sets of the evening. Waves of harsh dubstep—the kind that makes your nose tickle from the vibrations—washed over me. Dramatic visuals of angelic statues, operatic vocals and classical, feverish violins then obliterated me. At one point, the DJ dropped a resonant, dread-inducing horn sample akin to the one in Annihilation, and the hairs on my arm stood at attention.
Later that night, I caught Israeli psych-trance duo Vini Vici blowing the roof off the Quantum Valley tent. The vibrations rattled my brittle, festival-worn bones but I couldn’t stop dancing. The tent transformed into a sweaty hive mind as the duo commanded us with chilling basslines. A man at least 40 years my senior was having the time of his life. It made my night. –Amber Sampson
The First-timer
It didn’t take long to realize that my status as a three-time Lollapalooza attendee had done little to prepare me for my first EDC. After a bumper-to-bumper two-hour drive, I arrived to find hundreds of thousands of chanting, totem-bearing fans scattered across a record-setting 16 stages. Based on my initial vantage point from high up in the stands, they resembled the friendliest possible orc war party from Lord of the Rings—except they'd traded out their Mordor banners and swords for Mexican flags and glowstick nunchucks.
At any given moment, I could be sharing a walkway with a vaping Papa Smurf, Ash Ketchum or hundreds of brave women trooping it out in heels that could have easily moonlighted as stilts. The mood was overwhelmingly joyful, and you’d be hard-pressed to find anyone harboring any sort of hostility for their fellow ravers.
It was just after 10 p.m., and I’d already spent over an hour wandering the neon-laced Speedway, double fisting mini Slim Jims from the press lounge that I'd later scarf down for sustenance. I'd need it for the hulking Art Deco-inspired Kinetic Field stage, where Deorro invigorated the crowd with a bombastic set lasting just over an hour. As a nod to his roots, he even had a surprise appearance from the legendary regional Mexican band Los Tucanes de Tijuana and Mexican rapper Tito Double P—Peso Pluma’s cousin. “Cooler Than Me” star Mike Posner also joined Deorro and performed his hit track.
Between songs—as a giant, animatronic owl glared down with its own uniquely omniscient brand of resting bitch face—a couple clipped a small plastic flower sprout to my hat. We exchanged smiles, and I thanked them for initiating a noob like me into their ranks.
Next, I stumbled over to the Cosmic Meadow stage, where LA-based DJ RL Grime pummeled fans with blankets of bass-heavy trap sounds mixed with a sample from Ellie Goulding’s “Lights.” The ensuing beat drop—punctuated by an impressive pyrotechnic display—netted thunderous “oohs” and “aahs” from a colorful cast of concertgoers.
I felt ecstatic and slightly overwhelmed about the sheer number of options I had. There’s always a creeping curiosity over what could be happening at another stage around the corner. It’s still nearly impossible to escape at least some level of FOMO.
However, I quickly dropped that line of thinking and rejoined my fellow sprouts to see the EDC pioneer and Grammy Award-winning DJ Tiësto. FOMO is nothing compared to living in the moment. And EDC is the perfect place to forget the real world for a few hours and let the soundscapes consume you. Who really needs the sun when you have all this? –Tyler Schneider
English (US) ·