I'd be lying if I said I wasn't looking forward to the release of the Coachella lineup as early as...well, May 1st, 2007, which is right after last year's Coachella. But can you blame me? I mean, I was still high after seeing back to back sets with Andrew Bird, Arcade Fire, Girl Talk, LCD Soundsystem, and The Rapture, in that order. I had no reason to suspect that the '08 lineup wouldn't be all that '07 was, and more. I even waxed nostalgic about it here. So imagine my crushing disappointment when I saw this year's lineup. Is it terrible? No. It's not terrible. But is it truly great? Nope. Worth even just a day pass? Not that, either. Most of the acts I'd be into seeing, I've already seen this year in LA or elsewhere, thus, the $100-per-day price tag was absolutely not justified.
I think I wallowed in self-pity for about five minutes (during which Ty and Jess experienced the requisite wailing and gnashing of teeth generally associated with Laurel D and The Crushing Disappointment) before Tyler and I got to talking and realized something:
We could do our own Coachella. I'll be the first to stand on a rooftop and crow about the myriad talents of my humble group of friends, and the thought of rounding up 5-10 of my nearest and dearest to make music for an entire weekend was just too good to pass up. After trying out a few iterations of the Coachella title (Coachemite if we were to caravan to Yosemite, eventually settling on Coachella Maria in honor of our final destination, Santa Maria), we finally settled on the overarching title of the event: Fauxchella. [Thanks, Jeff.]
April 18 - 20, 2008: Fauxchella
The acts mentioned are my talented friends, and what I thought would be a small group of 5-10 enthusiasts, turned into a regular event as 20 of us descended upon Jess's house in the Central Coast to make music history.
Now, I'm a verbose person. I can generally spin a 1,000-word narrative out of a moment lasting mere minutes in real-time, so those who know me well can understand the significance when I say: There are hardly words.
The weekend exceeded any expectation I may have had, and all I can really say is: Damn. I am privileged to know some incredible people. Friday night was a page ripped right out of The Traveling Wilburys songbook as every single one of the talented (have I said that word enough? No? Talented. TALENTED!) musicmakers gathered in the garage, to a cacophonous din of instruments, yelps, ooohs, ahhhs, percussion, and the kind of acoustics only a garage can have. Saturday we spent the day working on music, breaking occasionally to play wiffle ball.
Y-Chrome and the Ghosties
I and the rest of the ladies in attendance spent most of Saturday working on a choral interpretation of Coldplay, followed by, I kid you not, a gospel choir song. J called on her inimitable skills from her year spent in Tennessee and brought the soul-stomping FURY to our white asses. The results were laced with the kind of "oooOOooohs" and "UH-huhhhhs" that make Beyonce annoying, but were nevertheless fitting. I discovered that I, in fact, have no soul.
Ah, well. We can't all be Aretha, right?
The night ended with the dance party to end all dance parties, which was, I'm sorry to report, VIDEOTAPED. Another discovery I made the following morning while viewing the green-tinted night-vision spectacle is that of my formidable repertoire of exactly 5 dance moves, 3 of them are bad decisions.
Speaking of which, eventually we'll have video AND audio of the weekend, so hang tight and check back soon for evidence that 1) My friends are the most talented friends of all the friends, 2) I have no soul, and 3) there are 3 dance moves that are, in fact, a grave mistake if ever executed in public.
Here is where I bring both the rock and the roll by posing with my birthday
present from all my friends, WHO ARE TALENTED (talented! talented!)