Music Festival Amateur Hour

grumpette.jpgMusic festivals used to be for fanatics. Blues fans, bebop fans, rockabilly fans, reggae fans, metal fans, mambo fans and, of course, Deadheads—no matter the genre, like-minded folk would meet and revel in their favorite music once a year. Today, there are hundreds of annual festivals, all seemingly geared more toward delivering a demographic to a sponsor than music to an audience. To draw the maximum number of eyeballs and wallets, organizers need the widest range of the biggest names they can get—which is why you have no interest in 50 percent of the bands and actively despise at least another 10 percent. So there you are, penned in for hours in a place where there’s nowhere to sit and a Budweiser costs 10 bucks. Which, of course, doesn’t bother most of today’s festivalgoers: They’re here for the scene, not the sounds. Here to show off their Vice-approved festival ensembles, to tweet and Instagram and Facebook and hold a big ol’ iPhone 6 in front of your face to record videos they will never watch … of the one band you actually came here to see.

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