My right eye twitched with a combination of sleep deprivation and anxiety as I pulled into the Manchester, Tenn. farm to set up camp for the 2016 edition of Bonnaroo. I'd only learned I'd be making the fabled pilgrimage from Tampa to Tennessee three days previous and had to scramble to get shifts covered at work and figure out how I was going to get there. But I knew I couldn’t pass on the opportunity to attend the third largest annual music festival in the U.S., though because of my adventure's last minute nature, I would have to embark on it alone.
This year marked Bonnaroo's 15th anniversary and much has changed since the 2012 debut, from a mere $100 a ticket and 70k attendees in its inaugural year, to the $350 admission price for each of the near 100k that landed here in 2016. With some of the country's biggest bands headlining every year, it's no wonder Bonnaroo has become one of the most popular festivals in the world.
I made the nine-and-a-half-hour drive through most of Friday, and despite missing Thursday night's kick-off, I was due to arrive with plenty of time to some great bands Friday night.
Bonnaroo's lay-out is unique; the camping area makes a “U” shape around the gated concert area, which is located at its heart. This section of the grounds, dubbed “Centeroo,” is where the near-dozen stages are located and its entrance is fairly easy to find, located right at the base of a giant tower with a spinning disco ball atop and Bonnaroo’s LED-lit Ferris wheel.
The vast camping area immediately immerses you into the world of Bonnaroo. Tents and cars stretch as far as the eye can see, in all directions, some sites adorned with tapestries and lights, others flying large flags overhead that served as landmarks in this sea of canvas and nylon. Every car entering the campgrounds got a quick spot check by Bonnaroo staff, and if it raised any suspicions, moved on to a sheriff for further searching. Nonetheless, plenty of illicit goods found their way into the fest.
After I scouted a good place to plop my tent and unpacked, I realized I'd made a terrible mistake: I brought the tent itself, but had forgotten the cover that keeps the top waterproof. Now all the world could look into my tent and I could look out at everyone looking in, too. Not ideal lodging, but at least the forecast didn’t call for rain.
The over-long set-up caused me to miss the first artist I'd planned to see, Vince Staples. So I took it as an opportunity to get as close to the front as possible for my next planned concert, Tyler, the Creator.
After receiving my pat down and scanning my RFID enabled wristband, I walked into what looked like a magical, hippie wonderland. One of my first sights at Centeroo was Snake & Jake’s Christmas Club Barn, a barn-turned-bar decked out in excessive Christmas lights and decorations (including powerful artificial snow blowers).
It wasn't always easy to find the stages you're supposed to be at during Bonnaroo because of the amusing yet confusing names: “Which Stage,” “What Stage,” “This Tent," “That Tent,” “The Other Tent.” This caused conversations, like:
–“Is this the This Tent or the That Tent?”
–“This is the That Tent, that is the This Tent. Then that's The Other Tent.”
After finally finding the This Tent (yes, that conversation was mine), I walked over to the pit, flashed my baby blue media band, then made my way past the security guards and took my spot among my fellow reporters.
One of few rappers on this year's Bonnaroo bill, Tyler greeted the excited crowd with a hearty “God y’all are white!” After briefly scanning the people around me, I realized he wasn’t wrong. He then piped up, “I only have 50 minutes up here so I think I’m just going to jump around and scream for a while.” And he did.
After his set, I tried heading to the What Stage to catch Brooklyn electro rock band LCD Soundsystem but I got lost again trying to find the right stage, so I decided to meander around the grounds and get more familiar with the layout, jumping from stage to stage and catching bits of EDM and light rock along the way.
I only explored what ended up being a rather small section of the grounds before returning to my tent and grabbing a bite, venturing over to my neighbors campsite to enjoy some camraderie with my fellow hippie friends and get in the right mindset for the late night performance from Australian psychedelic rock band, Tame Impala.
Tame Impala knows how to get trippy, from the heady waves of distortion in their music to their mind-expansive videos to the brilliant use of color in their live aesthetics. I felt as though my mind was melting as I was drawn closer and closer to the stage amid throngs of equally entranced, swaying bodies.
Many fest goers were holding a “totem,” tall decorated poles that could be waved in the air and serve as a beacon to friends engulfed by the tremendous crowd of people, an easy way to keep track of everyone in your group. I saw totems with light up teddy bears, a 15' fishing pole replete with paper mache fish, slogan signs, and a largescale print of the great Hunter S. Thompson.
As Friday night faded away into Saturday morning, people started gravitated to the incredibly colorful and loud “Kalliope” stage, which blared EDM and was loaded with 70,000-watts of bass, cryogenics, lasers, fog machines, serial beams and four large flame throwers. The DJ performed on the second level of the stage while women gyrated seductively below. It was a full-on rave in the heart of the woods of Tennessee. Beams of light shot through fog that poured over head, making it appear like a vibrant roof full of moving, liquid designs. Glowsticks and bottled water were the favored accessories amid this writhing mass of dancers and no one seemed to have a care in the world, so caught up in the ecstasy of the moment.
I made my exit around 6 AM with intentions of sleeping. That didn't happen, however.
Eyes half-shut and vision blurry with fatigue, I was brought back to conscious by the dull cock-a-doodle-doo of dubstep piping over the hill. With the moisture dampening both my pillow and sleeping bag from an early morning rain, I justified skipping sleep with relative ease.
After exploring the campsite's barn-shaped coffee shop (Grind), I returned to check out the massive market place. Rows and rows of vendor tents hawked anything from hippie dresses and incense, to tapestries, crystals, djembes and tee-shirts. I purchased a flowing, fairy dress for my girlfriend, Kaylee, then wandered into theBroo’ers Festival beer tent, which featured tastes by 25 different craft breweries from all over the country.
Next up was the Farm’s incredible art installations. Near the marketplace, two earthy hands reached from under the ground and held large globes that read “Planet Roo.” A trippy, mushroom shaped splash pad located in the heart of Centeroo is a fountain that's repainted by a different artist each year. A giant metal pig named Henri that occasionally shoots violent gouts of steam serves as the rotisserie oven for a local stand ham stand, Hamageddoon. There's other incredible attractions such as the giant waterslide and the Clean Vibes trading post, where you could trade recyclable trash collected during your stay for actual Bonnaroo merchandise.
I soon ventured over to Planet Roo, which is dedicated to positive energy and spiritual health, and passed a meditation class led from a small, solar powered stage as I headed into a circular building in its center. As I entered, I was greeted by a lady in all black who held tubes of Henna tattoo ink. “It’s a Henna party!” she said. She gave me a tube and told me the event ended in 5 minutes. Frantic, I coated my right hand in the thick paste, hurriedly drawing tribal-style lines and designs.
The lack of sleep, the 100 degree weather, the unrelenting dance music that was always pounding in the background or some combination of the three had caused a raging headache that spurred me to hit the medical tent, where I got a non-asprin and swallowed it down at a sink near the Rain-For-Rent shower pods. I went back to my tent, donned some baggy harem pants, and fell into a doze on my still wet sleeping bag. I got in a good four hours, which ended up being a much-needed boost to continue the rest of the day.
Back at Centeroo, I made a beeline to the small tent with its small, silent dance floor and busy DJ booth, home to the festival’s famed “Silent Disco.” Besides music drifting in from stages nearby, you didn't hear a peep here; everyone is handed headphones as they walk in and the DJ spins music that's piped live through these headphones. Despite its queer quiet, this is where I saw some of the boldest dance moves of the weekend.
Macklemore & Ryan Lewis was an obvious disappointment, but sadly, an even bigger disappointment than I had expected. God obviously wasn't feeling it, either, because he sent a fucking thunderstorm storm, essentially telling Mack to get his awkward ass off the stage. (I hate the dude.)
Just my luck it rained twice in one weekend at the only festival I've attended without a waterproof tent. Through its open top, I could see groups adjacent to me huddling together in their (dry) tents and pounding down booze together like it was New Years on Y2K as rain pounded the festival grounds. I sat in my tent alone, getting drenched by the warmest rain I’d ever felt in my life. Sounds of wild partying all throughout the camp continued as the sky erupted with light. Eventually, the clouds cleared, Bonnaroo made an official announcement that the festival was back on, and the entire place seemed to erupted in cheers. Since all the campers flooded to the gates at once, the pat down was momentarily suspended, adding a nice wild card element to the night.
Each of the artists cut off by the storm were allowed to finish their sets, but I didn't make the mistake of catching Macklemore twice so I went to Ellie Golding instead. To my surprise, she wasn’t as heavily electronic in a live setting as her radio hits imply. Moreover, she's a talented songstress with a great voice, well-written pop songs about life experiences and emotions, and a much-needed pallet cleanser after Macklemore. I left early, however, and got a good spot for Pearl Jam, which put on an amazing show and an overall incredible concert experience to have as a music fan.
Afterwards, I intended to make brief stops to see Sir The Baptist and then Adventure Club but was once more lured to the Kalliope stage by colorful lights and thumping beats. A giant car sat next to it, covered with strip lights and bumping with hydraulics. Girls with fog cannons danced on the stage and spun light up staffs to the spirited music. I watched as ravers shuffled and ground to the dance music sounds blaring directly into their faces.
After staring at lights and fire for too long, I made my sleepy way back to my tent, drank something with caffeine, then journeyed back out to Centeroo to watch some more shows. I remember unzipping the tent at 4 am, but the next thing I knew it was 7 a.m. and all the concerts were over for the night.
Exhausted and dazed, I stumbled to the Grind for some coffee and then lay in a hammock in the Grove. “Fuck,” I thought to myself as I sipped my custom-blend brew, “I have to drive home in about two hours.” Because my trip was so last minute, I had to leave by 9 a.m., missing everything on Sunday.
I reflected back on my first Bonnaroo experience on the long journey home. There were rough patches, granted, but I still managed to have a life changing time. So much sharing, so much caring, and so much love all in one place; it just makes you want to be a better person in your day-to-day life.
My final takeaway: Bonnaroo actually is, indeed, as magical as people say, but often in ways you don't expect. I know now how to better prepare for Bonnaroo and what to expect, because I'm sure as hell coming back every year I can from now on.
Special thanks to Kaylee LoPresto for making this possible.
TL;DR: Sweaty hippies enjoy love fest/music jamboree in woods. Good times.
This article appears in Jun 2-8, 2016.