#MusicFestProblems

I used to marvel at music festival posters in faraway lands, wishing I could go to even just one. Seeing a frillion bands that I loved all in one place seemed like a sweet deal to me, and it frustrated me to no end that I couldn’t take part in them because of distance (and money, duh). The crowds always looked so amazing and happy, with everyone riding on that blissful high that live music can give you. If I felt this good watching one band that I loved, what more if I got to see a dozen of them in one go?

What I never really factored into my imagination, though, was the meaning of actually being in that crowd.

My aversion to music festivals began right after my first one, Laneway 2012 in Singapore. It was a pretty fun day, if I am honest with myself, marred with the memory of creaky bones, sore muscles, and the pain of fire blooming in my feet. You see, I’m the type of person who likes to stay in front by the stage when I’m watching a band or artist that’s important to me, so music festivals aren’t built for people like me — especially if these people also match the level of my physical endurance.

What people rarely say about music festivals is the actual physical toll it takes on your body. I know I’m making it sound like a brutal massacre of the highest degree, but hours of standing and waiting for Feist to play was the single moment in my life wherein I felt like my feet were going to just crumble and die.

Although I liked a majority of the acts in Laneway, there were sweet spots in between the 12-hour duration where I could sit down on the grass far away from the stage, resting and mustering up enough energy like in a video game, so I could fight my way through the front and be as close as possible to the action.

‘I’M TOO OLD FOR THIS SHIT’

After that night, I became a little disillusioned with music festivals in general and it felt a little bit like a scene from Lethal Weapon: “I’m too old for this shit.” I rarely ever found a lineup that was worth the agony. Until, of course, I found out that I was going to be missing the Explosions in the Sky show here in Manila. A pool of dread formed around me when it became clear that the only way I could see this beautiful band from Texas was if I went to a festival in Singapore. Again.

I flew in on the day of the festival itself, after finding relatively cheap flights proved to be challenging. In hindsight, I could have just missed out on the first couple of acts since they were playing last anyway. This festival, Camp Symmetry, proved to be a far worse experience for me since it had been raining and the ground was absolutely destroyed and muddy. There was no place dry to sit.

The wait to their set felt like the literal long walk to forever, especially since there were fewer acts with longer sets this time around, and I didn’t know or didn’t care for most of them. Some of us ended up sleeping on the damp hill. In the end, everything painful was worth the hour or so of magic that I thought I’d never get to see. Sort of.

I know this sounds like such a first world problem, but with all the festivals lined up in actual Manila this year, I felt a deep pool of panic gurgle within me, instead of the happy response usually linked with them. What if I actually wanted to go to one? Could I handle it?

I’ve been pickier with festivals lately, and nothing has caught my attention. Yet. In the meantime, I’ll be working on my goal to be healthier and fitter, hopefully in time for one of those festivals that I inadvertently can’t say “no” to. If you can’t beat them, join them, as they say. Just make sure your body can take it.

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Is your body ready for the festivals? Tweet the author @presidents.