I went to a festival once. It was a three-day event. The weather was delicious, the backdrop lush and friendly, the tent… sufficient, the music mind-blowing.
The following year I missed out on tickets. I cursed my indecision. How many times did my finger hover over the Buy Now icon on the festival homepage? While my FOMO reared it’s ugly head, it was a whole different story at the festival. A wash out. Three days of torrential rain. Through the Facebook updates of the survivors, the music fans, the musicians, I heard stories of a brutal sonic apocalypse.
Of the perks of being the Music Editor, the best by far is that I can now live vicariously through the experiences of Critic’s wonderful contributors. I never need a tent, and I never have to leave the house.
This week, Henry Francis reports on Feastock. It’s a backyard BBQ Woodstock, located in the wop wops of Pine Hill. Ihlara McIndoe attends an epic sold-out concert at the Dunedin Town Hall, led by Dunedin graduate and award winning bass, Jonathon Lemalu. And Grimm Selfie surfs the net all the way to Coachella.