Neighborly advice

Four lessons Vegoose could learn from Coachella

Spencer Patterson

Strange as it sounds, there's a real possibility more Southern Nevadans will make the four-hour trek to Indio this weekend than drove across town to Sam Boyd Stadium for Las Vegas' own big-name music festival, Vegoose, on Day 2 of its 2006 incarnation. Attendance that Sunday appeared to top out somewhere around 15,000—a sum that included plenty of out-of-towners (promoters have declined to divulge official numbers)—while Southern Nevada holds steady as a prime participant in Coachella, ranking among the event's most reliable markets beyond California's borders.

Regardless of the precise numerical breakdown, Vegoose organizers would be wise to take a good, long look at their neighbor to the west this weekend, assuming they intend to return to town for a third go-'round come Halloween. Because while Vegoose struggles to secure a foothold amid an increasingly crowded festival landscape, Coachella towers over most rivals, drawing crowds of 60,000 per day while maintaining both musical and social credibility.

An obvious distinction: Coachella is a seasoned veteran, inching closer to its 10th anniversary, while Vegoose remains a relative infant, with just two iterations under its belt. Coachella's origins were similarly rocky, so much so the event skipped a year (2000) and downsized from two days to one before blossoming into the commercial and critical success it has become. We suggest, however, that there's more to Coachella's sway than simple longevity, and that the folks behind Vegoose ought take note of those factors.

1. Happy campers. The tent-line dotting the grounds outside the Empire Polo Fields entry gates represents one significant difference between the two festivals: Coachella offers on-site camping while Vegoose does not. Vegoose was conceived as a partnership between its promoters and Las Vegas Events, which hoped to use the two-day gathering as a tool to boost hotel occupancy at a typically off time of year, and thus, opted against featuring a camping lot.

Vegoose attempts to market itself as something of a high-end music festival, primarily going after an adult audience willing to shell out significant dollars to sleep on the Strip. But ultimately, as last year's low Vegoose turnout and Coachella's regularly brimming crowds demonstrate, wealthy adults will never be an American music festival's primary draw. Toss in Vegoose's proclivity for jam bands, whose fan base typically relishes the thought of sleeping outdoors on the cheap, and the Vegas festival might need to reconsider its hard-line no-camping stance.

2. Electronic convergence. Anyone who's ever been to Coachella remembers that unrelenting thumping emanating from its farthest corner, the stage inside its largest, circus-sized music tent. That's where electronic dance acts—DJs and electronically oriented live acts—strut their stuff. More importantly, it's where tens of thousands of rabid dance enthusiasts strut their stuff, many never venturing outside the tent to view one second of the action on the other stages. Radiowho? Rage Against the what? If they've got Kraftwerk lined up on laptops or Carl Cox on the decks, they're in heaven.

Vegoose, surprisingly, has yet to acknowledge this festie phenomenon by implementing a dance tent of its own. Obviously, there's value in distinction, and Vegoose shouldn't change its basic musical philosophy simply to imitate a peer. But considering that Bonnaroo, the June festival in Tennessee put on by the same production companies as Vegoose (Superfly and AC Entertainment), has at least dabbled in electronic dance music in the past, we see no reason Vegoose shouldn't cash in on the eager throngs of electronic-loving music-seekers.

3. Bigger can be better. After spreading its music across four simultaneous stages in 2005, Vegoose pared down in 2006, with only three stages running at a time. Coachella, meanwhile, has five stages fired up almost every moment of every day, and that extra music makes a difference, not just in the number of acts but also in the feel of the festival. Last year at Vegoose, dead time abounded for those without fondness for, say, jam bands or hip-hop groups. At Coachella, a music fan can have little interest in rock itself and still be faced with innumerable conflicts.

We're not suggesting Vegoose simply bottom-pad to build a bigger lineup. But fans of a lesser-known DJ or rapper could plunk down for a festival ticket, only to discover half a dozen new favorite artists and leave determined to return the following year.

4. Where's the "Wow"? Vegoose's headliners have been Dave Matthews, Widespread Panic (twice) and Tom Petty, touring regulars who have all performed in Vegas with some frequency. Coachella has lured some of music's most reluctant American visitors, including Radiohead, Björk (twice) and Daft Punk. When Tool returned from hiatus last year, the band made Coachella its first stop. The Pixies played one of their earliest reunion sets at Coachella '04. And this year, Rage Against the Machine called Coachella—not the other way around—when the time came to return to the stage after a seven-year absence. "They called and said, ‘We're ready to go,'" Coachella promoter Paul Tollett says.

It's difficult to imagine similarly awe-inspiring acts phoning up Superfly and AC to beg to be included in Vegoose. Draw someone out of retirement. Bring something new to town. Stage an "event" within the overall event. Just don't place Widespread Panic in the headliner slot for a third time and wonder why a California festival might be out-drawing you in your very own town.

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