For years it was the festival organizer’s Higgs boson: how can we keep this swelling, sun-stroked mass of humanity and sound profitable while simultaneously converting it into a floating prison? Many said it couldn’t be done. But yesterday, the brains behind Coachella proved the doubters wrong and unveiled the existence of their God particle — the S.S. Coachella. For one shining week in December (over the course of two voyages), cash-enabled music fans can cruise the Caribbean enjoying headliners like Pulp, Girl Talk, Grimes, Yeasayer, Hot Chip, LCD Soundsystem’s James Murphy, Sleigh Bells, Cloud Nothings, and more without ever having to worry about being less than two minutes away from the nearest buffet.
Boarding passes start at $500 for a bunk in a four-person stateroom and climb all the way up to $1,500 for a “sunset veranda room.” Actually, that’s just the highest-priced room that can be automatically reserved online. According to The New York Times, a “sky suite” with a veranda runs for a cool $9,000. But seriously, do you think Gregg Gillis is gonna have the after party in your bullshit $850 oceanview stateroom? Dude don’t bang it ‘til the break of dawn for anything less than a veranda and a full-sized shitter. So if you’ve got money to blow and you aren’t already going on the Weezer cruise, the R. Kelly cruise, or this fucking atrocity, book yourself a cabin and shove off either on December 16 (three-day voyage to the Bahamas) or on December 19 (four-day voyage to Jamaica). Or you know, pay five bucks to see a basement show on dry land and bring your own beer. That’s what the rest of us will be doing.