Sunday Was a Bright Day Yesterday
Billed as an “extended mushroom jazz set,” legendary DJ Mark Farina dropped relentless funk for three hours at the Living Room on Sunday afternoon, after crushing a headlining set at the AMPhitheatre at 2AM the night before, earning full marks for stamina. He was smooth throughout, yet ever challenging the boundaries of taste for house music aficionados as per his well-developed aesthetic.
One of Portland’s finest, Lynx, stood out at the Grove with her electric guitar and beautiful, versatile voice. She said this was her fifth time at Shambhala, but her first solo set, singing and playing a kind of R&B/folk laced electronica accompanied by programmed beats. Drawing heavily from her 2013 album Light Up Your Lantern, her music dripped with intense emotion, but she brought levity with a stripped-down medley of Blackstreet’s “No Diggity” capped off with a little bit of Genuwine’s “Pony” at the end, and she comically broke down into a bad Australian accent during a bit of crowd banter. Considering how dusty it was on the farm, she displayed impressive vocal control, holding powerful high notes and drawing all the emotional nuance she could from every word. She ended her set in spectacular fashion by beatbox battling with Fungineers’ main man Kyrian, and held her own, which is no small feat in the most ideal of circumstances.
Photo credit: Leah Gair
Seattle duo Harrison Mills (a.k.a. Catacombkid) and Clayton Knight (a.k.a. BeachesBeaches), together known as ODESZA, packed the Grove with their maximal poptronica. Their set felt like a brighter version of Purity Ring, pushing the beats into a more psychedelic and summery realm, while their processed vocal treatments maintained a sense of nostalgic optimism and deep joy. Considering this set, as well as their recent buzz gigs at Osheaga, Northern Lights, Coachella, Stilldream, Decibel, and Lightning in a Bottle, one gets the feeling that their upcoming album for Counter Records, In Return, is going to do big things for them.
That was the end of my night, so I didn’t end up seeing a lot of music Sunday. Realistically, though, there is no way to see everything at Shambhala. If you watched every video taken and photo uploaded to the internet, you would only scratch the surface of what it’s like to actually be there, the limitless possibilities and uncontainable infinities that all seem to happen at once. Two people can go to this festival the same year and have completely different experiences, never seeing any of the same acts or people, yet the design of the grounds is ever welcoming and inclusive, myriad places to sit or stand so you’re out of the way but still part of the action. There’s always so much happening everywhere, stimulation for all sensory faculties: sights, sounds, feels, tastes, and, of course, the physical, synthetic, and natural methods for internal exploration and expansion. Given the first Shambhala back in 1998 only had 500 guests, the fact that the same grounds can now host 11,000 paying customers is a feat of design and planning.
The Thing of It All
If you’re a fan of people-watching, nothing compares to Shambhala. So many hugs and high-fives with strangers, so many beautiful people of all stripes and colors playing, sharing, and caring. I saw a gaggle of disco hippies dancing on stilts during Subvert, dominating their corner of the floor. Halfway through J. Phlip’s set, a gang of people with medieval air vortex cannons blasted the crowd with gusts of air. Others went raver fishing, tying candy or glow sticks to fishing lines and dangling them out in front of people. There was one guy who had a rubber snake dragging behind him everywhere he walked, which wiggled realistically enough to fool. And there’s nothing quite like being in the middle of a spontaneous chain reaction of woos that cascade across the entire festival campground and back.
During the day, most people hang out in the river or in the shade somewhere, trying to keep cool, but they invent new colors every night. These people put such incredible amounts of energy into their costumes and signs it can be difficult to focus on the music. Some of my favorite signs included a lit-up sign that said “womp” with the spiral “o” triggered every time the bass kicked, and another with “sooo wet” on one side and a raincloud blinking on the other. Always fun to see are the photobombing blown-up heads with intense stares of celebrities like Nicolas Cage, Ben Stiller, and Rob Ford (the latter of which was grabbed from the crowd and danced with by My Nu Leng during his set at the Pagoda on Friday).
Photo credit: Michael Benz
My camp used this year to explore a wizard-costume theme. Some of them were Comicon-worthy; mine was not. Planning last minute and lacking funds, I hastily grabbed by hooded TARDIS housecoat and a weird hand-like stick my girlfriend found on the beach in Penticton. The stick would become my wand, as I spent the weekend decorating it with random moop (matter out of place) I found while exploring the grounds. The more I found, the more magical it became. Yet, no matter how weird you try to get and think you’re being, there is always someone being weirder right around the corner.
You can sense it as soon as you’re through the gates. There’s an oddly calm feeling of being judged for the right reasons (like, “Are you OK?” or, “How can I help you have more fun”), rather than for the superficial, self-serving reasons we are usually judged in the day-to-day capitalist grind. It feels so good to have someone you recently met or don’t even know walk up and say how beautiful you look, without wanting anything more from you than a smile. Your exchange of pleasantries are marked with the nondenominational, “Happy Shambs,” as if it was a combination of Halloween and Christmas, and the mood is quite similar, only more open-minded and devoid of stifling corporate sponsorship.
Then there are all the little things. I saw Super Mario Bros. being played on a big screen by the Forest, within ear shot of a gong circle. One of the maintenance trucks had a moo siren, while a staff member on an ATV used a rubber ducky for a horn. There were many trading posts and tickle trunks littered across the camping area, functioning well with a take-something/leave-something honor system. The evolving graffiti in the portopotties, taken a step further by a camper van near one of the main roads that had a bunch of paint and brushes next to it, with a sign asking for all of our delicious creativity to be plastered all over it, and so it was. Great selection of food, from tacos and burgers to poutine and frozen yogurt. Wicked shopping in the Artisan Market, which included glow fur, steam punk jewelry, Bollis, graffiti hats, utility belts, warm stuff, footwear, sundries, and services like haircuts and face painting. The stages also had their own merch booths with dedicated swag, art galleries, and beverages dispensaries, and the Grove’s woodland dome saw workshops on yoga, meditation, nutrition, politics, and more (Moby himself hosted a talk on the subject of music as therapy). And there are long-standing traditions like the opening ceremony at the Grove, Rich-E-Rich closing down the Forest with hours of classic rock, funk, and R&B singles, or paying your respects to long-time resident Chewbacca. Anywhere, anytime could be the best thing ever.
How It’s Done
People are going to have sex and get wasted on whatever at music festivals. It’s a basic truth, but how festivals reacts to that truth has a dramatic effect on the mood and results. Reportedly, in July of 2014, a staggering 80 out of 8000 people (or 1 in 100) who attended Boonstock in Penticton, BC were hospitalized, and one died after their liquor license was denied, and patrons sought stimulation anywhere else they could find it, with little, if any, proactive harm reduction services in places. Squamish Valley Music Festival’s reaction to that shitshow was to add more beefcake security and undercover narcs, the kind of aggressive, judgmental surveillance that makes people shutdown and turn on each other, but Shambhala has always supported a sense of community and taking care of each other, a feeling that stems from the Bundschuh family, which owns the Salmo River Ranch and heads up the festival, down through all the layers of assembled family. Their communal obligation includes things like a sanctuary for people having bad trips, a sober camp and AA style meetings for those with substance abuse problems, and a women’s safe space. There were signs everywhere directing people to the ANKORS booth, which tested pills for quality and handed out free condoms, earplugs, and pamphlets packed with useful info on STDs, drugs, and so much more.
Photo credit: Shawn Fillion
Impressively, their notion of community doesn’t stop at the gates. Shambhala has donated hundreds of thousands of dollars to various causes in the area, ranging from education to healthcare, while its attendees dump millions of tourist dollars into the surrounding cities. This is why, even with its reputation and thousands more attendees than Boonstock, only seven people were transferred to the hospital this year. Sure, there are a lot of substances at Shambhala, and some people go over the edge, but in the six years I’ve attended this spectacle, it has rarely felt unsafe. They have enacted a ton of proactive measures over their 17 years to ensure that feeling of safety among the madness, and they have gone above and beyond in their quest to be sustainable and productive members of their community.
As I said at the beginning, it’s hard to not get personal about Shambhala. It’s a place where you have a good chance of meeting your new best friend, if you are open to it. The consistency of the lineup each year is one of its greatest strengths, a testament to the inclusive nature for everyone involved, from the ravers and Shambhassadors to the volunteers and artists. At least one couple got engaged at Shambhala 2014, and I camped with a couple who swear they conceived their first child there. It sounds cliché to call it a family, but it is a community in the deepest sense, something to build on, where so many have gone before, and new contributions are always welcome. There really is nothing else quite like it, no other space so conducive to this kind of spectacle, no other chosen family so inviting.
