I’m writing this on Monday night. Or Tuesday morning. I don’t actually know anymore. My sleep schedule is destroyed, my phone is full of videos I don’t remember taking, and I think there’s still glitter in my left ear. So if this article rambles or makes no sense or accidentally repeats the same sentence twice, that’s just part of the experience. You’re getting the authentic Coachella brain fog. You’re welcome.
Anyway. Coachella 2026 prt1 happened. Weekend one. I was there. I spent way too much money. I made some bad decisions. I saw some good bands. I also saw some really bad decisions made by other people. And by the festival organizers. And by the weather. Honestly the weather was the biggest offender but we’ll get to that.
Let me just start with the most important thing: it was hot. I know Coachella is always hot. That’s not news. But this was different. This was stupid hot. This was “the weather app just gave up and showed a fire emoji” hot. Saturday hit 112 degrees. One hundred and twelve. That’s not festival weather. That’s “stay inside and pray” weather. But we were all outside. In the sun. Walking. Dancing. Standing in lines for bathrooms. It was brutal. I saw a guy pass out while just standing still. Not dancing. Not running. Just standing. His knees buckled and he went down like a tree. His friends caught him but barely. Security came over with water and one of those silver emergency blankets. He was fine after like ten minutes but still. That happened at like 2 PM. The day had just started.
And here’s the thing that really got me. They added more misting stations this year. That was good. But they put one of them right next to a BBQ tent. So every time the mist went off, it sprayed this fine cloud of pulled pork vapor all over everyone nearby. You couldn’t tell if you were sweating or if you were just being basted. By the end of the day my arms smelled like a smokehouse. My friend said I looked “glazed.” I wanted to be offended but she was right.
The lawn situation was also a disaster. They put in this new turf. Some kind of hybrid grass that was supposed to look perfect on camera. And it did look good on Friday morning. Really green. Really even. Really fake looking actually but whatever. By Friday night it was already starting to tear up. By Saturday it was half dirt. By Sunday it was just dust. Not dirt. Dust. Fine powdery dust that got everywhere. Every step kicked up a little cloud. By the end of the weekend you couldn’t take a breath without inhaling what used to be grass. I blew my nose on the drive home and it looked like brownie mix. I’m not exaggerating. I actually took a picture. I’m not going to post it because that’s disgusting but I have it.
Someone told me the grounds crew asked to water the turf more but the festival said no because it would make the grass less “photogenic” during the day. I don’t know if that’s true. It sounds true. It sounds exactly like something that would happen at Coachella. Prioritizing how things look on Instagram over how things actually are for actual humans. That’s the whole festival in a nutshell honestly.
Okay let me talk about the music because that’s supposed to be the point right?
Hozier was good. Really good. He played the Outdoor stage at like 4 PM which is the worst time because the sun is directly overhead and there’s no shade anywhere near that stage. But he came out and did an a cappella version of Work Song and everyone just stopped complaining. You could hear a pin drop. 80,000 people quiet. In 110 degrees. That’s power. Then a dust storm hit during the second song. Not a big one. Just a gust that blew sand everywhere. But it made everything look golden and apocalyptic and honestly it fit the vibe. He just kept singing. Didn’t even blink. Respect.
Olivia Rodrigo was surprisingly good too. I say surprisingly because I wasn’t sure if she could handle a headlining set. She’s young. She’s still figuring out the whole arena thing. But she came out angry. Like really angry. She was yelling into the mic. Not screaming but close. At one point someone in the front row threw a water bottle at the stage. Not at her. Just onto the stage. And she stopped the song, walked over, picked it up, looked at the crowd, and said “who threw this” in a voice that could freeze fire. No one confessed. She threw the bottle back into the crowd. Not hard. Just a little toss. But the message was clear. Then she stepped backward to get back to the mic and just… fell off the stage. Just a small drop. Like two feet. She landed on a monitor speaker. Didn’t even stop singing. Just got up and kept going. That’s not talent that’s just pure adrenaline and spite. I respect it.
The ABBA hologram thing was weird. I went in wanting to hate it. It felt like a gimmick. Like something a tech company would make to show off. But then the show started and Frida’s hologram said “hello darlings” in that accent and I felt this weird lump in my throat. My friend next to me started crying during SOS. Not sobbing just tears running down her face. I pretended to check my phone. The technology is too good now. You can see their eyes move. They look at each other. They adjusted their shawls. At one point Agnetha’s hologram fixed her hair. That’s not something a pre-recorded thing does. That’s a person in a motion capture suit somewhere. It’s uncanny and beautiful and also kind of terrifying. What are we doing. Why are we making dead people perform. I don’t know. I still clapped at the end.
The Daft Punk tribute was less successful. The hologram glitched during the second song. Thomas Bangalter’s face froze mid-smile. Just stuck there. Pixelated and weird. And the music looped one note over and over. Just “da da da da da” for like forty five seconds. The crowd went silent. Then someone yelled “IT’S LEARNING” and everyone laughed. They rebooted and the show went fine after that but the damage was done. The video went viral. You’ve seen it. I don’t need to describe it. But I will say this: when the hologram came back online, it looked scared. I know that’s not possible. It’s a projection. It doesn’t have emotions. But I swear the eyes were wider. The smile was smaller. Maybe I imagined it. Maybe I was dehydrated.
The facial recognition payment system was a nightmare. They called it Wristband ID. You register your face ahead of time and then you just smile at a camera to buy things. No phone. No wallet. Just your face. Sounds convenient right? It crashed at noon on Friday. Just died. Every single payment kiosk went down at the same time. No water. No food. No merch. For two hours. In 112 degrees. People were losing their minds. A guy next to me tried to buy a bottle of water with cash and the vendor said “we can’t take cash anymore.” The guy said “it’s water. I’m going to pass out.” The vendor said “I’m sorry sir the system is down.” The guy just took the water and walked away. No one stopped him. That’s how bad it was.
The backup system was paper vouchers. You had to go to a tent, show three forms of ID, fill out a form, and then they gave you little paper tickets you could trade for stuff. Three forms of ID. In a festival. Who brings three forms of ID to Coachella. I had my drivers license and a credit card. That’s it. So I couldn’t get vouchers. Neither could most people. By Saturday people were just trading things. I gave someone a granola bar for sunscreen. Someone else traded a shirt for a soda. It was like a medieval marketplace but everyone was wearing sequins.
The influencers were the worst part honestly. There was a special section this year called the Creator Cabana. Right in front of the main stage. Shade. Couches. Free drinks. Only for people with a certain number of followers. And they didn’t watch the shows. They just filmed themselves watching the shows. One woman spent ten minutes setting up a shot of herself crying to a Harry Styles song. Harry Styles wasn’t even there. She was crying to a song that wasn’t playing. Another guy live streamed himself complaining about the heat while standing under the shade that regular people couldn’t use. When someone asked to share the shade he said “I’m working.” You’re holding a smoothie and a ring light. You’re not a lineman. You’re not a doctor. You’re not doing anything important. I’m sorry but it’s true.
But not everything was bad. Some things were genuinely good.
The ASL interpreter for Kendrick Lamar was incredible. She was signing every word. Not just the lyrics but the ad libs. The grunts. The little sounds. She was jumping and twisting and her face was doing this whole performance. She was sweating harder than anyone in the crowd. Between songs the crowd started cheering for her. Just for her. Not for Kendrick. For her. She bowed. Then she kept going. That was real.
There was a Japanese punk band called Melt-Banana that played the Sonora tent at like 2 PM on Sunday. Maybe 200 people there. They were louder than any band I’ve ever heard. The singer climbed a speaker stack. The guitarist was making sounds that shouldn’t come from a guitar. A mosh pit formed around a guy in a dinosaur costume. No one filmed it. No one was checking their phone. Everyone was just there. Sweaty and loud and happy. That’s what Coachella should be. Not the Ferris wheel. Not the art installations made of recycled plastic. Just a hot tent and loud music and strangers hugging.
A random guy at the Do LaB had a backpack full of electrolyte packets. He was just handing them out. Didn’t want anything in return. Wouldn’t take money. He said “I brought too many” but he had like 50 of them. He brought exactly as many as he needed to be a hero. I don’t know his name. He was wearing a bucket hat. That’s all I remember.
The group of moms in their 50s who camped out for Stevie Nicks. She did a surprise set on Sunday. Nobody knew it was happening. These moms had camped out since like 10 AM just in case. They had chairs and snacks and a cooler. They gave me a granola bar. They said “we saw her in 1982” and then they started crying. She played Landslide. Everyone cried.
So what should we remember from Coachella 2026?
Remember that it’s too expensive. A one day ticket is $649 before fees. That’s rent for some people. That’s a car payment. That’s groceries for a month. And we pay it. Every year. We complain and then we pay it. Maybe we’re the problem.
Remember that the grass died but people didn’t. Mostly. A few people passed out. Everyone survived. The medics were working hard. The water stations were mostly working. The misting fans helped even if they smelled like pork.
Remember that technology is great until it isn’t. The holograms were beautiful. The facial recognition was a disaster. The livestream probably worked better than being there. But being there meant you got to see Olivia Rodrigo fall off a stage and keep singing. You got to see a churro costume become a cult leader. You got to hug a stranger during a whale song remix.
I lost my hat on Sunday. Brown baseball cap. Had it for years. Someone probably took it. Or it’s in the dust somewhere. Part of the ground now. That’s fine. I’ll buy a new one.
I’ll probably go back next year. I’m part of the problem.
See you in the dust
by ANNIE HOLLAND (Someone Who Should Have Just Watched the Livestream)