Coachella is lame now
Where did alternative music go?
I get so mad when I look at past Coachella lineups. You mean to tell me that I could have seen Depeche Mode, Massive Attack, and Daft Punk, but I happened to be six years old? Instead, I had the pleasure of watching Lana del Rey forget the words to “Born to Die” at 60 BPM. You mean to tell me that Lollapalooza used to have a circus sideshow and now they’re sponsored by PayPal and Venmo? You mean to inform me of these facts, like it won’t break my soul?
Lots of people lament the disappearance of subculture, but looking at past lineups is just rubbing salt in the wound. I mourn the loss of cool shit.
I now find myself faced with a chicken-egg problem. Did alternative rock become less popular, or did these festivals become popular that they booked fewer alternative artists? I’ve come up with a couple hypotheses: 1) music production attitudes have shifted and 2) sanitization is more profitable anyway. As a result, people get bored, listen to older artists who’ve got the juice, and we enter a feedback loop with zero innovation.
1) Music production is more isolated
The most popular up-and-coming rock bands of today are not mainstream. Bands like Black Midi or Black Country New Road (who played Coachella in 2024, albeit on a small stage) get streams and shows, but they don’t have the same mass recognition that bands like Nirvana or Soundgarden had three decades prior. Hell, they don’t even have the same recognition as indie rock bands from the 2010s like Vampire Weekend or The Strokes.
Other non-pop music genres are faring relatively better, like electronica (Charli xcx, The Dare, FKA Twigs) and rap (Doechii, Kendrick Lamar, Tyler, the Creator), but where’s rock?
There’s nothing fresh or interesting about current rock music that isn’t tucked away in Bandcamp or playing a local scene (not that there’s anything wrong with that, but we’re talking macro-level). The 2025 Grammy awards for Best Rock Performance and Best Rock Album went to two bands that should be enjoying margaritas on a cruise ship and golfing. The Beatles are a band from the 1960s. They are not a currently active band. This award could have easily gone to modern rock performers, except nobody knows any.
Adam Levine caught flack for saying “there aren’t any bands anymore,” but he’s right. I thought this was certainly because streaming does not pay. While that’s a piece of the puzzle (the cost of instruments and space to rehearse is also extremely prohibitive), Jamie Oborne, founder of indie record label Dirty Hit, claims that music production technology itself creates a tendency to go solo:
“It’s more likely now that a kid will make music in isolation because of technology. When I first met the 1975, they were all friends meeting in a room to make noise. So much is done in bedrooms these days, so you’re more likely to be by yourself” (The Guardian).
Now, solo artists are great. People have come up with some amazing music while sitting alone on their computer in a bedroom, but I’m not sure that most people creatively function this way. Part of what can explain the same-ness and lack of inspiration or new developments in (mainstream) music today is that artists do not have collaborators and the technology has stagnated.
Each decade from 1940-2000 sounds incredibly distinct, mostly due to the explosion in music technology and availability of recorded music. The invention of magnetic tape allowed musicians to layer sounds, giving them much more control over the music production process and allowed for experimentation. Synthesizers were an entirely new instrument invented in 1955. Distortion was accidentally invented in the 1950s and brought to life in the 1960s with the first overdrive pedals. From the 2010s onward, I could pluck any hit and smoothly tuck it into another decade. We’re halfway through the 2020s with no distinct style or innovations.
There are hundreds of materialist arguments for why this is the case. Streaming is a big culprit, as are decreased attention spans, nostalgia is easier to sell, and the barrier for entry is higher than ever before. All of these are true.
I would also add that a lack of creative partners is to blame - a lack of bands. Art is a collaborative process. While the kid making music in her bedroom can absolutely make new sounds and experiment, so can kids messing around with instruments in the garage. Collaboration was ingrained into a musician’s routine, and while there were always plenty of solo artists in the past, the practice of working together on songs or hearing new ideas from creative partners was en vogue. This still happens today, but there are overall fewer heads in the game.
2) Festivals are purposefully lame now—just look at Coachella
Modern musicians also have a financial incentive to be, well, lame. We can blame a few things here: declining literacy rates for the explosion in popularity of overtly direct, narrative-driven, self-centered lyrics, TikTok for causing labels to pressure artists, and streaming platforms for making listeners hear the same songs over and over again. I would like to offer a new dimension to this discourse: money made from live music festivals that has nothing to do with music.
Gary Tovar founded Goldenvoice in the 80s when music promoters would not book punk acts. He promoted alternative events across California until he was arrested for marijuana trafficking and handed the business over to Rick Van Santen and Paul Tollett, a ska promoter who went on to create Coachella in 1999. As the festival grew, Goldenvoice was acquired by AEG Presents in 2001 and began to accept sponsors. Tollett himself stated:
"I hate it when you go to shows and you are bombarded with all this advertising. It just shows a lack of respect for your audience and the music” (Los Angeles Times).
So that is exactly the problem we have today. Since we’ve consolidated all festivals to a handful of companies, the goal is to get as many people through those doors instead of establishing a loyal audience. They need to get lifestyle influencers to go, they need sponsors, and they need to make little air conditioned rooms where you can buy an Absolut cocktail for $18. The music itself is secondary to this goal.
A rock band could never headline today’s Coachella unless they had a previously-established sales track record built in the late 20th century before the internet broke music. If you harbor any kind of edge or real risk, you will not be booked or you will be censored. Artists like Lady Gaga and Tyler, the Creator can still put on awesome performances, but the Overton window has undoubtedly shifted.
Yeah, everyone’s gotta make money. You can shrug your shoulders and say “this is just how the world works and I am very lame” or you can desire more from your culture. People like Gary Tovar and Paul Tollett could never get an alternative festival off the ground today, ironically preventing new business opportunity. Risk aversion will be the end of everything.
The Old Music Retreat
Now we’re at a breaking point where older music is astronomically more popular than new music. Old songs represent 75% of streaming today, and as music historian Ted Goia points out, labels have noticed. Instead of searching for fresh talent, they’re digging into the archives to publish what was never intended to be published, by dead musicians who aren’t here to tell them no. This process wins Grammys—not that anyone watches it.
It’s exploitative to raise musicians from the dead to profit off their image forever, their soul simply performing for you with no breaks to see loved ones or use the bathroom. I’m reminded of the poem, “My Mother” by Frieda Hughes, Sylvia Plath’s daughter. She wrote, “My buried mother/Is up-dug for repeat performances.”
However, I can’t help but wonder if this is partly because new (mainstream) music is not very good.
When I listen to a powerhouse performer like Whitney Houston, or a creative visionary like David Bowie, I’m resentful. I think to myself, “why can’t we have this today?”
Who is today’s David Bowie? Who is today’s Whitney Houston? I’m sorry, but it’s not someone like Ariana Grande. “7 rings” is just not as good or memorable of a song as “I Wanna Dance With Somebody.” When I attended Coachella in 2024, No Doubt was my favorite headliner (a band that’s 30+ years old!).
I felt this resentment reach its peak when I watched Singin’ in the Rain (1952). I was unbelievably jealous of people who got to see this as their musical smash hit of the year while I got the blown-out, back-lit scenes in Wicked (2024).
I can’t lay back and take this anymore. I want good art. I want point of view, experimentation, and boundary-pushing. Is that too much to ask for?
I have no solutions, only exasperated venting. Just as I’ve given up on straight clubs, perhaps it is time to give up on large concerts and festivals. My wallet will thank me anyway.
I'm currently re-reading Michael Azzerad's "Our band Could Be Your Life", which is about the Indy music scene from 1980-1990, which covers everything from Black Flag and the Minutemen, and ends with Nirvana. I read this, probably 20 years ago, this is my era, these are my bands. The music industry grabs up whatever is 'trending', and runs it into the ground. As a musician, I watched this first hand. It's fascinating and too big to write about here.
To your bigger point: where are the bands? Still in the underground, I hope. I'm still playing. Still in a band. Just not trying that hard to make it.
I love to talk about this kind of stuff and have a perspective that only age brings. If you ever want to have a rant/conversation, hit me up.
aperol being the “the official spritz partner” of the festival was a nail in the coffin - like are we marketing a tennis tournament or a music festival???