It's a funny thing, but every year at FRF I feel blissfully as though I've briefly disconnected my brain from the Matrix for a few days and lived life close to the soil. Or mud, depending on the weather. You wouldn't think this would happen at a big media event, but something about all that mud and air does a number on your brain, and next thing you know you're communing with the raw essence of the music you are hearing, even as it's being shot at you with state of the art technology.

I have a friend who is debating whether to return to Fuji Rock this year or sail the Mediterranian with her family. It's telling that she categorizes the two similarly. She considers both a chance to escape the world for awhile, to reconnect with something primal.

And music takes on extra resonance when you're in this state. Sleep-over outdoor music festivals have always been about nature red in tooth and claw opening up our pores so as to cannoball the music directly into the deepest recesses of our amygdala.

It's not just content, man, it's context.

kern

Photo by Joe Kern