I planned on attending TIMF because I wanted to see what a small festival with no stage conflict would feel like in a FOMO-centric world. Would it be part of the perpetual hype machine or establish itself as a legitimately curated affair that strives to bring people the artists they need to hear, where full sets beg for an audience at all junctures?

After one day of this shit, I’m not sure how to feel, other than slightly more relaxed than at Outside Lands. Festivals are a thing: they are a season, they perpetuate a culture, there is fashion to the festival. The festival is what got me innumerable free sunglasses and a festival bra and festive panties at Coachella after they’d expanded to two weekends, post-establishing dominance where the mere mention of days was enough to sell the entire event out.

This is a played out rant that essential boils down to the sheer fact that they don’t need “us”. Sure, they need fans but they don’t need publicity. Y’all do it for them in the form of carefully designated hashtags, apps, and social media check-ins. What better way to affirm the greatness of an event than through the lens of a four inch screen?

So, what do you stand to gain out of my review? Why, a supposedly expert opinion of how the bands that don’t matter (though regarding TIMF, they do. A wishy-washy line-up has given the festival a close call of finally selling out two day tickets just one day before the event, though it’s winding down to the final day and they still have room for more single day’ers) appear to sound and entertain. So, let’s get down to the marrow of things:

– Food and booze is astronomically expensive for a boutique festival such as TIMF. Sure, there are abundant options in the vein of food trucks and trendy juices but booze is rather limited (especially hard alcohol) and simply not worth the cost. Given security’s lax standards, your best bet is to grab a flask and fill it with the good stuff before hitting the shuttle bus to the island. A particularly laissez faire security agent blinked twice and affirmed my status as a photographer before letting me in and that’s what ultimately amounted to my bag search. Unless she happened to have x-ray vision, I’d say I’m safe and so are you.

– Whatever you’re doing and wherever you are, look up and listen to and eventually buy tickets for Mø. I’ve never been so excited to see an artists with an eye infection simply because Mø’s eye patch added a whole new appropriately pirate-y aesthetic to her stage show. The uber-catchy coos of “Pilgrim” stayed stuck in my head up until Outkast’s stellar set. Mø was the reason so many people showed up to Treasure Island around 2pm and for damn good reason.

– This may very well be the last time Outkast ever plays in the Bay Area. And this certainly feels like a finale tour, its celebration of two decades of the duo essentially adding up to the same show every night. It’s become expectation that Andre 3000 wears a black matte jumpsuit with a different phrase every night, (though the price tag forever says “sold out”) this time choosing “have you stopped growing” either out of sardonic need to divorce himself of the same tracks or as a nod to the recursive nature of the festival, which brings us back to the social media grabs and the fact that this review may very well be nothing more than an extension of that. Look at the festival I was at and see that you want in. As for Outkast, their festival season and possibly their career as collaborators, ends on a high note at the end of the month in New Orleans.

the author

Always in motion. April Siese writes about music, takes photos at shows, and even helps put them on behind the scenes as a stagehand. She's written everything from hard news to beauty features, as well as fiction and poetry. She most definitely likes pie.

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