Music festivals aren’t for the faint of heart. They’re a bit like running a marathon. Or so I assume, because it’s the closest I’ll ever come to running one. So when I got the opportunity to attend Lafayette Music Fest on behalf of Pink Sofa Hour and Couched Media, I came prepared. Armed with a festival-compliant water bottle, extra strong cold brew, electrolytes, 75 SPF sunscreen, a carefully-crafted schedule, and a pocket full of joints, I arrived at The District only an hour later than I had planned. I was bummed that my poor time management meant I missed Wellington Bullings, an R&B/soul singer who was one of three acts I knew of on the LMF lineup. But I did get wristbanded just in time to catch Fox Tracks Music Band, the house band of its namesake recording and production studio. To my surprise, they did a few songs with Jelie, a rapper, producer and engineer that I’m familiar with from Denver’s hip-hop scene. I absolutely love seeing rappers backed by live bands, so this was a cool moment to kick off the day, easing me into a full day of unfamiliar territory.
When I interviewed Kenny Vasko, co-owner of Dog House Music/The End Lafayette/Rock for the People and one of LMF’s key founders, he told me that 25-30% of downtown Lafayette is Hispanic, but that wasn’t necessarily represented in the music scene when he moved in six years ago. Well Kenny, I’m happy to report that Lafayette’s Hispanic population was definitely represented at LMF 2024. After Fox Tracks, LatinSoul took over The District, opening with a thunderous cover of “La Llorona.” Felisa Hernandez (AKA LatinSoul) introduced the song by saying it was popularized by Coco, but I feel like the legend of La Llorona is pretty widely known even outside of the Latin community. Hernandez’s commanding vocals, loud enough to make the microphone redundant, knocked off any lingering sleepiness I had (yes it was 1:30 in the afternoon, and yes I would normally just be getting up at that time).
Then I was off to Muse Performance Space to see JoFoke and Same Cloth, who started their set with a few covers. JoFoke explained that they transform every song they cover, saying, “We always drench it in our sauce.” To be honest, I didn’t recognize the songs they covered, but they sounded plenty saucy to me. JoFoke and the whole band all exuded so much joy while performing, but the piano player was literally grinning ear to ear the entire time. The band members took turns showing off with instrumental solos, giving each other knowing looks that seemed to say, “Yup, we sound good as hell and we know it.” It was such a pervasive vibe that when I left (less than half an hour later), I was shocked to see the sun still shining.
When I looked at the list of acts playing this year’s festival, “all female mariachi band” immediately caught my eye for obvious reasons. And when I wandered back to the festival epicenter, Mariachi Las Dahlias once again caught my eye (quite literally) in their traditional black and gold-embroidered outfits accented with swaths of fuschia. From a pure novelty standpoint, of course I love a mariachi band, but these ladies also displayed some of the most impressive musicianship of the day. That goes for the vocals too–I swear the vocalist held one note for a solid minute and a half.
Continuing the Latin wave, I went to The End for SoyCeleste, a DIY punk band with ska and Latin influences. At the top of their set, lead singer Celeste told the crowd, “This is your chance to skank.” I did not know what that meant, but a few people started a Charlie Brown-like hop that I can only assume is “skanking” while the band covered Bikini Kill’s “Rebel Girl.” My goal for the day was to make it to at least one set at every participating venue, but I spent the most time at The End because I love how it feels like your eclectic aunt’s living room. I’m also tickled that there are usually real dogs in the house at Dog House Music Studios. From my palm leaf-printed chaise lounge perch, I caught several Babs sightings (Dog House’s iconic mascot and resident sweetie), plus a bonus guest appearance from a labradoodle puppy (!!) named Joe. SoyCelete’s unapologetically political punk tracks lay out the band’s beliefs in no uncertain terms, with titles that speak for themselves, like “Body Sovereignty” and “Feminism is Intersectional.” At the end of the set, SoyCeleste brought out Joshua, the same trumpet player who performed with LatinSoul a few hours earlier, for a VERY different cover of “La Llorona.” Celeste dedicated the song to the lives lost in Palestine, then burst into an extremely badass punk rock version of the classic folk song. While the original is a beautiful, melancholy song, SoyCeleste’s cover really channels the rage that accompanies grief, adding a new dimension to a time-honored ballad.
The one set I was determined not to miss was May Be Fern, even if it meant missing a few other acts I would’ve liked to see. Liz, the other co-owner of Dog House Music/The End/Rock for the People, introduced them as “a queer non-male band,” saying that they’re one of those bands you’ll one day brag about seeing way back when. I couldn’t agree more. They’re all exceptional musicians and vocalists, with intriguing, queer-coded (and sometimes not coded at all) lyrics and a fresh, funk rock sound. But they’re also all just impossibly cool, radiating an effortless rockstar energy on and off stage. (They came to the PSH tent later on to ask a question, and I must admit I was a little starstruck.) Prepare for a brief detour while I wax poetic on May Be Fern.
Every May Be Fern set I’ve seen has started with their original song “Lady Bass,” and this was no exception. It makes sense to use “Lady Bass” to introduce the band. It captures their funky sound, shows off lead singer Kate Fern’s arena-worthy vocals (she’s also the band’s bassist, so I always think of her as the namesake of Lady Bass), as well as the other members’ instrumental skills, and you’ll find yourself singing the chorus– “Sitting in the corner wearing nothing but a smile and a lollipop”– for days afterwards. After a few more originals (including the song that made me fall in love with May Be Fern, “I Can’t Cry.”, they debuted their new single “Blood Beach” as a nod to the Halloween season. The track is decidedly spooky, especially those opening vampiric organ keys.
My favorite thing about watching May Be Fern perform is their unmatched energy and chemistry during their sets. It sounds simple, but they know how to move on stage, playing their instruments with their whole bodies and making use of the whole stage area. Whether it’s Kate wandering over to interact with one of her bandmates, or the subtle exchange of smiles during a song, you feel like you’re witnessing four friends have the time of their life. And in turn, you have the time of your life. Just as they usually open with “Lady Bass,” May Be Fern usually closes with “Color Me Stoked”, which is also the final track on their debut album, Okay Grandma, Your Turn. As Kate told the audience, “Some songs are perfect enders.” Though I didn’t know it yet at the time, this was one of May Be Fern’s final shows with Evan on the drums, so I’m especially glad I got to catch one of their last performances with the OG May Be Fern lineup. I hope whoever takes over for Evan can keep up the charming camaraderie that May Be Fern has built.
After that, I headed back to The District to catch the second set by the Broomfield School of Rock students–who were fucking shredding just as hard as every other act I saw. Now, since I spoke with all the festival organizers, I personally knew that Guerrilla Fanfare was planning to do a second line from The District to The Arts Hub at some point. Unfortunately, no one else, least of all the School Of Rock kids, seemed to get the memo. So in the middle of them belting out Heart’s classic “Barracuda,” a literal marching band awkwardly tramped through their set and lined up right in front of the student band performing, accidentally creating the funniest moment of the day. Someone who must have some important role at the festival (because I don’t know why else he would have the audacity) actually plucked the mic out of the kid’s hand to announce Guerrilla Fanfare’s arrival, as if anyone could have missed an entire parade of people playing brass instruments. Rightfully miffed, the teens exchanged confused looks before deciding that if Guerrilla Fanfare was going to interrupt their set, they would simply play louder than them. If someone had better foresight, Guerrilla Fanfare could have joined the students so that they could all play together. But apparently no one did, and instead they played against each other.
I can’t capture in words how fucking funny this was to witness, but try to picture it: a couple of angsty teenagers stubbornly continuing to bang out “Barracuda” at increasingly louder decibels to drown out the oblivious 13-piece brass band playing “When The Saints Go Marching In” directly in front of them. This cacophony lasted for a few hilarious minutes before Guerrilla Fanfare led the way to The Arts Hub as planned, leaving the irritated and confused students in their wake. Luckily, the people at The Arts Hub were MUCH happier to see the second line than the students were. Speaking of playing an instrument with your whole body, seeing a tuba player in motion will never cease to amaze me. Like, how are you managing to play an instrument while actively weightlifting? I didn’t stay for too long, but I did catch GuFa’s cover of Taylor Swift’s hit “Shake it Off,” and now I’m convinced Miss Swift needs a brass band on tour with her. (Do you think her private jet is big enough for a whole marching band?)
I had to hustle out of The Arts Hub so I could go back to The End to see Five to Nine, made up of the venue’s co-owner Kenny and his buddies from his former life as a corporate tax accountant (it’s the opposite of their 9 to 5, get it?). I didn’t know what to expect, because when I asked Kenny if he was a musician, he said no. Well, he lied! Kenny, you can fucking belt bro! The sweetest thing was watching Liz, Kenny’s wife and co-owner of The End, have a total fangirl moment over her husband. I don’t know which of them looked more excited. I wasn’t even mad at the guy in a hotdog costume standing right in front of me. It just added to the kitschy chaos of it all, especially once I learned his name is Jesus. (Not hey-zeus, actually Jesus.)
Still giggling over Jesus the Hot Dog, I made the cross-parking lot journey to Nissi’s to see headliners Gasoline Lollipops, the third of the three acts I knew before LMF. Four years ago, I interviewed GasPops frontman Clay Rose about their 2020 album All the Misery Money Can Buy, so it was cool to finally hear that album live. Clay is a fascinating character, and I’ve always loved his deep, gravelly voice–it scratches the same itch as Kurt Cobain’s voice for me. I snaked through two-stepping couples to order a VERY strong cocktail called a Nissi-tini, then skirted around the edge of the huge ballroom to find a prime spot on the side of the stage. People always sleep on the side-stage view. GasPop’s roots music isn’t exactly (or at all) what I would think of as dance music, but they had the most enthusiastic dancing crowd of all the acts I saw. The band changed up the arrangement several times during their set, with the bassist Bradley “Bad Brad” Morse switching back and forth between bass guitar and standing bass. Some songs were definitively guitar-driven rock, and some were stripped back to acoustic versions with just Clay, maybe Donny Ambory on guitar, and Scott Coulter on the keys. Either way, Clay and the rest of the band all have big rockstar energy, and it was nice seeing both the band and crowd so thoroughly in their element.
Pink Overlord Pedro recommended that I go see Big Dopes at The End (led by fellow Pink Sofa Person Eddie Schmid!), so of course I obliged. Again, I was not familiar with the band, so I was a little confused why all four members were wearing NASA jumpsuits, but it quickly became apparent that space is kind of their thing. They introduced their latest single, “Moon Car,” by having the audience count down from ten like a rocket launch. By the way, it’s been over a month, and I’m still hearing Eddie sing the chorus, “In my moon caaAaAar.” Shit is catchy. This could just be a me thing, but Big Dopes is one of those acts where the members do not seem like they would be in the same band. There’s two almost-identical mulleted dudes in 80s pedophile glasses (I am so sorry to you two, I do not know what that style of glasses is actually called) who definitely look like a duo, then Eddie, with his clean-cut, collegiate a capella singer appeal, and finally the drummer, who looks like somebody’s uncle. I can’t explain that, he just has uncle vibes.
Blame it on the Nissi-tini, but around this time, let’s just say things started to get weird. As I was leaving The End I heard a funky dance beat calling my name, and followed it to the source. Lo and behold, it was Pedro, DJing at The District, saxophone on display and all. Unfortunately, because everyone was told that the free shows at The District were over after 5 p.m., the crowd consisted of maybe 3 people. But I very much enjoyed having basically a private show, and it’s always dope to see someone DJing with actual vinyls. Plus, when you’re just playing for a few stragglers, you can get real experimental. Like, (fellow Pink Sofa Person) Corey hopping on the mic to add some sparse but vaguely provocative lyrics to Pedro’s vintage dance tunes. The duo absolutely needs to record and release “Sex Money Fame Fashion,” an absolute banger consisting of those four words repeated over and over. VERY Brat.
At this point in the evening, the only sets left were at Bounce Empire, the bizarre alcohol-fueled inflatable theme park that joined LMF’s venue roster this year. With promises of cocktails in adult sippy cups, three DJ sets, a hydraulic elevated stage, concert-ready sound system, and of course an inflatable kingdom, we set off to Bounce Empire for the festival’s “after party.” The reality was even stranger and more dystopian than anticipated. Sitting in the upper bar area which had a very odd, space-age Las Vegas aesthetic, and a creepy amount of childrens’ smudged handprints all over the glass (but on the outside like they had scaled the walls?), we could watch everything happening below, which was admittedly very entertaining. Most people clearly opted to go home, but the few people down below were either dancing very drunkenly and enthusiastically, or falling over themselves on the inflatables. Future Joy was doing their best to keep the energy up, but between the crappy sound design and the utter lunacy of the entire situation, I didn’t really hear much of the music. There was a group interpretive dance number at some point though. If you’d like to experience this sensation for yourself, I think it could easily be recreated with faint techno music, an episode of Wipeout, strobe lights, and a lot of acid.
My overall takeaway from Lafayette Music Fest is that it reaffirmed how a live performance is really a mutual exchange of energy. When a performer’s joy is palpable, it becomes contagious. When the audience reciprocates, it invigorates the performers on stage. I wouldn’t usually have the stamina to make it through a long festival day, but the wave of communal glee carried me through 12+ hours of power walking back and forth between venues. LMF team, thank you for making this happen (except you Bounce Empire, you’re still on my shit list). Seeing live music among a close-knit community, one that includes both the crowd members and the musicians themselves, radically transforms a concert experience. So attending an entire music festival made up of friends and neighbors is like being at a giant, unreasonably talented block party–and you’re welcome whether you live on the block or not.
Comments