Coachella 2025 came and went. The usual suspects left the festival grounds with a bang, notably Lady Gaga’s theatrically opulent MAYHEM set. However, noise heard outside the festival grounds was diluted by woes and complaints.
Attendees expressed frustration with inflated prices for seemingly diminished quality. It’s no secret that Coachella and similar events are not cheap experiences. A general admission ticket runs about $600 before added costs for accommodation, travel, and incidentals. Scrolling through “What I Spent at Coachella” vertical content reveals the average trip totals around $1,500-$2,000. Food and drinks inside the festival also see bloated prices. No one item, for both food and beverage, falls below $10.
Cost-benefit analyses and moral judgements around the expense seem more interested in ridicule than in raising concerns regarding price inflation. While influencers with comped tickets and wealthy youngsters do not bear the weight of expense as significantly, those who cannot easily afford entry still find their way in. Music festivals have begun offering payment plans, wherein one pays in smaller increments over the course of a year rather than the entire amount up front.
Many turn their noses up at this so-called “YOLO” mentality. They claim it is irresponsible to spend money one does not readily have. But this perspective seems to suggest that frivolity or leisure is reserved for those with excess money. Do we genuinely believe that? Or at the very least, is that a principle we want to endorse and accept?
As August Brown points out in an article for Los Angeles Times, payment plans offer a smarter financial option than putting exorbitant funds on credit. These plans do not accrue interest and allow attendees to budget the cost as a monthly expense. Without such payment options, Coachella would be a sea of influencers and rich kids. Two groups who already have exclusive spaces reserved just for them.
Commentary accusing millennials and Gen Z of hemorrhaging money to attend outrageously priced events frequently ignores how commodification negatively impacts the party scene. Today’s youth contends with a cynical reality wherein economic hardship feels inevitable. Many believe they will never be able to own a home, or any other prominent asset for that matter, and as a result do not have the same incentives to save. Not to mention that it is harder to build savings today with many jobs paying below a livable wage.
Gen Z has adopted an active nihilism. The economic reality of low wages, job insecurity, and inflation appear unrelenting on the horizon. In face of that despair, in which efforts to build a more financially stable life feel futile and meaningless, we cling to glimpses of joy and fun. The torments of living paycheck to paycheck may be endless, but a getaway to see your favorite artists perform offers just enough respite.
This brings me to BRAT. Cool-headed dance pop phenomenon Charli XCX’s last album was, for many, the soundtrack of last summer. It celebrated a kind of sloppy hedonism, similar to that of the late-aughts indie sleaze aesthetic. Given its thematic and visual similarity to indie sleaze, it was quickly included in the “recession pop” label. “Recession pop” describes a perceived tendency for mainstream pop music to increase in quality in moments of economic hardship. It also often centers partying, drug-use, and general fun-times.
The occurrence of “recession pop” makes conceptual sense. In moments where pleasures of all varieties seem less accessible, pop music and media presents an aspirational escape. A colorful fantasy where we aren’t broke and struggling, where we are young, hot, and having fun all the time. This is nothing new. In fact, many great artistic movements arose from such struggles. From the “starving artist” tropes of the 1920’s Lost Generation to New York ball culture in the 1980’s. This is not to romanticize pain or say that it is required to produce great art. Rather to acknowledge human resilience in the face of tribulation. Underground party culture is a reminder of that resilience. It urges a space that is inclusive, accessible, and raw.
However, the drawn out aesthetics of last summer’s BRAT era feel antithetical to the idea of “party equality. The record is a mainstream survey into a deep, stories club subculture. Charli XCX herself got her start in that scene, DJing at underground warehouse raves from a young age. It makes sense the sonic and visual style are core features throughout her avant-garde discography. However, perhaps coinciding with her rise in the mainstream pop canon, the aesthetic carries a different message. No longer saying, “Fun, pleasure, and partying should belong to everyone, from the dingiest warehouses to high-class penthouses.” Instead, something more akin to being excluded from the cool kids’ table.
Consider a moment from her BRAT tour performance, which also appeared in her recent Coachella set. During Guess, the audience watches Charli bounce onstage in a crowd of hand-selected, attractive, paid party people. Is this spectator position from below a call to encourage its viewers to make their own party? Or another reminder that wild abandon is becoming more and more of a luxury reserved for the wealthy and beautiful? This voyeuristic visual becomes more sinister when considered against the backdrop of increasing expenses associated with Coachella.
Indulgence and luxury are tempting vices. Feeling for a moment, that you too are a cool kid, is an undeniable thrill. Especially for those who have historically not been welcome. Party culture flourishes when it is a genuine space for everyone, rather than a space that pretends to be. To be in the crowd, head-banging, screaming lyrics, hugging friends. Not simply watching it happen onstage, $1,000 poorer.