[ed. Personally, I wouldn't go to a rock festival again if you paid me. But I understand everyone has a different burnout point. See also: A Rational Conversation: Do We Really Need A Rock Festival?]
Something feels different about Bumbershoot this year. In the weeks after One Reel announced the lineup for this summer's festival, artists, musicians, critics, and friends began saying something I hadn't heard in years: "Wow, this year's Bumbershoot looks amazing." (...)
Anecdotally, it feels like a better spread and a break from Bumbershoots past that seemed to spend a huge amount of money on superstars like Bob Dylan and leave the rest of the acts in relative neglect. I'm sure the folks at One Reel would take issue with any implication that they weren't working their asses off every year, but the public perception was that it felt less like an integrated music and culture festival and more like a Tacoma Dome gig with a few ragtag bands invited to busk in the parking lot.
The reason this year feels different, say the people at One Reel, is because it actually is. "Any given year is one person's best-ever year and another person's worst-ever year," says One Reel executive director Jon Stone. "Every year we are beat up and held up as champions at the same time, which is part of the fun." But he also says that things changed dramatically in the wake of the 2010 festival, which starred Bob Dylan, Mary J. Blige, Weezer, and Hole—and turned out to be a bust, forcing One Reel to lay off 8 of its 14 full-time, year-round festival employees. Soon after that, Teatro ZinZanni, which had started as a One Reel project, spun off and became its own entity. (...)
Why was 2010 such a crucible for the festival?
The first reason, Stone says, is that Bumbershoot found itself pouring "phenomenal resources" into headline acts. "That part is inversely proportional to the death of the record industry," he explains. "Artists used to make money on record sales and tour as a loss leader. Now artists make nothing on record sales... so fees for performances went up." In the early 2000s, he says, it cost $30,000 to put a main-stage name in Memorial Stadium and fill it up. But by the late 2000s, that number increased tenfold, costing One Reel $350,000 or more to do the same thing. "It was us not seeing the writing on the wall," he says.
The second reason was something more like hubris. In the 2000s, Stone says, Bumbershoot was getting national media attention and being compared to the big shots like Coachella and Bonnaroo. "We began to drink that Kool-Aid and thought, 'We've got to follow the leaders'" and book superstars. In retrospect, he says, that was "a huge mistake" for a few reasons. "What's been happening with the music industry in general—and festivals in particular—is a path towards unsustainability. They're not local, curated celebrations anymore. Global corporations run them." And when global corporations take over music festivals, he says, "innovation stops and the soulless and relentless milking of the consumer dollar starts."
by Brendan Killey, The Stranger | Read more:
Image: Mark Kaufman
Something feels different about Bumbershoot this year. In the weeks after One Reel announced the lineup for this summer's festival, artists, musicians, critics, and friends began saying something I hadn't heard in years: "Wow, this year's Bumbershoot looks amazing." (...)
Anecdotally, it feels like a better spread and a break from Bumbershoots past that seemed to spend a huge amount of money on superstars like Bob Dylan and leave the rest of the acts in relative neglect. I'm sure the folks at One Reel would take issue with any implication that they weren't working their asses off every year, but the public perception was that it felt less like an integrated music and culture festival and more like a Tacoma Dome gig with a few ragtag bands invited to busk in the parking lot.The reason this year feels different, say the people at One Reel, is because it actually is. "Any given year is one person's best-ever year and another person's worst-ever year," says One Reel executive director Jon Stone. "Every year we are beat up and held up as champions at the same time, which is part of the fun." But he also says that things changed dramatically in the wake of the 2010 festival, which starred Bob Dylan, Mary J. Blige, Weezer, and Hole—and turned out to be a bust, forcing One Reel to lay off 8 of its 14 full-time, year-round festival employees. Soon after that, Teatro ZinZanni, which had started as a One Reel project, spun off and became its own entity. (...)
Why was 2010 such a crucible for the festival?
The first reason, Stone says, is that Bumbershoot found itself pouring "phenomenal resources" into headline acts. "That part is inversely proportional to the death of the record industry," he explains. "Artists used to make money on record sales and tour as a loss leader. Now artists make nothing on record sales... so fees for performances went up." In the early 2000s, he says, it cost $30,000 to put a main-stage name in Memorial Stadium and fill it up. But by the late 2000s, that number increased tenfold, costing One Reel $350,000 or more to do the same thing. "It was us not seeing the writing on the wall," he says.
The second reason was something more like hubris. In the 2000s, Stone says, Bumbershoot was getting national media attention and being compared to the big shots like Coachella and Bonnaroo. "We began to drink that Kool-Aid and thought, 'We've got to follow the leaders'" and book superstars. In retrospect, he says, that was "a huge mistake" for a few reasons. "What's been happening with the music industry in general—and festivals in particular—is a path towards unsustainability. They're not local, curated celebrations anymore. Global corporations run them." And when global corporations take over music festivals, he says, "innovation stops and the soulless and relentless milking of the consumer dollar starts."
by Brendan Killey, The Stranger | Read more:
Image: Mark Kaufman
