Desert Hearts Festival glows bright again
Desert Hearts, the exploding music and lifestyle festival, returned to Los Coyotes Indian Reservation near Warner Springs last weekend. The sold-out affair — billed as an immersive experience famously fueled by “house, techno and love” — attracted more than 5,000 and brought a diverse roster of DJs and selectors for a 72-hour nonstop party.
The DJs, while integral to the Desert Hearts experience, are only one aspect of an Alice In Wonderland-esque time warp accompanied by: psychedelic art installations; an immense gallery and eclectic vendor row; soundbaths (the balancing and grounding delivery by Shannon McInteer of OmShantiSound deserves mention); an annex stage devoted entirely to the art of fire; comedy; panels (the “Women Crushing It!” panel presented by the Athena Collective stood out); an otherworldly fashion show; and themed camps. The latter included the Wench Toast-serving and Clean Carriage-hosting Savage Hearts and the mystically weird, dancefloor-adjacent cuddle puddle, Shangri-Lawless, spread out across the reservation.
While the blossoming festival clearly experienced growing pains by nearly doubling in size in the past two years, any signs of faltering were few and far between. The family vibes that Desert Hearts has become known for grew almost in sync with the growth in capacity and the love was palpable in nearly every interaction. Desert Hearts still manages to achieve something that nearly no other public event (albeit on private tribal land) has been able to accomplish: No one is a stranger, no matter how different, foreign or new. It’s a feeling that constantly rings true and even resonates long after the event has ended. It transports attendees to a place far removed from the daily grind and social hangups, even, as was evident again this year, bringing some to tears.
For its 11th iteration, the festival experienced only small hiccups — for one, there was a Day 1 traffic jam and cars had to be redirected to overflow lots. And while long-timers have concerns about whether the event had finally grown too big, those were put to rest when the dancefloor was sufficiently packed all weekend and yet still somehow remained inviting and breathable. Overall, Desert Hearts provided a glimpse of what life could be like if human intentions were realigned with a desire to connect and inspire.
Inspiration and innovation may be the greatest qualities that Desert Hearts fosters. With a fiendish frenzy, attendees absorbed the clear, crisp sound of Funkworks soundsystem (not to mention the monster monitor system provided by Subtract Music), as well as the psychedelic kaleidoscope of colors courtesy of Alternative Lighting Solutions. The ever-evolving floral crown adorning the DJ booth is a morphing art installation itself that is seemingly representative of some extraterrestrial stargate. The collision of sight and sound hugged the crowd tightly throughout the weekend and refused to let go. If the ’80s-neon-meets-Madmax-desert-dominatrix dress code wasn’t enough to tantalize your freshly-cleansed third eye, the fire dancers, spinners and breathers did the trick.
Throughout, the dancefloor seemed to take on a life of its own, bursting with eye-popping treats like Harajuku-Victorian hybrid stilt walkers, Chinese parading dragons and costumes from another planet. Highlights included a ridiculous rendition of the classic car salesman’s inflatable tubeman, a fully costumed and sufficiently “spaced out” astronaut and a man with a nest of turtle eggs on his head that apparently were “late to hatch due to the thick Monday fog.” The presentation couldn’t be any more indicative of a detour into the most deranged of senses. After it was all said and done, it was impossible to leave without a deep-seeded desire to give something back. That is the Desert Hearts experience.
Oh yeah, there was music, too.
In order of appearance:
Justin Martin (surprise guest)
There was speculation that the only “surprise guest” slot would go to KMLN, having just rocked an unforgettable unofficial DH pre-party at Sayers Club for Clinic. When the stage held by Dirtybird’s own Will Clarke seemed to share a secret that we weren’t yet in on, the speculation redirected to one of his labelmates, eventually ending up on the one and only Justin Martin. Few people can own a guest slot quite like Martin, and the crowd certainly returned the favor in praise. Friday night was off to an incredible start, owing much of its energy to the Dirtybird label co-founder’s well-polished dirty beats. With Mikey Lion having just played his third Dirtybird Campout late last year, it seems that DH and DB will have many years of welcomed cross-pollination in their collective futures.
While diversity certainly remains an important attribute of Desert Hearts — a festival not afraid to take chances on far right- or left-leaning sounds on the vast spectrum of electronic music (last year’s Egyptian Lover being the most obvious example) — their ability to curate a lineup of sonic certainty is what keeps long-time attendees coming back year after year. No artist encapsulates the Desert Hearts sound, vibe and ethos more effectively than Tara Brooks. This petite powerhouse consistently packs more punch in her sets than the vast majority of her SoCal counterparts, and somehow retains her humility. It’s safe to say that her time slot late into the first night set the bar for a weekend of vibes paying homage to the well-earned path that she has carefully cultivated.
Shaded (Live)
Blurring the lines between user-friendly house and dark techno and playing entirely his own material, Shaded represents a fraction of a fraction of producers that literally map their own path on their own terms. The L.A. native formerly known for his “surf techno” is no stranger to Desert Hearts, but this set catapulted him into the upper echelon of the entire Desert Hearts Hall of Fame. To cultivate an entire dancefloor’s experience is one thing; to know that your material can achieve that effect on its own is something else entirely.
Third time’s a charm. At this point it’s impossible to separate Desert Hearts from Atish and his distinct understanding of his gift of harmonious orchestration. The man understands the unique importance of the post-sunrise set — a moment in time hanging by a thread that might as well have its own subgenre. To intimately marry the last standing with the first-to-rise is a talent owned by very few. The San Francisco-based Manjumasi label owner has consistently proven an ability to extend a set late into the morning, but starting at his typical stopping point is a skill entirely different. The “post-sunrise set” isn’t the chaotic morning madness of the Burn and it’s not the carefully crafted warehouse experience he has already perfected. It’s something fragile and almost untameable. But left to his own devices, Atish is almost always in his element, riding high on the energy of his fans trusting the process.
The German DJ, now three-decades relevant, has lived a storied career that would serve better as the script to a movie than it would to reality. His ability to manipulate sound is unparalleled, and his attention to detail and attentiveness to the crowd is unmatched. DJ T laid out his set like a blueprint for the new schoolers to once again learn from, a perfect block of tracks that composed a sexy soundtrack for a plethora of party pagans beckoning the setting sun. I watched an audience bursting at the seams, gluttonously begging for more, and understood audio addiction on a level previously unknown. While we were left at the mercy of his fingertips, in awe of his commanding presence, the giant red orb fading behind him served as a halo capping what had become a cosmic monk’s last offering. Pray to the Desert Hearts gods that this set is one of their future releases.
For what was the most-anticipated set of the weekend, Dinger started off abstract and disjointed, something potentially necessary for an event three full days into mesmerizing and unwavering hypnotic house. The curveball was equally welcomed and questioned by a crowd that thankfully did not give up easily. This trust is not bestowed on just any DJ, but Dinger’s Berlin roots come with a fidelity earned by years of devotion to the craft. A mere three to four tracks into his Odyssian tale of a set, Dinger had the crowd back on its toes. The crowd ebbed and flowed with the fluidity of a human sea, the lights dancing off each crashing wave, like Hokusai’s “The Wave” masterpiece re-imagined in real time. It was as if they had all been left after the rapture and the memory of this set was their unholy reward.
Perhaps the biggest surprise of the weekend was Monday’s saturated summation of the weekend’s journey. No hippie manifestation of sunshine or last-ditch effort for an encore could stop the hands of time and the clouds’ stormy determination. When Mylo’s “Pressure” was dropped, like the barometric pressure seemingly foretelling the approaching weather, the crowd was in for something special. We were part of a new-school experiment successfully blurring the lines between reality and fantasy, inspiring positive change back in the default world. The incoming rain perfectly soundtracked by Simon & Garfunkel’s “The Sound of Silence” subtly revealed a crew left entirely depleted. They had literally given everything they had. But Desert Hearts is not just Mikey Lion, Lee Reynolds, Marbs and Porky. It was everyone present — a family of born-again degenerates, bonded by unwavering devotion, unlimited sincerity and eternal gratitude.