Leyenda Eterna: a treacherous descent into Cañon de Guadalupe
While I was not covering Leyeda Eterna for my typical publications, I still wanted to express my love for this event. For those that appreciate long-winded verbose visions without images, carry on below. Much love to Dru, JQ, and Chino for hosting our Soulestial family. Special shout-out to Aaron, Erin, and Purp of the Wulfpack clan for upping the campsite vibes and to Emily, Rei, and the Tasty Noodles for inviting us into their space. And of course to my Soulestial brothers and road dogs for life Luna and Frank.
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Few events exemplify the vibes and ethos of the Burn so closely and yet still remain so absolutely unique. Leyenda Eterna - a true desert oasis in every sense of the word - definitely fits in the family of Burn events and yet it exists as something entirely different. While the journey falls closer on the spectrum to a Jeep's test environment, due in part to the treacherous descent into Cañon de Guadalupe, the caliber of production and presentation together with the location's natural accommodations set it apart from its counterparts by leaps and bounds that don't go unnoticed. How many events hours from civilization can state that they offer hot spring-fed pools at nearly every campsite and waterfall hikes but still have running water and flushable toilets?
For the sake of disclosure, I have to admit that I was a first-time attendee, yet somehow I doubt my sentiments don't describe long-time Leyenda veterans' lasting feelings. I felt like family at the first greeting - an emotion that reverberated throughout the entire weekend. From the Mad Hatter sunset tea party detour perched high upon the rocks to the great golden orgy that emerged from the depths of the murky pool party, we were participating in a long-running psychedelic and spiritual experiment proven to shed years of societal shackles. This was an epiphany as much as it was a vacation.
The surreal setting was only magnified by the abundance of musical accouterments. Alejandro Luna expertly set the tone of the weekend with a deep tech set replete with Spanish language tracks sure to export your conscience far from the memory of a home beyond the border. The echos of his carefully selected set bounced off the canyon rocks, beckoning late-comers like a siren song meant just for us.
While everyone's trips traversed their own obstacles, both physical and imaginary, the night and coming sunrise descended perfectly into appropriate madness. Donald Thump's dark and enigmatic techno set made us forgive his poorly chosen name. In this case, ignorance really is bliss. Hearing his set through the Chinosound system rumbled me at my core, leaving only my sense of sight to appreciate the appropriate visuals. For me though, the standout set of my first 24 hours was Josh Kwon's sunrise set. It was as if his track selection was synchronized with the sun's coming arrival. Each new sound was more enticing than the last, a veritable smorgasbord of aural stimulation sure to satisfy the last of those still standing.
Day 2 brought untold wonders, unexpected highlights in a fully-stocked arsenal of 'fuck yeahs' and speechless moments. Joe Pea, with his hair seemingly teased by Da Brat, awakened the bounce laid dormant in all of us. Like petroglyphs seeing first light, his disciples danced in epic glimpses of housey enlightenment. I was immobile and yet simultaneously propelled full speed ahead. The pool's undulating waves soon gave way to full on hallucinations and the canyon took on a life of its own. From the pool's great commandments, misgivings, and downright Sodom and Gomorrah-worthy tales, came an appreciation of the unknown.
Our adventure was not free from unexpected turns and deviations. Thanks to the pocket sized self-described bubbly gangster Thug Shells, this humble harlequin suddenly brought a voice to the stage. Conscious rap straight out of Alberta, Canada, pre-packaged with sass and ass (likely adorned with "Fuck Trump" skivvies). With an emphasis on positivity, this little proselytizing pixie captivated a crowd of new fans in the only way she knows how: gangster adorability. If Hello Kitty and Tupac had a K-fueled three-way with Cardi B, Thug Shells would be their incarnation.
Fast forward through canyon-worthy time travel and Alice in Wonderland herself had shed her courteous gown for her dark techno alter ego Crescendoll. Like a soundtrack written for darkside degenerates, we found ourselves in an arena of hard-hitting bangers perfectly crafted for the witching hour. Down the rabbit hole we went with no end in sight, hypnotically falling under Crescendoll's spell. Her heavy techno sounds are more valuable by weight than gold or blood diamonds, and her insane techno remix of White Rabbit by Jefferson Airplane is to this day, the greatest fucking finale to a set I've ever heard. It was as if Quentin Tarantino was narrating a scene where his protagonist made sweet unadulterated love to the devil herself, their sweet screams forming music notes channeled through Crescendoll's fingertips. I would sell my soul to experience that set live again, knowing damn well what hell would soon follow.
My only regret of the weekend is that I wasn't able to stay through Sunday night for Jacques' notorious closing party. I guess some things are better left to the imagination. Until next year.