Music
Once a bellwether for new trends in the music industry, Coachella now feels like the last word in establishment thinking. By Shaad D’Souza.
What Coachella says about the music industry
Coachella is, undeniably, the single most important music festival in the world. Take “important” with a heavy side of scepticism: it is important as a mainstream pop cultural and public relations engine, an easy way to work out which stars of contemporary music are actually drawing crowds, who might be in a larger typeface size on the poster this time next year and who truly blew up in the six months between the festival’s line-up announcement and the event actually taking place.
For artists, there is no bigger stage on which to hawk your wares, telegraph a “levelling up” or take a victory lap. Beyoncé’s epochal 2018 headline performance totally changed the nature of festival headline sets – she performed with a full marching band in an elaborate, career-spanning show – and also served as a potted history of Black American popular music over the previous 60 years, signalling her career pivot towards albums that are long, elaborate and densely historical. Last year, Tyler, The Creator and Lana Del Rey’s headline sets pointed to the pop music industry’s new reliance on cult stars with massive fan bases but relatively niche appeal, while Frank Ocean’s disastrous 2023 set – during which he was barely visible to the crowd – saw goodwill evaporate among his fanbase.
The fact that Coachella also boasts an impressive livestream set-up – both weekends of the festival have been broadcast free on YouTube for many years now – means it also serves as an incredible advertisement for any artists lucky enough to stream their sets. If you’re touring the rest of the year, a good set can sell out the remainder of your shows. On the other hand, a bad show can sour your reputation among live music fans for a long time to come. Although it serves a uniquely mass-market audience – I don’t think it’s unfair to say this is not the kind of festival that draws “music people”, which I discovered when I was there in 2018 and found most sets outside the main stages were relatively sparsely attended – Coachella is still the music festival that has most impact on the outside world.
That being said, doesn’t it all seem a little rote this year? Although the announcement of Lady Gaga as this year’s first headliner was exciting, given the intense, pure commitment she gives to live shows, the fact that Post Malone and Green Day filled the other two slots felt almost ominous – a throwback to the days when festival headliners were exclusively bands such as Muse or Guns N’ Roses. Except, wait – Guns N’ Roses headlined Glastonbury a couple of years back.
The festival’s undercard, boasting names like Lisa and Jennie of K-pop superstars Blackpink, both of whom released underwhelming solo albums this year, and Megan Thee Stallion, whose pandemic-era hitmaker status has since vaporised, also felt like safe plays. The most exciting names on the line-up – indie-pop singer Clairo, having a moment with a hugely popular vintage-soul-inspired 2024 album; Charli XCX, arguably the most headliner-feeling act on the Saturday; rap legend Missy Elliott, who last year completed what was, amazingly, her first ever headline tour – have also been touring for the better part of the past year, meaning that even if they had surprises set for the weekend, their shows themselves likely would be known quantities.
Watching the Coachella livestream over the weekend still proved to be reliable fun, a deeply enjoyable way to while away hungover hours on the weekend and perfect fodder for discussion with friends. But it also suggested that perhaps the industry is lacking ideas, with many of the festival’s sets feeling familiar or even a tad dull.
Lady Gaga’s Friday night set was, as expected, a triumph, even if its relatively narrow purview – she only performed songs from four of her six solo albums, totally ignoring 2020’s sharp and underrated Chromatica – was an egregious oversight. Showcasing songs from her latest record, Mayhem, Gaga turned the Coachella main stage into what she described as an opera house in the desert – a gesture that was intended, she said, to emphasise the power of art and beauty in times of strife.
Although the show’s narrative was a little fuzzy – something about good versus evil – it was still totally spectacular: “Paparazzi”, from her 15-year-old debut album, became an epic ballad during which Gaga hobbled on crutches in Dune-like armour and stood, wearing a massive cape, in front of a gigantic fan. The crutches were one of a few moments that appeared to reference her ongoing health struggles. The songs from Mayhem, an album of funky disco tracks that is a little light in comparison with some of her harsher, more invigorating work, sounded beefy in this context, seemingly designed with a live band and a wild crowd in mind.
Other moments, such as a performance of “Poker Face” on a chess board, served as a reminder that festival performances are designed for the screen. In a 100,000-strong crowd, you cannot see the kind of detail that these performers are delivering. For most people at music festivals, the experience is that of watching a gigantic screen with your friends, listening to an ear-damagingly loud PA system.
Some performers seemed aware of this. Charli XCX’s show, a minimalist assault on the senses that featured only herself and guest verses from Troye Sivan, Lorde and Billie Eilish, plays better live than it does on a livestream. While it may be fun to watch her crawl in the direction of a camera and scream gutturally, it is the kind of show that prioritises dancing wildly, perhaps with shut eyes to avoid the constant strobes, rather than pausing in order to take in all the detail.
The most underwhelming sets of the festival delivered neither detail nor visceral thrills. Travis Scott, closing out Saturday night, sounded listless even as he delivered his trademark “rage”, songs from his latest album, Utopia, failing to connect in the way that his hits once did. And Green Day’s admirably political show – there were references to children in Palestine and the “MAGA agenda” – did not benefit from the fact that Billie Joe Armstrong’s voice is not a particularly strong live asset. Although the band still sells out stadiums, the relatively sparse crowd shots suggested it was not the right fit for a festival such as this.
Post Malone, touring a country record, was a consummate showman, but his set, which highlighted older hits, also served as a reminder that he only regained cultural cachet once he pivoted into country music, which does not generally do well at Coachella. His Sunday night headline slot confirmed an idea that’s been looming for a couple of years now: the festival that once served as a bellwether for the year in music now feels like the final word in establishment thinking.
This article was first published in the print edition of The Saturday Paper on April 16, 2025 as "Predictable fun".
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