Coachella Ain’t Shit … (and it Hasn’t Been Since Like, at Least 2016)

I’m sorry, I’m going to sound like a rickety old bitch, but …

Coachella is not what it used to be.

Before ANY of you come at me saying “but Mia you’ve never even been to the West Coast” YEAH I KNOW, okay? I’ll admit it, I’ve never been, but Coachella has mad reach, even all the way to little old me in the little old Midwest. So with that being said, no, I’ve never been to Coachella, I’ve only experienced through various screens. I’ve watched performances live, read endless articles, and viewed endless TikToks, Stories, posts of all kind.

With all that being said, as a lover of music and .ᐟ꩜°⋆fun⋆ ° ꩜.ᐟ, I’m certain I may change my tune if I were to go in person and enjoy all there is to see and hear (and eat). (Though given what I’ve seen of the traffic, camping, and crowd situation … idk.)

The purpose of this isn’t to trash on something a LOT of people really enjoy (I LOVE a lot of things that a LOT of people love, if you ever want to discuss Hello Kitty or pro-wrestling, just let me know.) Rather, this is watching something that used to feel exciting, pop-cultural, and genuinely fun slowly turn into a highly curated brand activation with a music festival happening somewhere in the background.

… because at this point, Coachella isn’t really about music.

It’s about visibility, branding, and cha-chiiiiiiiing.

When Coachella Was Actually About Music (Yes, Really)

Let’s take it back to 2016 for a second. (*record scratch, VHS rewinding sound effect here*)

That year’s lineup? It made sense. It reflected what people were actually listening to and excited about at the time. You had Calvin Harris, LCD Soundsystem, and Guns N' Roses headlining. A little EDM, a little indie revival, a little legacy rock. It felt balanced.

The undercard? Stacked in a way that felt organic. A$AP Rocky, Sia, The 1975, Halsey. Artists who were either peaking or about to.

It wasn’t trying to be everything for everyone. It was just … good.

… and the energy matched.

People went for the music and experience. Yes, they dressed up, yes, they posted pictures, but the conversation wasn’t dominated by “who invited who” or “what brand flew you out?”

It was, “Did you see that set?” “Did you see Vanessa Hudgens’ flower crown?” “This is fun.”

Wild concept.

Fast Forward to Now … What Are We Even Doing?

Now let’s look at recent Coachella lineups.

They feel like a playlist someone made after hitting shuffle on every genre imaginable. Like, Spotify “smart shuffle” AI DJ bad.

It’s less about cultural relevance and more about casting the widest possible net. Pop, rap, EDM, indie, Latin, K-pop, legacy acts, random throwbacks, all mashed together. Not because it tells a story, but because it sells tickets.

To be clear, I love diversity in music genres. My playlists reflect that. Sometimes I’m feeling Bad Bunny, sometimes I’m feeling Green Day, maybe a little Gogol Bordello or some Cardi B or some Stravinsky or Conway Twitty or even the Hamster Dance. It’s not that I don’t think that artists from genres all over, the WORLD over, shouldn’t be platformed on the Coachella stage. It’s about telling stories through music and whether a line-up is “cohesive” or not, it should feel authentic.

The suits behind the Coachella brand understand that if you can pull in five different audiences, you can market to all of them, you can sell to all of them, you can justify higher sponsorship rates.

It’s less “this is the sound of the moment” and more “how many demographics can we monetize at once?” … and you can feel it.

There’s no cohesion of any kind, no identity, no sense of “this is what Coachella stands for musically right now.”

It’s giving … corporate playlist, like if somebody’s elder millennial aunt grabbed the aux cord connected to a Sephora’s speaker system.

The Influencer Takeover

Now let’s talk about the real headliners: the influencers.

Not even in a shady way (I MEAN it), just in a factual, observational way.

Coachella has become one of the biggest influencer playgrounds on the planet.

Brands fly creators out, pay for their outfits, style their looks, book their accommodations, plan their content schedules.

Everything, EVERYTHING, is orchestrated.

It’s worth noting; influencer marketing works. It’s effective, it totally makes sense from a business standpoint … but when it becomes the main event? That’s when things start to feel off.

Now, instead of people going to experience the festival, they’re going to produce content about or even for the festival.

The goal isn’t to be present, it’s to capture and capitalize.

Sponsored Everything

You can’t talk about modern Coachella without talking about sponsorships, there are brand activations everywhere.

Experiential tents, pop-ups, “immersive experiences,” photo ops that are very obviously designed to be posted.

Again, branding has always been part of festivals, that’s not new, what’s new is how central it’s become.

At this point, it truly feels like the music is the side quest and the brands branding are the main storyline.

People are more excited to get into an exclusive sponsored lounge than to catch a full set.

They’re asking:

“Who sponsored your trip?”

“What brand are you wearing?”

“What are you drinking and who’s it from?”

It’s less about the experience and more about the inventory.

Fashion Has Entered Its Try-Hard Era

Festival fashion has always been a thing, and it used to be fun, like, really fun.

A little boho, a little weird, a little thrown together but still intentional. People experimenting, expressing themselves, not taking it too seriously. Now? It’s a full production.

Outfits are planned weeks in advance, styled by professionals, coordinated with brand deals, and designed to go viral.

The pressure is intense.

You have to look effortless … but not too effortless … cool … but not like you’re trying too hard … original … but still on trend.

It’s exhausting just thinking about it, and the conversation around fashion has shifted too.

It’s not “that outfit is cool,” It’s; “what brand is that,” “who styled you,” “was that gifted,” “who are you with.”

The individuality is gone, it’s all strategy.

Who Are You There With?

Another thing that’s changed? Social currency.

It’s not just about being at Coachella, it’s about who you’re there with.

Which influencers, which celebrities, which circles you’re moving in, the more nepo-babies, the better.

It’s networking disguised as partying, clout disguised as connection. Once again, none of this is brand new, social hierarchies have always existed, but now it’s amplified, documented, and measured in likes, views, and comments.

Your experience is only as valuable as how it performs online.

We Lost the Plot

Somewhere along the way, we stopped asking, “was the music good?” and instead started asking, “how did your post do?”

Music festivals used to be about discovery, about stumbling into a set you didn’t plan to see and leaving obsessed with a new artist, about being sweaty, a little tired, surrounded by people, fully in the moment (even if they did take a few pics with their phones.)

Now it’s all about getting the perfect photo, hitting the right parties, being seen in the right places, and wearing the right things

The music is still happening … obviously (I think?) But it’s not the main character anymore.

Why 2016 Still Felt Different

Let’s circle back to 2016 for a second, because it really was a turning point. Influencers existed, yes, but they weren’t the entire ecosystem.

Brand deals were there, but they weren’t suffocating everything, fashion was fun, not hyper-strategized, and most importantly, the music still felt like the reason people were there.

You had big moments, memorable performances, sets that people talked about for weeks.

There was still a sense of discovery, a sense of “you had to be there,” now it’s more like … “you had to post it.”

The Monetization of ~Vibes~

At the end of the day, this is what it comes down to; everything, EVERYTHING, about Coachella has been monetized.

The music, the fashion, the experience, the people … even the vibe.

The awful truth of it all is: once something becomes that monetized, it’s really hard to keep it feeling authentic, because every decision starts to be filtered through one question: “How can we make more money from this?” Not: “How can we make this better for the people?”

Can It Be Saved?

Honestly? That’s a tough one. Coachella is still wildly successful. The name alone gives pause. It sells out, it trends, it dominates social media every year.

From a business perspective, it’s doing exactly what it’s supposed to do. But from a cultural perspective? It’s lost something.

That feeling of being part of something bigger than yourself … that sense of community centered around music … could it come back? Maybe.

If there was a shift back toward prioritizing artists, performances, and actual experiences over optics and branding. If people started caring more about what they’re hearing than what they’re wearing. If brands took a step back and let the festival breathe a little.

… but that would require a collective shift. Not just from organizers, but from attendees, influencers, and audiences at home.

Coachella isn’t completely ruined, of course, the music is still there, the artists are still performing, people are still having fun … but it’s different. It’s more polished, more strategic, more focused on selling than experiencing, and for a lot of people, that shift has taken away the magic.

Festivals were never supposed to feel like a marketing campaign, they were supposed to feel like freedom … and somewhere between the brand deals, the curated outfits, and the influencer guest lists …

we lost that.