The S.S. Coachella? Here Are Five More Options For The Displaced Festival

Because we'd rather brave a Mars expedition than suffer another weekend in Indio.

Coachella has just announced that they’ll be ditching their Indio desert dwelling this winter for a luxury cruise experience. This is amazing, because picturing James Murphy attempting to get through a DJ set on the open sea is immediately hilarious. I just really like the idea of Coachella becoming more and more like Disney World vacation resort, which got me thinking: what other expensive vacation initiatives could Coachella expand out to? Where could their brand go? I came up with some really dumb ideas.


I mean, this is probably the most obvious answer. You ship a few thousand disaffected, fashionable people out to the middle of the Sahara, where they camp, hunt, and travel in a giant zebra-print bus. Just imagine how radical that Girl Talk set would be in the middle of an inter-species watering hole? It’d also be really funny to see all the Westerners trying their best to not look uncomfortable.


Kinda like the cruise, except instead of the Bahamas, you end up at the North Pole. You get to see Hot Chip perform in full Eskimo gear and at least three people die. This would be cool because, if things go wrong, there’s a chance you’d have to eat other people, which would be the most hardcore concert story ever. Also, there's the potential to discover the burgeoning Greenland indie-rock scene.


I guess this would be more suited for Bonnaroo, because that’s generally the primary festival for dreadlocked, pseudo-spiritual white dudes, which is basically the target demographic of people who’d willingly go on a walkabout. But if Coachella put a Phish triple-set at the end of an ancient, shamanistic quest for existential fulfillment, they’d make so much goddamn money.


Since the space program still doesn’t have the balls to send people to Mars, we’ll have to rely on an arrogant, multi-million dollar organization to push mankind deeper into the final frontier. The hardest part about this would be finding the bands dumb enough to play a show in space, but you just know The Flaming Lips would be so down.


Okay, so this isn’t a vacation, but if you spent money to watch Pulp play a fancy velvet party, and then—halfway through—Jarvis Cocker gets murdered, and then you spent the rest of the night snooping around your fellow concert-goers, I would totally, unironically be down.