Every music festival is just a metaphor waiting to happen. And whether you want to compare it to a cornucopia, a mafia, or some kind of cult, one thing is clear: it’s impossible to narrow a festival down to just one thing. While a concert is simply about live music, a festival is a microcosm of shows, stages, food, drink, and yes, Porta-Potties. For those Orange County festival fiends that didn’t feel like trekking up to LA for FYF Festival but still wanted the festival experience this weekend, there was the Pacific Festival at the Triangle Square in Costa Mesa, a joint event with Sutra5.

The Triangle Square was decked out in blue astro turf and gauzy white fabric overhead, providing much appreciated shade for the audience at the Pacific Outdoor Stage, the main performance space at the event. Grouped around this space were bathrooms, a VIP bar, merch tables, food stands, and lounge areas. It was a comfortable set up, but this venue with two shapes for a name was not without issues. The festivities also took place in the nearby Sutra Lounge, making the most of the partnership with Sutra5. The Triangle Square is set up in a strip mall’s central plaza, and this mall-ish aspect created the need for a huge security staff that seemed to hover ominously over the audience. But this did not deter festivalgoers from drinking their fair share of light beer and weak cocktails.

It was quite a mix of people too: surf hipsters with sun-bleached mop tops, entry-level punks sweating in their black attire, heavily Botoxed moms, young ladies in shorts too tiny to be believed, and a few people who took Neon Indian as a literal influence on their attire, flaunting headdresses and tee shirts that hurt my eyes. It was almost heartwarming to see such a diverse mix of people gathered together for the same purpose of live music and day drinking. The vibe on day one was an underground frenzy at the Pacific Outdoor Stage. I arrived in the middle of the Classixx set and their songs provided a soundtrack to the building energy in the audience.

Classixx sounds the way Daft Punk would if they had had Garageband and Apple Loops at their disposal. It’s lots of arpeggios, quiet basslines, and familiar samples like Phoenix (we got a little taste of “So Sentimental” in their set), Major Lazer, and Shiny Toy Guns. When “I’ll Get You,” came on, the crowd was thrilled and gathered around the stage to dance and toss an inflatable Love Sheep in the air. This song experienced some viral Internet love a few months ago with their video featuring an American Apparel’d brunette babe frolicking at the seashore, so it felt like a great choice for the Costa Mesa crowd.

Almost immediately after Classixx had finished their set, Miami Horror took the stage and even more people gathered around just to get close to these handsome Aussie rockers. Since they didn’t spend time with a sound check, the mix was a little funky on the first song with the vocals overpowering all the other sound, but by their next song, everything was worked out and I was blown away by the playful 80’s vibe and musicianship of these guys. Their songs are always some incarnation of guitar, drums, bass, and a pair of keyboards, but who’s playing what is totally up in the air. They kept trading instruments like some musical do-si-do, but it was the singer’s vibrancy and the versatility of their set that captivated the audience and I. His enthusiasm and stage presence translated into audience excitement and by the time they brought out the cowbells, I was totally smitten. After all, there’s no such thing as too much cowbell. The drummer kept everything right in the pocket musically, and the singer got the audience to roar as he scaled the scaffolding on the right side of the stage. The smell of beer and cigarettes was concentrating around me, but it wasn’t altered states of consciousness that had everyone hooked on these cute, emaciated-looking rock hipsters from half a world away. Their sound was the perfect mix of all the musical stylings that we got in day one of Pacific Festival: sparkly, fun electro pop and all the raw excitement of a good electric guitar solo. Even though The Sounds were supposed to be a bigger attraction, they had a lot to live up to after Miami Horror’s set.

Maja Ivarsson, the Blondie/Katy Perry lovechild lead singer of The Sounds, managed to be both tough and very polite towards her fans. I’ve never been called a “motherfucker” so many times as I was during The Sounds’ performance, but she also thanked us frequently for coming out to see their show. The overall effect ended up being pretty charming and you can tell that she has mastered the art of stage presence during her long career. Her eensy weensy black hot pants probably didn’t hurt the crowd’s approval, either. The sun was setting throughout their set and pretty soon it was time to turn up the stage lights, and The Sounds’ natural habitat definitely involves flashing lights and screaming crowds. Their energy picked up once the setting felt more like a nighttime show and the audience fed off of their passion.

Something about their performance was like Peter Pan on crack – the impish Tinkerbell lead singer with her backup band of lost boys, screaming at the audience about the dissatisfaction of youth like they’re never gonna grow up. By the end of the set, we found out that this was their last show in the US before returning to Sweden to cut their fourth album. This explained why Ivarsson seemed so intent on getting as much audience interaction as possible, chit chatting, screaming, and throwing the mic at them over and over in one of the most epic bits of showmanship that I’ve ever seen. In one of their last songs (which I think was used in a Geico caveman commercial but I’m not sure), the drummer busted out a solo that made my eyeballs pop out of my head it was so good – I wished that we’d seen more of him earlier on. After their last song, the crowd was tingling in the afterglow, demanding one more song. The Sounds obliged but only asking us “How bad do you want it?” and flicking Ivarsson’s cigarette into the adoring crowd. Overall, they delivered a great set and definitely made the most of their last live show before bringing us more grimy yet glittery pop rock goodness with their upcoming album.

After The Sounds, the audience was visibly woozy from a day of mimosas, beer, and Grey Goose with Red Bull. We were getting to the home stretch of day one at Pacific Festival, and it was time to guzzle some Vitamin Water and prepare for the main event: Steve Aoki. People were shoving pulled pork sandwiches into their faces, hoarding around the public toilets, and stumbling into security guards like it was going out of style. I’m pretty sure that one especially boozy couple standing next to me broke up during this calm before the Aoki storm. He came onstage with a hefty entourage, took the DJ booth, and right away there was earsplitting feedback coming through the speakers. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t freaked out. Would he live up to the hype? Would my fellow festivalgoers pass out before his set even began? Did someone just stroke my hair? But only a moment later, an incredible vibration shook the Triangle Square to its core. Did all of our iPhones just start vibrating at the same time? No, Steve Aoki was ready to dazzle us.

The great thing about Aoki’s music is the distinction and depth of his mixes. Everything he does feels so complex and premeditated when you hear his recordings, it’s hard to imagine how it could get much better, even if he is standing right in front of you, iconic moustache and all. But when his music came through the speakers at enormous volumes, the entire audience was overcome. We huddled around the stage as close as we could get, he held his arms up in the air and raised his face to the sky, delicately pulsing his movements to the beat that was putting the rest of us in a trance. The best thing about this show was already frightfully apparent: the contrast between Aoki’s mellow demeanor and the controlled chaos of his beats. He shuffled around the stage like a grandpa in slippers, so serene and cavalier, only breaking from this attitude to toss someone into a crowd surf, scream maniacally into the mic, or spray champagne onto his fans. At one especially intense moment, giant pieces of paper confetti shot out and rained down on the audience. It was total live show bliss.

Like his “I’m In The House,” hit album, his set kept looping back to those familiar beats and samples, No chord or sound of Aoki’s could be called simple; he uses lots of octaves to add intense harmonic depth, and is never afraid to suddenly warp his synths for a perfect transition into his next track. We got previews for an upcoming work with Travis Barker, which was an eerie mix of diminished chords and clock sounds. If I have any complaints, it’s that his set was over too quickly. He kept looping back to this “Up, up up!” line, building a wall of sound over and over again, and when his set ended, the event itself didn’t deliver from Aoki’s build up.

The bars were open, sure, but the festival was slated to continue until 2 am and we’d already hit the climax. There were other DJs to come, including DJ DC who was woozily trying to break the world record for consecutive hours DJing, but it didn’t seem worth staying for when I had day two to look forward to.

The second day of the Pacific Festival was perfectly suited to all the hangovers from day one. I arrived right before the Aggrolites and basked in the beach party vibe. Everyone was casual, the music was mellow, and even the heat from the day before had cooled off into a perfect, breezy Costa Mesa day. All I was missing was a drink with an umbrella in it.

I felt this lack of an umbrella beverage even more as soon as the Aggrolites started playing. I mean, here was a group of guys that looked like dads in matching black button ups and sunglasses. They sort of looked like they were getting ready to go to a bowling tournament until they started sipping their Newcastles and chatting with the crowd. Coming off of a full day of electro kickassery, I was kind of blindsided by this reggae group and I think the crowd was too, but they got into it eventually. Then again, to call the Aggrolites “reggae,” is an extreme injustice because what they’re doing is much more. It’s like Little Richard and Jimmy Buffett  listening to rockabilly on a beach while drinking cold Jager. It’s awesome, but more than that, it’s fun and it feels good to listen and dance to. Their keyboard was housed in a rolling trunk and it sounded funky and whimsical, almost circusy. They had a great festival spirit and got the crowd all geared up for the Expendables, but they weren’t too out of control about it – their attitudes and their music were just right for the occasion.

During the lull between the Aggrolites and the Expendables, I decided to venture from the main stage and the MC (who reminded me too much of the blonde guy from Insane Clown Posse) and made my way to the White Room stage to catch a bit of Pacific Dub’s set. This band is a couple local boys and they’ve put together an agreeable reggae-ish combo. I didn’t expect such awesome musicianship from guys who look like high schoolers, but each of their songs was remarkably different and, even more remarkably, extremely fun to listen to and watch. The guitarist/lead singer had the best voice that I heard all day and the band as a whole was bringing in a ton of different influences to make a really unique sound. They were casual with the audience and each other, but people were migrating to go see The Expendables by the end of their set, so I felt bummed for them. I’m not too concerned though, I expect great things from these guys in the very near future.

The Expendables are a self-proclaimed blend of reggae, punk, and 80’s. When I read this on my iPhone I was understandably a little skeptical. The answer ended up being pretty easy: Sublime. The Expendables seem to have picked up in 1997 where Sublime left off in 1996, and Costa Mesa couldn’t have loved it any more. Their music, for better or worse, put me right back in Junior High when my friends and I were just discovering this type of music, and this was the first time I’d seen anything like it live and I was not disappointed. Their stage presence was exceptional, but even more outstanding was the music itself.  Their guitar solos were absolutely impeccable and their command of the pedals at their feet was way impressive. They played “old school” songs, drank Jager from a plastic Kirkland water bottle, and turned the reverb up to eleven. Their last song “Sacrifice,” highlighted both their showmanship and musical abilities and definitely appeased all of their fans.

Finally, it was Rebelution time. The crowd was ready. I was ready. And after a little soundcheck, Rebelution had the crowd by the ear. Everyone had their arms up in the air, bouncing along to their powerful basslines. It’s hard to describe Rebelution’s sound. Their lead singer’s voice is so crisp and clear that he almost sounds auto-tuned, and they’re a little more hardcore than your regular reggae group, as evidenced by the “metal” song that the crowd was more than happy to cheer for. Their drum set was absolutely incredible – the drummer was practically engulfed by the variety of cymbals all around him. I might be wrong here, but I thought that the lead singer also had a bunch of pedals hooked up to his vocal mic and that he was adding different effects on different choruses and bridges. This demonstrates a really admirable awareness of equipment as well as his own voice and music and I was mighty impressed. Smoke was rising into the air, people were dancing and spinning, the lights were flashing and the keyboard was raging: it was like an electric parade in Jamaica and I was loving every minute of it. They casually asked the audience how they were doing between songs, the answer was always a wild cheer. The set was over all too soon and the festival seemed to dissipate like the pungent clouds of smoke from the start of Rebelution’s set. It was slightly anticlimactic, but it had been a good, long day.

That’s another difference between concerts and festivals. Leaving a concert, it’s always on a high note. After the indubitable encore, the crowd pours out of a stadium, totally abuzz with the set list, the equipment, the stage setup, and all the events of the night. But at a festival, you’re dead tired and your favorite act wasn’t necessarily the last one you saw. It’s a price you pay, but the benefits are great, and that’s what I experienced at Pacific Festival. I got to see a ton of awesome acts, I was exposed to cool, new groups, and I got to spend two days rubbing elbows with people who just wanted to have fun and enjoy great live music. While people were sweating, complaining, and waiting in lines at FYFest, those of us OC residents who opted for the Pacific Festival got two comfortable days of music, food, and all the fun of a good music festival right in our own backyard.

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