Oh hi, Desert Hearts! I’m so glad I met you, and this is crazy, but let’s be besties because I wanna keep that untz untz going.
One hundred hours of nonstop house, techno, and love at one of the most fun parties ever. Desert Hearts celebrated its third year anniversary with an unreal fall edition; this was my first Desert Hearts party and I was absolutely blown out of this mismatching psychedelic print universe with about a thousand variations of tech house popping at every minute.
I arrived Friday evening, fumbling around in the dark with my festival buddy, gear in hand and uncontainable excitement waiting to ruffle our feathers. We set up our tent in a half-blinded flash, then off we went straight into bunny-hop dancing in layers and furs with a proper bass-heavy introduction by Olivier Giacomotto at the midnight witching hour. It was like diving into a pool of peacocks and good vibes, every beautiful soul moving and grooving to the same wavelength and vibrations of the earth beneath us. We came for Monsieur Giacomotto and stayed for our Distrikt homie Ben Seagren before throwing in the cards for the night.
With what rabbit sleep I got Saturday morning, duty called at the Dance Safe booth where I got to wiggle in my seat during my shift from 6AM to 2PM, starting off Saturday morning with a nice cup of ambient tribal tech and feel-good music with Sabo & Goldcap and Adnan Sharif. Doc Martin picked it up at noon with some mad deep house tracks, providing a perfect transition into the signature banging kick sets courtesy of the Desert Hearts crew. Saturday was the dictionary definition of “FUN.”
The single stage setup made the festival a uniquely communal and unifying experience. You see the same familiar faces wherever you decide to hold down the fort, and everybody parties like there is no tomorrow because time becomes irrelevant and nothing stops you from being who you want to be for the weekend. This is what Desert Hearts and its community is all about. This gathering on the Los Coyotes Reservation is just a slice in the cake, a microcosm of the Playa with a dollop of that Southern Californian icing.
Free expression. Free love. Freedom.
Au revoir sweet mother load of poutine in forty degree weather. Hasta la vista (baby) bear hugs, furry cuddle puddles at Pile Palace, disco ball and laser heaven, and mad chilling and raging. Desert Hearts may be over but the memories of wild nights and dirty dancing and hippy shenanigans just keep coming closer to my bright little heart.