”You’re gonna love the Silent Disco” Says one camper to another while they fumble through the packaging of a shiny new tent.
“Oh, it’s just the best. Isn’t it?” A neighbor chimes in.
From dance battles to ping pong tourneys, to group tattoo sessions and limbo contests, the campgrounds at Coachella 2024 packed some of the most magical, albeit low-budget experiences available at the festival. Like a first hug from a fellow festie or the search for something to eat while your inner gremlin is clamoring to hit a dance floor, finding your tribe at the silent disco is perhaps the most prized experience at the festival next to meeting a celebrity or finagling your way backstage.
When I first started going to Coachella 11 years ago Silent Disco had already achieved a sort of rave lore. It was talked about like a rite of passage for first time festival goers. I thought it uncanny that something so simple could be so special, when elsewhere on the Polo fields so much attention is directed towards curating big acts onstage and epic light shows. Somehow Silent Disco has never needed all that to be the stuff Coachella dreams are made of. Like an unwritten code for first-timers and veterans of the event, attendance at least a few nights of each weekend is practically mandatory.
Introverts love it too because it offers participants the choice to take their headphones off for a conversation or keep them on and get lost in the grooves.
I still couldn’t believe such a special experience could be so simple, so I set out to get a closer look. I took on a job in Goldenvoice’s Campground Operations to work hand in glove with Hush Concert’s Silent Disco team. I thought the raving hullabaloo surrounding it would be attributed to the time it takes place or the stylish anthems and ballads that the DJs include in their sets. What I discovered surprised me.
I didn’t spot a wizard when I peeked behind the curtain, but I did find a renewed admiration for the incredible humans who work in service to the great parties of our time.
Getting to know the team was like landing on Gillian’s Island, only Gillian had sprouts on his hat and carried a stuffed giraffe. Leadership was delegated by two men, one was tall and boisterous and the other the other was short and angsty. Visually, both were interesting characters. One appeared and behaved like a Chicano Donald Trump with a short fuse and glittery sequins. The other wore goodwill sweatshirts and a ball cap with his eyebrows tucked under the brim. Despite his appearance, he never once challenged me to a Pokémon battle. Both leaders kept an otherwise runaway train on the tracks while the 10 or so workers took turns showing eachother the most efficient ways to clean, charge, and distribute the headphones were the muscle of the operation.
Each night it became clearer that it was the diligence and sacrifice of these souls simply showing up that made Silent Disco the special thing that it is. Our two leaders were capable and they did the calculous of timelines, inventory, and attrition rates, but — hands down — it’s the ability of frontline workers to be courteous and upbeat that can turn a rough night around. One could even argue their impact is actually even more noteworthy because they’re doing it while sacrificing opportunities to see No Doubt, Lana Del Rey, Tyler, the Creator, and more.
When I noticed the sacrifices many were making all for Coachella’s most magical stage for first-time festival goers, I realized it takes a certain level of eccentricity to sign up for such a gig. Almost the entire team was returning staff and had worked for the Silent Disco before. Despite the shifts requiring each of them to surrender the best parts of the show inside the festival, they instead chose peak evening call times and monotonous tasks like plugging in headsets to recharge. Imagine choosing to spend an evening cleaning headphones with Lysol wipes instead of seeing Gwen Stefani belt out punk anthems only a 5 minute walk away.
When doors opened at the Silent Disco all the effort made sense. Every fraction of efficiency made the stampede of patrons a little easier to help.
“Can I get one for my friend?” Buzzed new arrivals.
“How do they work?” Some would say perplexed, still sweating from the evenings debauchery.
“Well, they’re headphones you see…” My sarcasm couldn’t help it.
”Grab and go. Keep moving!” Barked the manager.
The excitement sparked heated exchanges too.
Fights would break out. At one point a woman started hurling headphones into a crowd behind her. There were even times security had to climb over tables to maintain order.
Suffice it to say, the magnetic qualities of the Silent Disco experience were as strong as ever. The weird ones were ever present too.
Nearby food vendors serving late noms like pizza, breakfast burritos, and chicken fingers kept crowds energized, before and after the festival so for campers it came to represent a sort of social hub, but when the moon rose in the sky and the stages wound down Silent Disco became the most poppin’ place to be.
Relentless and steady, the pace on the shuffling dance floor didn’t let up until around 3 or 4am most nights. At which point, satisfied and spent, attendees would toss their headset into the bin with a smile, perhaps remembering that there would only be a few hours to sleep before the Sun came up.
Then it would be time to do it all over again.