Why You Won’t Find Me At #FPSF 2017

The doors have been open for just about an hour now… 

This is the first year over the past 6 years that I won't be attending #FPSF. I've been to every one since 2011, it's the quintessential beginning of true summer for me, being that I've been a Houstonian since 2011. I have a sentimental attachment to the tradition of it all, but this year you won’t find me out there at Eleanor Tinsley, and while a little part of me gets wistful with nostalgia, I’m not that hung up about it for a few good reasons. First, I’m currently in Galveston celebrating a friend’s 30th birthday, and I’m hoping that I get to make it to the AIA sandcastle competition! But more related to why I’m not that upset about having conflicting plans, here are all the reasons FPSF is losing favor of opportunity costs: 

Sellout Status. 

FPSF started out as a local event promoted by Omar Afra of Free Press Houston fame and friends. After a tragic loss of a young life in 2016, it came to light that the original production crew had sold majority stakes to C3, which was later acquired by LiveNation. Don’t get me wrong, I love LiveNation festivals. You can find me at ACL every year, and Voodoo Fest was a staple of my come uppance, and I’ve been to EDC (mind-blowing), and was supposed to go to Bonaroo in 2015. I'm actually kind of sad I didn't spring for the LiveNation festival passport, which would have saved me a lot of money. Clearly I have nothing against corporate festivals, but not for nothing, Houstonians are fiercely proud of our city. It’s apparent in brands like FYHA that we love our city, and all things local. We have some of the best restaurants, artists, and urban spaces in the world, and we’re this super cool mishmash of eclectic and diverse individuals and cultures, so when you hear that something local, just is not any longer, it breaks a little piece of your heart. I had the same reaction to the Karbach news. Although, Day for Night did come out of the sale, and it was one of the coolest festivals I’ve ever been to. I’ve been looking for updates for what’s going down in 2017, and I’ve yet to see anything, but I’m curious how they will pull it off again, as I heard that the abandoned post office was bought by a real estate developer. 

The Weather. 

No one can control the weather, I get that, but at the same time, we’re in Houston, and we have notoriously shit weather. It just so happens that the first few years of FPSF we were in a drought, which made for great, hot and dry (less the humidity) festival weather. We’re not in adrought any longer and it’s been quite the brain trauma trying to figure out how to navigate the festival. With venue changes and having to worry about sinking stages at Eleanor Tinsley and turning the whole park into a muddy battle ground, plus having to leave the festival grounds and go back in on a few occasions, it’s just too much and it becomes not fun. Although we did get a few minutes to watch some NBA playoff action at the Duck Off, it was just annoying to have to wait for festival updates on whether or not we would be allowed back in, etc. The forecast for today was supposed to be for clouds and late afternoon thunderstorms. It seems to be looking more favorable at this point, but I’ve got weather post traumatic stress at this point. 

The venue. 

Free Press summer Fest started out in Eleanor Tinsley park and it was small and comfortable, even though it was hot af. Back in the good ol’ days there even used to be so few people that they even had a slip and slide down the side of the hill in front of one of the main stages. I think it might have been Saturn. Food trucks would line Allen Parkway, and you could easily walk between stages. Then in 2014 the festival hit critical mass, and it was almost impossible move between stages at Eleanor Tinsley, I only went on Sunday that year, but I hear I didn’t miss much on Saturday because of the mid-day rainouts, but then everything turned into a muddy mess. 

The Talent. 

This year’s lineup is seriously lacking. After years with Willie Nelson, Snoop Dogg, Alabama Shakes, Calvin Harris (in his prime), and Jack White, I imagine that many artists got wind of what’s happened the last couple of years, and just didn’t even want to bother. I almost feel a little sorry for Lorde and Flume. Especially considering that when I tried to see Flume at Coachella in 2014, I couldn’t even get to the stage, so I just gave up… I’ve seen him since, don’t worry. 

The crowd.

For the past few years, I’m walking through the crowd having Dazed and Confused moments where I’m looking at the sea of teens walking between stages and it’s like, “I keep getting older, and they stay the same age.” I feel like there are a lot of entitled Houstonian high schoolers out there who have zero festival etiquette. They push and shove and elbow their way through crowds, and clearly don’t understand the rules of time or spatial physics. Dear annoying kids with no manners, if I have been standing here for 30 minutes waiting to watch the next show, I am occupying a certain area of space. What makes you think there is a) space in front of me for you, b) that anyone really cares that “your friend is up there,” and c) that because I’ve been waiting here for 30 minutes to see a band that probably existed before you were born, that I want a less favorable position to see them than you will have. Maybe it’s also just me getting old and crotchety, but I don’t remember acting like that at Jazz Fest and Voodoo Fest. 

The Conclusion

Next year is the 10 year anniversary of FPSF. I’m hoping that this year will be a wake up call and that they get their act together. I’m not sure what the right answer is to rectify the issues. Whether it’s to move the date? Whether it’s to make sure it stays at Eleanor Tinsley and limit ticket sales? It’s a conundrum that I wouldn’t want to have to make a decision about, but I’m looking forward to hopefully making a triumphant return next year. 

If you want to read about my past experiences at FPSF stay tuned because I’ll be posting experiences from the past six years.