There’s something pretty remarkable about the hedonism that develops during long summer days at music festivals. Fans from all over the world gather on crowded campgrounds with little to no knowledge of who their neighbours are in order to experience music together and be a part of a temporary community of so-called revelers.

As inhabitants of Generation Q, we have grown accustomed to a certain type of civility in our daily lives. We live in concrete jungles, eat healthy food, go to the gym, and make sure to document it all to show off to whomever is paying attention in the cyber world. With this kind of routine-based and technologically immersive lifestyle, it is only natural to try and come together to satisfy a need for belonging in real life, outside of the internet.

With the sudden surge in these congregations that now provide more entertainment than just live bands, a fairly obvious question to ask is why they are so popular. I had always thought people attended these events for the love of the music, but after years as a regular festival-goer, it’s clear to me that it’s not just about the music. Why then are people willing to live a port-a-potty life while seemingly going broke from beer and food prices only to be left with a somewhat empty sound lost in the open festival air?

FOMO has become a part of our daily lives and is triggered by our hypervigilant social media check ups. Getting offline for a minute and putting yourself in the thick of the occasion can be refreshing and reassuring, even if you suffer from a bit of social agoraphobia. Experiencing live music with a likeminded community of people makes you feel as if you’re a part of something meaningful and stimulating. It’s about sharing and consuming the experience through all of your senses.

This summer, I managed to get out to a few of these festivals and made sure to constantly pick people’s brains about why they like or dislike coming to these types of social gatherings. I spoke with everyone from security guards to models working at the events, to young families and middle-aged friends just trying to enjoy their summers. I also got artists’ opinions about performing at the festivals, and even justifications from friends who refused to “waste” their money on “noise pollution.”

There are many complaints that can be made about festivals. They can be over-crowded, expensive, unsanitary, poorly organized, and have little to no cell phone reception. All things that are almost unavoidable at big gatherings of any type, but they are all instances you can work around and deal with if you prepared properly.

There is a certain sense of brotherhood that’s created from being able to live through the roller coaster ride that is the outdoor musical festival, ranging from misery to euphoria. It’s a rite of passage in ways and a feeling I often seek out when I go to other concerts now. I’ve lived through stage-collapses, hurricane fronts, diva performers, broken bones, lost cell phones, drug poisonings, desert heat waves, and stolen tents. But on the other side of things, I’ve seen my favourite bands reunite, discovered new ones, witnessed holographic performances and new technology, travelled to new places, met my first love, and somehow established a semi-career from chronicling it all. It’s never been hard for me to see why there is such a fear of missing out on the music festival – for both the good and the bad, and I know I’m not alone in those experiences.

Whether you’re there to work and make money, to travel to a new city, keep up with your tradition, or just get tipsy listening to music, something told you it was worth your money.

Let’s take it back a minute and think about what festivals used to be like. Growing up, I always heard about the glory days of Woodstock in the summer of ‘69. Our parents’ era came together and saw musicians play in some random farmer’s field for three days and only $18. Considering inflation, ticket costs are not so different than today’s costs ($18 in 1969 would amount to $120 today). Promoters paid about $30,000 in 1969 to get Jimi Hendrix’ notorious early morning set, which would be almost $200,000 today – again not too far at all from what musicians are currently being paid.

Festival promoters are generally the only ones who can afford to bring in big names to smaller and less popular festivals, and even potentially get bands to reunite. It might be your only chance to see some of the acts you weren’t born in the right decade for. It’s understandable why people put up with some of the negative aspects of these concerts considering their favourite band might only be playing the festival circuit. The same goes for the new, ever-present corporate push at festivals. Although many people seem to have an issue with it, it’s also something to be sort of grateful for. Brands are the ones who are offsetting some of the cost of tickets and helping create an environment where people feel more involved, rather than just sitting or standing watching bands all day.

After speaking with a few artists playing the circuit, I’ve learned that they also have a love/hate relationship with festivals. Although they have the chance to meet new artists, travel to new cities, and play to seas of fans, they don’t always have the opportunity to experiment and test out new material because of strict time limits and the hype expected from such shows.

I spoke with Harrison, an up-and-coming Toronto producer about his experiences with festivals. “I like the intimacy of smaller venues better,” he admitted. “I don’t really want to be playing festivals. I want to have shows where people are like ‘WOW,’ and feeling a part of something I created. Like look at Grandtheft [who was at the time playing to a mass of thirsty teenagers] – he’s killing it in his own way for the fans, but that’s just not the right fit for me. I don’t want to cater to the crowd you know? I guess I kind of like the loudness sometimes, it makes things sound a lot more analog, but I’d rather play music that’s personal to me and that I like and show that to the people there.”

On the other side of artistic opinions, I found Tinashe, an LA native and R&B princess who is no stranger to the scene after having grown up going to Coachella. “It’s fun because it’s becoming more collaborative. They’re open to listening and meshing the genres already so the mixture of all this music in one place is really exciting. It’s definitely trendier to attend these types of events now then when I was younger,” she acknowledges. “People definitely want to be seen if they think it’s cool, but myself as a music lover, no matter what the intentions were attending the concert, at the end of the day I know I’ve ultimately experienced the music at its best.”

Festivals have always been about gathering people to experience art and music together, about losing yourself in the crowd but trying not to lose your friends in the foot traffic on the way to the next stage. There are no guarantees when you sign up to attend one of these events. So what you don’t have cellphone reception for a few hours, or your favourite band didn’t play your favourite song, or that you got drenched in mud during so and so’s set? You paid for the ticket, so it’s up to you to create the experience you want and embrace the pros and cons. With so many diverse festivals out there, it would be foolish not to seek one out to try yourself.

So congratulations for surviving this year’s music festival season. I hope you made some good memories, but more so, I hope you made some bad ones.