PAPER is back at Coachella, interviewing, reviewing and soaking in all the branded, influencer (and dare we say) authentic music moments mixed with chaos and MAYHEM (see what we did there?) the fest can offer. Keep it locked here all weekend long as we tell you what really went down at the desert’s biggest, best fest.
Day One: To Wake Her Is To Lose Her
Let’s get right into it. I am so grateful, humbled, shocked that I got to experience the world’s first, only and last ever live music performance. What I witnessed last night during Lady Gaga‘s set is something I have never seen in my life. As someone who has shifted, rewired, etc. their entire life around live music I’ve seen so many pop shows — but I have never, ever, ever seen anything like that. Lady Gaga’s headlingperformance at this year’s Coachella was actual art. I cried. I danced. I cried. I questioned reality. I cried again. What a beautiful testament to her album MAYHEM to fans, and to music.
“I love you so much I wanted to make a romantic gesture to you this year, in these times of mayhem,” she told us, standing in a billowy white dress and platinum wig with cascading, romantic curls. “I decided to build you an opera house in the desert,” she added — my mind immediately thinking, “Gaga can build us a whole opera house, and he can’t even text you back?”
But the true kicker, she added, is why we’re all here today: “For all the love and all the joy and all the strength you’ve given me my whole life. Sometimes I feel I went into a dream when I was like 20 years old. I’ve been in a dream ever since then, and I didn’t know if I wanted to wake up. Because what if you weren’t there?” Chills.
And that, my friends brings us to the day one Coachella experience — the perfect mirage smack dab in the middle of the world’s mayhem. Your feeds are likely a combination of political turmoil and influencer fits at the moment, a weird dance of we deserve the bliss vs. we need to be aware — a constant questioning of how to be awake within the dream.
PAPER’s day one started easy. A quick chat with Yo Gabba Gabba (they were excited to see Gaga’s set, I was excited to see them) followed by a catch-up with the fashionable and charismatic Rhea Raj. Then we got Harry Daniels to do a cover of “Like Jennie” backstage and we grabbed a quick chat with Ravyn Lenae to ask about her track “Love Me Not”‘s meteroic rise on the charts.
There was also some celeb spotting — like Chappell Roan wearing glasses under crimson curls before Gaga took the stage and Alex Consani getting sips at the VIP bar, or my fav celeb spotting: PAPER’s Justin Moran with recent cover star and absolute gem Dylan Mulvaney hanging backstage. I also saw Marina, as a mate, stopped to give her a hug, and I didn’t know who she was under those blonde ringlets, but shoutout to her for roughing in VIP for Missy Elliot’s set.
Elsewhere at the fest, newsworthy moments were aplenty: Three 6 Mafia brought out MGK, Wiz Khalifa and Travis Barker; there were apparently horrible traffic jams on the way to the fest; Billy Joel came on stage with the Go-Gos; Benson Boone brought out literal Brian May of Queen for a rendition of “Bohemian Rhapsody.” Lady Gaga played drums during “Killah” and Erica Campbell, PAPER’s music editor, didn’t make it to the afters because after seeing that happen, she knew the night couldn’t be topped.
Here’s to the dream, and to Coachella, because as the guy in the shuttle with me on the way home said: “You don’t get it unless you get it.”
Day Two: I Don’t Care — I Love It
Last night — Charli xcx headlined Coachella without headlining Coachella. Honestly, it’s the coolest thing a global star could do. Being in the headline spot? Approachable, for everyone, for artists your dad knows (or your 40-year-old situationship knows, shoutout to our intern Andie for accidentally but rightfully calling us all out in her Coachella preview). But still keeping it underground by sneaking your headline spot under other acts? We see you, Ms. Charli. Lorde came out. Troye Sivan came out. Billie Motherfucking Eilish came out. And I was there … kind of.
Okay, so I was running from a backstage interview with Parcels (we all stopped to dance once we heard “360” come on, since we were behind the main stage — right there, smack dab in the middle of the social interview) to catch Pusha T at Heineken House and I missed most of the performance. I mean, I have a blurry video running past as Lorde and Charli walked like bitches during “Girl, so confusing” and I did stop to dance with two young ladies to scream the line “You’re from the ’70s but I’m a ’90s bitch!” during “I Love It” (they were definitely from the 2000s, but you know what — hell yeah!) but alas most of my intel (including the video posted above from Mr. Moran) is from those who were there, in the pit, bringing their well-earned Brat fantasies to life in the desert.
Not to make this about me… but I feel like Brat summer evaded me. Part of me thinks it’s like when you have siblings, and one is good at school, and the other is good at music, so you become a funny writer type who treats every conversation like a standup routine (I could be talking about anybody here). But that was my experience of Brat summer — I mean I work at brat headquarters, people who live breath the 360 lifestyle — we had The Dare on a cover, we love Julia Fox more than you and before you did. If Charli was there this summer, PAPER was there!
But that energetic brattiness, the kind that saw one of my mates recording Julia during “360” with a smile on her face, the kind that had another one of my friends explain to me that it was homophobic to miss Charli’s set (valid) and the kind that allowed you to embrace the neon, messiness and blacked out shades of brattiness, just never hit me.
Speaking of neon — I did finally make it to Neon Carnival this year, after losing a BMW and not making it to the festivities in 2024. And last night, in the dust filled night, I learned some things about myself. First, that I suck at ring toss, that I can have a total of two ranch waters before calling it a night, and that I can, if needed, rally for the cause. So, after spending a day, chatting with d4vd, Blu DeTiger, watching Sam Fender’s Coachella debut and running around like a mad woman because the artist area golf carts had an hour wait (should be illegal) part of me feels like, maybe a year late, maybe a few neon green fits short, but maybe, just maybe it’s time for me to embrace my inner brat.
Maybe the real brat was the person we became along the way? [Cue White Lotus monologue] To all my friends who Brat-ed out last night, I just want to say: “I’m glad you have a ‘360’ lifestyle. And I’m glad you know the ‘Apple’ dance. And I’m just happy to be at the table.”
Day Three: Escaping The Mirage
This is my fourth Coachella, and my theory that every year is different, that every access level is another universe completely, has continued to be proven true. My last day started with a massage at the Hyatt, before a Heineken’s shuttle took us over to the artists entrance so I could grab a quick chat with country cutie Maren Morris about her upcoming album Dreamsicle. These are luxuries I couldn’t even dream of my first year, as I walked what seemed like 1,000 miles to a shuttle I referred to as “the sad bus” to take a trek all the way from Indio to Palm Springs every night. And despite a few rough run-ins, like getting lost backstage (again) but saved by an artist’s golf cart, and explaining to a security guard that I was, in fact, allowed in that area (in hindsight, I’m pretty sure he just wanted to distract me so he could talk to me about his new EP that’s coming out), and Megan Thee Stallion’s performance, which featured me dancing in VIP to “Goodies” and howling when Ciara came out — ending with her mic and sound shutting off (or getting cut off?) when I was just starting to feel like a hot girl — the last day at Coachella was a success.
I had a quick chat with afro-house innovator AMÉMÉ. Went to Red Bull Mirage for an Omakase experience by Nobu in the middle of the freakin’ festival. Then, to balance the boujee, I spent the afternoon running back and forth to interviews, a nice reminder of why we’re all here, etc. etc. I met a young journalist who was tied to her laptop and told me she appreciated my work and the buzz from that carried me on as I spoke to Beaches, Wisp, and Amaarae, and waited outside BigXthaPlug’s trailer for him to finish chatting with his friend and fellow performer Shaboozey so we could talk about his upcoming project. I spoke to a publicist who talked about PAPER’s incomparable work, and I felt very proud to be associated with the small and mighty team of creative brains I get to call colleagues.
On the shuttle back to the hotel, I heard stories of the other antics that took place on day three. Addison Rae came out with Arca and announced her new album would be out in June. Kali Uchis came out during JENNIE from BLACKPINK’s set. And of course, someone spotted James Charles.
Back at the hotel last night, I couldn’t decide if I was exhausted and ready to head back to New York City, or yearning for another day in the desert, more playtime in the mirage. Alas, all good things (and dusty things) must come to an end. But when you write about music and interview bands for a living, in some ways, you always get to stay in the dream: to reference our favorite headliner, Lady Gaga — and WTF, typing this from the floor cause I just experienced my first earthquake — and you know what, maybe waking up in NYC won’t be so bad after all.
Photography: Getty Images