We Didn’t Need a Wristband to Feel the Weight of It

Coachella didn’t make a stop in Virginia. But we weren’t waiting on it to.

We watched from apartment balconies, from beachside porches, from quiet second-floor bedrooms where the only light came from the screen. It wasn’t about the spectacle this year—it was about the stillness. And that? That’s something we understand here.

Virginia isn’t loud about its feelings. We keep our stories close. But Coachella 2025? It reached in anyway.

Gaga Didn’t Perform. She Laid It All Down.

When Lady Gaga stepped onto the stage, there was no glitter for the sake of it. No playing to the crowd. Just five acts of pure unraveling.

She shed old versions of herself without needing to say much. Each act felt like another door closing softly. Her voice wasn’t perfect. Her energy wasn’t polished. But it was real. When she sang “Bad Romance,” it didn’t sound like a hit single—it sounded like a farewell.

Then Gesaffelstein came in and twisted everything darker, sharper. Suddenly, we were watching something raw and stormy. And still, we stayed with her. Because here, we know what it means to walk through something hard and come out a little changed on the other side.

Green Day Shouted What We Didn’t Know We Needed to Say

We don’t always let loose here. But when someone else does it for us? We lean in.

Green Day didn’t hold back. Their set was chaotic, loud, and full of that beautiful middle-finger energy they’ve always carried. And when one of their pyros lit a palm tree on fire? No one even blinked. It felt fitting.

They screamed through politics. They played like they meant it. And when they brought out The Go-Go’s, something weirdly joyful happened. It was like hearing a memory laugh.

In Virginia, we hold joy and fury in the same breath. Their set understood that.

The Guest List Was a Puzzle—But the Picture Was Clear

Charli XCX brought out Billie Eilish, Troye Sivan, and Lorde in a storm of sound and glitter, and it felt like emotional chaos disguised as a dance party.

Then Bernie Sanders introduced Clairo with a gentle speech about the future, and no one rolled their eyes. Because sometimes, a voice like that—steady, clear, hopeful—carries more than the music.

Benson Boone singing “Bohemian Rhapsody” with Brian May hit like a song you didn’t realize you still loved. And the LA Philharmonic, performing with Zedd, LL Cool J, and Maren Morris, felt like the kind of collaboration that says, “We don’t need to explain this. Just feel it.”

And we did.

Posty Brought the Ache—The Kind That Stays Quiet With You

There’s something about Post Malone that fits right into Virginia’s rhythm. He doesn’t yell. He doesn’t reach. He just opens his mouth and lets it all fall out—soft, steady, and honest.

“I Fall Apart” still hits like a truth you haven’t spoken out loud. “Circles” feels like the sound of staying too long. And the new stuff? It sounded like something we’ll be humming months from now, not even realizing it came from here.

Travis Scott brought fire and spectacle, sure—but the moment he stopped and shouted out his daughter? That’s the part that stayed. That softness in the middle of all that noise.

We Watched the Way We Do Everything—With Space and Sincerity

We didn’t crowd around. We didn’t livestream for the likes. We just watched. From couches and kitchens, from tucked-in headphones during long walks near the water.

The YouTube multiview gave us access. The Coachella app gave us the tools. But it was our stillness—our attention—that made it feel like more than just another show.

Final Thought—It Never Crossed Our Borders, But It Crossed Into Something Deeper

Coachella 2025 didn’t need a Virginia stop. It just needed our time. And we gave it that.

We didn’t show up with glow sticks or festival wear. We showed up with full hearts and quiet rooms. And somehow, that was enough.

The best music doesn’t ask you to be loud. It just asks you to listen.

And in Virginia, we did.