Electric Forest 2015, by the Numbers

For all intents and purposes, this Electric Forest 2015 story starts at the EDC Las Vegas SkyDeck at 7am on Monday, June 22, as Galantis was wrapping up three days of fun and hedonism with a maximally joyful set that made most every Insomniac employee in attendance dance as hard as all of the hardcore Headliners still going for it at kineticFIELD after three nights of desert revelry.

It was some sort of party-person poetry, then, when 82 hours and 1,926 miles later, in the lush woods of Michigan, I began Electric Forest 2015 by watching Galantis play a similarly feel-good set for an audience that was just as excited, if far less exhausted, as the crowd back in Vegas.

Electric Forest is, in fact, similar to a lot of the festivals you’ve been to, and at the same time is like nothing you’ve ever experienced before. As always, this year’s lineup featured names EDM festies will recognize (Skrillex, Kaskade, Carnage, Bassnectar) and also a bunch of proper bands (jam gods the String Cheese Incident are among the founders of the fest), as well as loads of sonic surprises that weren’t on the schedule. While the main event is ostensibly the music, the real magic of EF happens among the patch of red pine trees known as Sherwood Forest, where art installations, performances, secret stages, unmarked speakeasies, and an infinite number of deeply felt moments are all up for the taking and the making.

The fifth incarnation of EF went down this past weekend, June 25–28, in Rothbury, Michigan. For five days, the population of this 425-person town multiplied by more than a hundred as tens of thousands of attendees arrived from all over the Midwest and beyond—with more than a few coming straight from EDC Vegas—to participate in four days of verdant enchantment.

Here, by the numbers, is some of what I experienced during the festival:

Number of degrees’ difference between the peak temperature at EDC Vegas and the lowest temperature at Electric Forest: 67

Vegas was silly hot, with daytime temperatures peaking at 115 degrees, and Electric Forest brought the chill with nighttime temperatures dipping down to 47, which made it officially cold enough to see you your breath.

Number of trees hugged: Two.

If you didn’t hug a tree, it’s your damn loss.

Number of 80-percent-empty water bottles that had accumulated in my backpack by the end of each night: Usually like, six.

Number of on-site hula-hoops: Thousands, at least.

Most of them glowing.

Number of hugs received from total strangers: Many.

Number of hugs received from old friends: Even more.

Number of times I sat in the middle of a circle of gongs being played by a group of individuals calling themselves the Sonic Portal: One.

Running on donations, this crew travels from festival to festival playing their “sonic spaceship” for crowds looking for a musical experience you just can’t get on the mainstage—or any stage, for that matter. The experience was the perfect opportunity to snuggle up close to friends (and strangers) while having a dozen or so gongs banged in my general direction. The experience was trippy, yes, and also a soothingly meditative way to end the evening.

Number of Bassnectar logos seen: More than you would even believe.

The mind-bending prevalence of Bassnectar paraphernalia seen throughout the weekend cannot be overstated. The logo was everywhere: on homemade and professionally rendered flags, on T-shirts, hats, tattoos, backpacks, totems, face paint, booty shorts, boxer shorts, panties, etc. When the dude took the stage in front of the weekend’s biggest audience on Saturday night, he proved that his omnipresence was well deserved with a set that one fan noted actually made their stomach ache go away. Does Bassnectar’s music truly have healing powers? I don’t know. Maybe. In any case, it sounded really good.

**Number of times I witnessed members of the audience break out in tears upon hearing a cover of The Legend of Zelda theme song: One.**

Virtuoso violinist, ace dancer, singer and all-around pixie badass Lindsey Stirling played to a packed tent on Saturday afternoon, dancing around the stage in a silver onepiece (with matching sequined sneakers) and commanding the crowd (who was chanting her name) with every flick of her violin bow. Her sound is a fusion of electronic elements, drums, vocals and violin, and her aesthetic is akin to the high school musical of your wildest fantasies, complete with some of the best backup dancers surely ever to grace a Forest stage. When she covered the Zelda theme, grown men and women were legitimately crying tears of joy.

Number of times I broke into tears while a stranger read me poetry: One.

Beyond ecstatic group experiences, the thing Electric Forest excels at is providing small, intimate moments. Take, for example, the Poetry Brothel, one of several installations in the Hangar, a new area this year that offered services including cocktails, haircuts, tattoos and massages. In this zone lived the literarily saucy-sounding Poetry Brothel. To enter, we stepped through a photo booth; on the other side, we were received into a dimly lit waiting room populated by a beautiful woman wearing a crown of flowers and a masked man playing the accordion. From here, we were brought to a tiny, candlelit boudoir outfitted with a velvet-covered bed.

Here, a woman named Genevieve indulged our bookish fantasies by opening up her journal of handwritten poetry and reading two selections, one of which, “10 Rules for Breaking Up” made me both laugh (“Step 8: When you see your ex, refuse to discuss anything but the weather…”) and cry (“Dye your hair an unnatural color, so it hurts less when your love fails to really see you, since you won’t even really be able to recognize yourself.”) It was lovely, and profound, and a perfect reminder that the genius of Electric Forest often happens in the darkest corners of the festival.

Number of objects in the air during the String Cheese Incident’s Saturday-evening set: Dozens, and more if you count all that confetti.

The band’s traditional Saturday-evening spectacle this year included fireworks, inflatable zeppelins, huge light-up balls, and one giant, inflatable moon with a woman doing aerial silk acrobatics hanging from the bottom that moved slowly over the crowd and off into the distance. If you weren’t impressed, you must have had your eyes closed or something. Please note that the band also played for a total of 12 hours over the course of the weekend.

Number of times the faraway sound of an unknown band drew me toward a random stage for a singularly incredible experience: One.

The sounds emanating from the Jubilee tent on Friday night pulled us in as we strolled by on our way to buy pizza and resulted in a good, old-fashioned get-down as the group Delhi 2 Dublin played an appealing hybrid of traditional Celtic and Banghra music. Dudes in the audience were literally just standing there, watching with their jaws hanging open in amazement. Google this group now, and see them if they are ever playing anywhere near you.

Number of CDs it took to assemble this whimsical dragon: A few hundred.

Including many homemade mixes and at least one copy of Meatloaf’s Bat Out of Hell.

Number of newly identified bass music enthusiasts: One, at least.

Looking at you here, Ian from the Insomniac legal department.

Number of people who took part in the weekend’s biggest group hug: 3,000-ish.

While the festival didn’t reach its goal of setting the record for the world’s largest-ever group hug, 3,000 people getting together in a field to embrace each other, especially after a few days of limited showers, is still pretty neat.

Number of sunrises witnessed: Two.

To be fair, that is a photo of a sunset, but you get the idea.

Number of laughs had at the Jive Joint: Many.

Hosted by West Coast festival favorite Super Tall Paul, the Jive Joint presented improv music and performances all weekend. Highlights included Paul’s cover of “I Wanna Be Like You” from The Jungle Book, a performance tutorial about the art of “almost kissing” (hint: You get really close to someone, as if you’re going to kiss them, but then you don’t), and the moment a guy wandering through the crowd ended up onstage for a few moments before realizing he was, in fact, in the spotlight. Genius all around.

Number of legendary memories made: Infinity.

Number of hours slept on the five-hour plane ride home: Five.

Katie Bain has a lot of post-festival laundry to do. She’s on Twitter.

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