Fear and Loathing at Boston Calling Music Festival
I was sitting on a bench Saturday night when I heard the groans of disgruntled festival goers. A storm was coming and everyone at Boston Calling was ordered to take shelter in the covered portion of the VIP section or leave the concert entirely.
Initially, many of my fellow attendees opted for the former.
It was around 6 p.m. when the jet black clouds started to fill the evening sky, a sign of the chaos to come. The heavens looked angry but I felt compelled to hang over a ledge for photo-op. I was immediately rebuffed by an event staffer who told me to join the rest of the crowd underneath the mezzanine’s roof.
At that point, a shelter in place order was sent out thanks to the looming thunderstorms and organizers scrambled to keep people safe while discerning whether to cancel the show.
Minutes before driving rains struck City Hall Plaza, thousands of screaming fans were jumping and jiving to the tunes of The Hold Steady.
As the rain fell, the areas surrounding the blue and red stages resembled a ghost town more than a raucous music festival.
Underneath the protection of the VIP section’s roof, the cracks of thunder pumped up the crowd. The remaining attendees made the most of their time by tossing beach balls and making music of their own — mostly chants to the tune of The White Stripes’ “Seven Nation Army.’’
As the storm started to subside and the sun began peeking out through the clouds, it looked like the festival would be back in a flash but Mother Nature had something else in mind.
Another deluge was on its way, meaning I was in for a long night.
I found a buddy of mine who was working with the beer vendors. He proved to be an invaluable source of information for the night’s events.
He informed me that a light post was down, and depending on its severity, that alone could cancel the concert (never mind the wave of lightning and rain which was sure to pass through).
Curious, I perused the impatient crowd which little by little, was trickling out of the fenced in grounds of City Hall Plaza. I was among the few hopefuls who stuck around, hoping to catch a glimpse of the evening’s remaining artists.
As time went on, the festival’s organizers urged both fans and media to leave the premises. I nabbed a staff shirt from my beer-selling friend in an effort to blend in and stuck around in hopes of hearing an official announcement.
I asked questions, but everyone gave me variations of the same, non-specific answer: “We have to wait and see.’’
I hung around the beer workers, who seemed like the only happy people left. Even if the concert resumed, beer sales were required to stop at 9:15 p.m., so effectively, the vendors’ night was over.
After what seemed like an eternity of waiting, one of the event’s organizers finally gave us the word at 8 p.m.: the show was back on.
Girl Talk and Volcano Choir were nixed from the lineup. Lorde was set to take the stage at 9 p.m., with Childish Gambino to follow.
And with that, my night began again.
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