Years after summers spent at outdoor concerts in my teens and early twenties, I went to Lollapalooza with my daughter and found something I wasn’t expecting: a little more faith in humanity.
I recently learned something I never knew about Lollapalooza, it wasn’t created to become one of the biggest music festivals in the world. In 1991, Perry Farrell, the lead singer of Jane’s Addiction, created it as a farewell tour for his band. Instead of organizing one last concert, he imagined something different, he brought together artists from different genres, performance artists, nonprofit organizations, and activists. The idea wasn’t for everyone to like the same music, it was to create a place where people could discover something new. More than thirty years later, standing in Grant Park in Chicago, I realized that idea might be more important now than ever.
When I was younger, my friends and I just loved music and growing up in a suburb of Cleveland concerts were a summertime passage. Plus I grew up in a music family going to concerts since I was a little kid. I was born in LA and my dad has been in the radio and music business since he was a kid. My middle name is Summer and when I was a baby Donna Summer was holding me and my diaper leaked all over here. I think the story goes she learned my middle name was Summer and then started sending me gifts? I think I need a refresher on that story. But anyways, music is literally in my DNA from going to the Beach Boys concerts and hanging out in their dressing room because my dad is friends with them, to a Bon Jovi concert when I was 7, Madonna when I was 10, but then came all the concerts with my friends when I was in high school, college, and twenties.
Summers meant Warped Tour, Horde Tour, BuzzardFest, Dave Matthews Band, Jimmy Buffett, and just about every outdoor concert that came through Blossom Music Center. Blossom wasn’t exactly glamorous, if you know, you know. Long walks from the parking lot, crowds everywhere, mud if it rained, and enough porta-potties to make me question my life choices. Even back then, I appreciated nice hotels, clean bathrooms, and air conditioning. Let’s just say portable toilets were never going to be my thing. Still, I wouldn’t trade those nights for anything.
There was something about piling into a car with your friends, or sometimes yes, even as teens and in our early twenties we took limos to concerts (Blossom was a long drive from my city, plus we were being responsible and there weren’t ubers back then and there were a lot of us going,) spending money on overpriced food, then driving home, replaying the entire night before we even left the parking lot (but I mean, there was a big traffic jam leaving that parking lot.)
Music has a way of marking seasons of our lives. Certain songs can transport you back decades in an instant. A weekend ago I took my youngest daughter to Lolapollooza and so many memories of concerts came flooding back to me but this time I wasn’t standing shoulder to shoulder with my high school friends, I was there with my daughter. Watching another generation fall in love with live music. That alone would have been enough to make the weekend memorable. But what stayed with me wasn’t any one performance, it was the people. Every few hundred feet the soundtrack changed; pop, hip-hop, indie, rock, EDM. Thousands of people moving from stage to stage, discovering artists they had never planned to see.
Nobody seemed concerned with whether the people around them had the same playlist or clothing style. They were just enjoying the experience together. The people were just as diverse as the music, teenagers, college students, parents, grandparents, families with little kids wearing oversized headphones, even babies in those wearable carriers. Some people dressed like they were headed to a fashion show, some like they were Alix Earle at Cochella, some people in vintage band T-shirts older than some of the festival attendees, some in Bohemian or hippie-ish style clothing, others just in swim suits, some in J.Crew sundresses and Tory Burch slides (me, that was me) We spend so much time online sorting ourselves into categories, but at Lollapalooza, nobody seemed interested in categories.
Then there was the food. As someone who has been vegetarian since I was four years old and vegan for many, many years, I couldn’t help but notice how many incredible plant-based options there were, right alongside Chicago pizza, tacos, burgers, and every other festival favorite. Nobody was judging what anyone else ordered.
Then the music ended. If you’ve ever left a major sporting event or concert, you expect chaos, instead, Chicago seemed ready. Four or five blocks of Michigan Avenue were closed to traffic, thousands upon thousands of people filled the streets walking, some walked back to their hotels, others headed for the L, some boarded buses, others found their Uber pickup spots, and some got their scooters or e-bikes. It wasn’t frantic like at all! Nobody was pushing or yelling, it just felt really organized.
For a little while, one of the busiest streets in America belonged entirely to people. Standing there, surrounded by complete strangers walking in every direction, I had one overwhelming thought; this is what community looks like, not everyone agreeing, not everyone listening to the same music, not everyone dressing the same, not everyone eating the same food, not everyone coming from the same background. Just people sharing a space, respecting one another, and making room for everyone to enjoy the experience.
It made me wonder why a lot of us have forgotten something. Social media has convinced us we’re supposed to choose one identity. One way of eating, one way of exercising, one way of thinking, one algorithm. Real life doesn’t work that way, life is a lot more interesting when we stay curious and wander over to the stage we didn’t plan on visiting.
I think this is exactly what Perry Farrell hoped would happen, people would experience all of this, not just a music festival but a reminder that the way we look, the clothes we were, where we come from, basically I guess being different doesn’t have to mean divided.
As I watched my daughter soaking it all in, I realized something else, the music I listen to hasn’t really changed since I was nineteen, but I kind of have, like in the way of noticing the beautifully organized city, the kindness of strangers, the incredible food, and the joy of watching people from every walk of life peacefully sharing the same space.
The concerts I went to in my teens and twenties gave me memories I’ll always cherish but Lollapalooza gave me HOPE. Hope that despite what our screens and the internet tell us every day, people are still capable of coming together, kindness still maters and people have it! Sometimes all it takes is good music, a summer weekend, and a city willing to make room for EVERYONE!
Nikki Lanigan
Nikki Lanigan is a yoga, HIIT, and Barre instructor, she is also a Holistic Health Coach through Institute of Integrative Nutrition. Nikki is trained in Yoga Shred, Yoga Psychology, meditation, chakra balancing, and EFT/Tapping. She has done trainings with Sadie Nardini and Ashley Turner. She got her 200 hour yoga teacher training in 2017 at the Carrie Treister School Of Yoga. Nikki takes a holistic view of health, helping her students and clients reach a place of self-love not just through movement, but with mindset and lifestyle guidance as well. Nikki is also show prep writer for The McVay Media Show Prep and host of the podcast Fit, Fun, and Frazzled. Connect with Nikki on Instagram. www.instagram.com/nikkilanigan.yogaandwellness www.instagram.com/fitfunandfrazzledpodcast
