Gainesville's transformation from a quaint college town to a giant, sweaty, hairy head-banging werewolf is finnaly over. The full moon has waned and heartiest of the partiers have picked themselves off the concrete, checked out of the Holiday Inn and gone home. We've all got headaches and overpriced bandshirts for souvenirs yet nobody feels an ounce of regret
The Fest, in the spirit of Halloween, is a time when everyone drops everything and goes wild. An anarchic bubble begins to form around the city, expanding outward until the cops decide to bust it (I'm not pointing any fingers, SATURDAY NIGHT CROWD). Downtown was blanketed with a thick fog of cigarettes, cannabis and beard musk. Thicker than usual at least. The ground was littered with aluminum beer cans, as if to lay the framework for some giant metal party machine that no one has the blueprints to.
As for the music, it was loud and invigorating; the fuel consumed by the fiery crowds. Some of the most notable performances were by Dillinger Four, a punk rock veteran, and Bomb the Music Industry, see my other article. The crowds were full of people in full costumes, exacerbating the confusion of the pits, transporting you further from the reality you left behind and closer to the music. A place where Jesus and green man can high-five behind the lead singer of a great band. (See Video)
Though The Fest and Halloween are gone in flash, Gainesville can sleep knowing that this time next year its all gonna happen again, full moon or not.