An essay by Kimberly Kaye of Loose Cattle.

The crowd looks like a psychedelic wonderland of wildflowers. Sometimes clouds cast shadows over the uneven sea of vibrant caftans, gator-patterned button-down shirts, and festival hats, patches of midday sun illuminating masses of rosy faces. It’s a view familiar to generations of musicians privileged enough to stand on a festival stage—and a thrilling, if nerve-wracking, sight for New Orleans artists making their all-important Jazz Fest debuts.
...