Coachella 2026 Recap Day 2: Losing Myself In The Music
- Ajay B
- 2 days ago
- 2 min read
If Day 1 was about finding my rhythm, Day 2 was about letting go of it completely.
Saturday felt louder. Faster. Less reflective and more immersive. I wasn’t thinking about where to go next—I was just moving. Following sound, energy, instinct.
And somehow, every set pulled me deeper in.
Riordan — Stepping Into the Underground
Riordan was my first set of the day—and my first time stepping into Yuma.
There’s something about that tent. It feels separate from the rest of the festival: darker, more contained, more intentional. Less about spectacle, more about sound.
Starting my day there set the tone. It grounded everything. It felt like stepping into the underground before the chaos of the rest of the day unfolded.
Hamdi — Bass That You Feel Before You Hear
Hamdi brought a completely different energy.
His set was this perfect balance of old-school dubstep and newer, more experimental sounds. Vibey—but still heavy in a way that sits in your chest.
It wasn’t just loud, it was physical. The kind of bass you feel before you even process what you’re hearing.
And in that moment, I stopped thinking entirely. Just movement. Just feeling.
Giveon — A Serenade in the Middle of the Desert
Then everything slowed down.
Giveon brought a kind of soul that doesn’t rush you; it holds you there.
His sound feels timeless. Like the soul of the ’90s mixed with the heartbreak of the 2000s, delivered in a way that’s both powerful and effortless. Emotional—but still somehow groovy.
When he performed “Stuck On You,” it hit.
Not just in a casual, “this is a good song” way, but in a way that makes you stop and feel everything at once. I cried. No hesitation.
There was a ballerina dancing on stage during the set, and it made everything feel even more intimate—like we weren’t at a festival, but watching something deeply personal. Like a serenade instead of a performance.
And then, teasing a new collaboration with Teddy Swims?
If that’s what’s coming next, we’re not ready.
The Strokes — What Live Music Really Means
Seeing The Strokes shifted something for me.
As someone who spends a lot of time in electronic spaces, it’s easy to think that’s the peak of live music. The production, the drops, the energy—it feels like everything.
But sets like this remind you what live music really is.
It’s raw. It’s imperfect in the best way. It’s musicians fully in their element, creating something real in real time. No distractions, no overproduction—just sound, presence, and connection.
Artists like The Strokes—and even Blood Orange—represent a kind of purity in live performance that’s hard to replicate.
And standing there, watching it unfold, I realized something:
I didn’t just lose myself in the music that day.
I redefined what it meant to experience it.
Day 2 Takeaway
Day 2 wasn’t about control. It wasn’t about planning.
It was about letting the music take over.
From the depth of Yuma to the weight of bass to the vulnerability of live vocals—every set pulled me further out of my head and deeper into the moment.
Day 1 helped me find my rhythm.
Day 2 made me lose myself in it.
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