What the hell was M.I.A. doing in a tent?

(Photo by Spencer Weiner / LAT)

OK, it’s officially time to call bullsh*t on this whole “tradition” of having huge artists play in the relatively small “Sahara Tent” at Coachella.

As a huge M.I.A. fan, I was amped to see her show and prove why she’s one of the most exciting and innovative artists working in music today. But after having seen the giant crowd overflowing the Sahara for Hot Chip’s dance-tastic set earlier in the day, I started to worry. Would I be able to get a glimpse of M.I.A.’s roof-raising world party? Sadly, the answer was all Whitney Houston: “Oh hell to the no.”

By the time she took the stage, the crowd spilling out of the tent on all sides was packed as far back as the gate. Pushing to at least get a sightline of the stage, all that could be seen were countless heads and M.I.A.’s color-explosive visuals on the big screens. I waited for shots of M.I.A. to grace the screens that never came. Two songs in (which sounded great, by the way), and it became clear that there would be no footage of the actual performance on the screens. So not only was I stuck back by a gate, but I couldn’t even watch on the big screen. And it sucked. Big time. 

It’s really a bummer for all of the M.I.A. fans (of which there are obviously many) to not get to see ol’ girl at all, even in video form. For those close enough to see, it was a tough trade-off, as the overstuffed tent gave way to lots of pushing and shoving, girls getting roughed up, and security eventually turning on the house lights in an attempt to quell the madness. Not exactly my idea of a good time.

Eventually shuffling over to the Outdoor Stage to at least see Mark Ronson's soul revue, I was able to console myself with a sweet new M.I.A. t-shirt at the merch stand. But what would really make things better would be if an L.A. concert promoter would book Miss Thing for a proper date sooner than later. You know, the kind where you can actually see the act perform. Please and thank you. In the meantime, I’ll just cue up “Bamboo Banga” again, and imagine what could have been…

— Scott T. Sterling