It’s Sunday, the closing day of the festival. People stagger through the Coachella grounds with forced bravado and as much cheerfulness as they can muster, but stop anywhere and you’ll hear one of any of the following: “I’m tired,’ “I’m so exhausted,” “I just want to go home,” “You okay dude? Get up, this isn’t funny,” etc. They’re trying to stay conscious for what will later prove to be one of the biggest shows of the entire 3-day package — an hour long performance by France’s Phoenix. I thought the crowd at MGMT’s show was huge; truth be told, they had nothing on these guys. Nobody did.
