by Parker Hastings, October 2007 
A frenzied melee of bullet biting and stiff-chinned compromise.
I don’t enjoy Christmas as much as I did when I was younger. I like to think that I can pinpoint the exact moment it began to be less magical for me as the moment I realized how much work my parents put into the whole event. The planning, spending and selflessness involved just made it harder to completely lose myself in the moment.
Right now, I am worried that the same thing will happen to one of my favorite local holidays, the Fest.
Tony Weinbender, founding father and headcheese of the Fest, while sitting across a table from me, is essentially pulling back the curtain and showing me the gnarled inner workings of Gainesville’s largest annual music festival. Where I expected to see seamless clockwork interactions and symbiotic relationships between bands, venues and promoters, there is instead a frenzied melee of bullet biting and stiff-chinned compromise.
The bulk of the problems seem to center around the sheer volume of events this year. Because of the online application process, so many bands have applied for this Fest that Tony has completely stopped accepting new applications.
“It sucks because there are a lot of good bands,” Weinbender laments. “You listen and think ‘Who is this band? They would be fucking perfect for this show!’ but there just isn’t any more room for them.”
One of the main queries Weinbender receives from observers while planning the event is why he feels the need to make it bigger every year, rather than scaling back as logic might dictate.
“I think if bands are willing to drive all the way down here to play, I should do my best to try to find the space for them,” Weinbender explains. “Also, there are more local bands than ever in Gainesville. You could do a whole Fest with just the local bands that are here.”
Like most problems, the root of the Fest’s limitations is grounded in money. There just isn’t enough to satisfy the desires of the bands and the venues. While Weinbender does his best to make sure that smaller, out-of-town bands are at least provided gas money, the larger bands often have inflated concert fees and absurd demand lists. Tony attributes the latter trend to the increased popularity of large-scale festivals such as Bonnaroo and SXSW, which generally cover their own costs with ticket sales, and then garner their profit from extensive sponsorship deals.
The Fest’s sponsors, however, deal almost exclusively in trade. Pabst Blue Ribbon, the largest sponsor, provides beer for the bands all weekend. Weinbender says he feels comfortable endorsing this product because he would normally drink Pabst anyway. He was not comfortable, however, with a boutique liquor company he had to turn down.
“It wasn’t that I’m not down with a liquor sponsor,” Weinbender says. “It was just a weird liquor I never drink, so why would I take their money and have their logo all over our shit?”
The moment the words leave Weinbender’s mouth I realize how heavily the values of No Idea Records have been incorporated into the Fest. No Idea, the record label that helps put on the Fest, is also the label whose bands set precedent for how acts should be treated during the event.
It all makes sense: No Idea’s records are all put out on a handshake – there are no contracts - so why shouldn’t No Idea’s music festival be the same way? The initial idea behind the Fest was to do something different and that is just what the people behind the event have done.
“I didn’t like what was going on and I wanted to do a festival, so I did,” Weinbender explains. “If someone doesn’t like it, they can put on their own festival.”
And so, just as I learned that presents were not magically delivered through my parents’ fireplace, I now know that the elements of my favorite annual party do not magically click into place like jigsaw pieces. They have to be roughly hewn to fit as best they can. Wonder, too, has now been replaced with appreciation. I know now that there is no magic involved, only strenuous planning and dumb luck.
At least I still have the Easter Bunny to believe in.