I recently found myself in the middle of America, at 3pm, sweating profusely, eating a pulled pork sandwich, listening to Zedd blast thousands of fans with throbbing house music.
Story and photos by Morgan Maassen
This was probably the furthest I’ve ever ventured away from my usual tropical beaches and I felt freakishly out of place. But as Zedd’s fans glistened in a sea of sweat and those inflatable rave batons, I realized how free I was. I had no obligations to anyone but myself. No models, assistants, art directors, stylists, producers. No tear sheets and no deadlines. I was at Austin City Limits, there to take photos on my own accord, and see as many bands as my humidity-stricken and France time-zone body could handle.
Foster The People had all the teens swooning.
I first saw Beck when I was 13 years old, 11 years ago. He is better than ever, a musical God.
Lana Del Rey was one of the headliners, and she sang to Ultraviolence with technical perfection. I’m a fan now.
Spoon had a core audience that lost their minds to how well they played with melting emotion and musical mastery.
Spoon’s Britt Daniel made the most of their hour on stage.
With or without drugs, Calvin Harris’s set was so intense it took the whole audience to another level.