If you’re in a band, the turn of the new year marks the time when you start thinking about applying to festivals – from Doe Bay to Treefort to Sasquatch to Bumbershoot. We here at The Monarch Review thought it would be fun to reach out to a couple festival organizers to get their take on some favorite – and not so favorite – moments about the festivals they put on. Eric Gilbert, who runs Boise’s Treefort, and Adam Zacks, who runs Sasquatch, answered One Super Important Question.

Jake Uitti: What are the best and worst surprise you’ve come across in the years that you’ve been putting on Treefort? 

Eric Gilbert: Best surprise: Dan Deacon not only helping me tolerate Bohemian Rhapsody for the first time since Wayne’s World, but bringing me to singing along and being legitimately moved by the song for the first time ever.

Worst surprise: The puke I found in one of our little family friendly climbable treeforts early morning on the last day of Treefort 2012 as I was cleaning up the site near Alefort.  Luckily I was the first one up!

Overall, though, the most exciting thing has been all of the interest in the festival from those wanting to be involved.  That has simultaneously been the hardest thing to deal with.  So many great ideas, great bands, great artists, great and generous people willing to give their time and energy in a wide variety of ways.  Effectively addressing all of the interest genuinely, productively and efficiently has been a constant challenge — as hard as it has been exciting.

Jake Uitti: What are the best and worst surprise you’ve come across in the years that you’ve been putting on Sasquatch? 

Adam Zacks: The heavyweight champion of Sasquatch surprises: Freak hailstorm of 2006! What could have been a disaster and ended the festival turned out to be a bonding moment on a mass scale.  My fondest memories are of musicians embracing the moment, like The Constantines who ratcheted their performance up several notches and played like it might be their last time on Earth, and Neko Case who battled the golf ball sized hail as long as she could and then gracefully exited the stage in her typical good humor.  This was a turning point for the audience as well.  We opened the gates so everyone could return to their campsites to get warm and safe.  For an hour anyone could go in or out of the site with or without a ticket.  The location is so remote it didn’t exactly turn into a Woodstock situation (It’s a free show now!), but it was nice to see humanity supersede commerce, if just for an hour.  Within the site people turned over picnic tables to created fort shelters and the lawns became massive slip-and-slides.  People truly looked out for each other and the collective consciousness just decided, we’re going to make the best of this.  After the stages were shut down to evaluate safety issues I remember sitting in a trailer thinking, at what point do we determine we need to cancel and how would we communicate that?  This was pre-Twitter.  In that moment, people were having fun, but what happens if the mood changes?  I remember thinking of a line in a Nada Surf song “the more it shakes, the more I have to let go.”  So, I let go of my anxiety and decided to let nature run its course.  Five minutes later, the clouds parted, the festival resumed and it was 80 degrees and bright blue sky the rest of the weekend, as if nothing had happened.  The whole experience made me realize that the group dynamics that happen at Sasquatch, and a lot of other music festivals, is special and my responsibility in the whole thing is to foster an environment where a community like that can thrive.