Brianna Tade | Digital Assistant Music Director
Boise, Idaho was not a city I thought I’d find myself in– moseying through an Indigo de Souza set having just attended a talk on Indigenous land-back efforts prior to that. Or at a midnight show at the Egyptian Theatre watching a full band improvise a live score to the 1962 horror film Carnival of Souls while a live actress butchered her wedding dress with a kitchen knife. However, that is exactly where I found myself at Treefort 10 this past March. I sure as hell did not know what to expect from attending a five-day music festival in Idaho, considering this was the first-ever music festival that I have attended, but I can guarantee that you’ll see me at Treefort next year, and here’s why.
I imagined Treefort to be an overstimulating, back-to-back festival that would leave my hearing shot, my bank account pathetic, and me: sandwiched between BuzzFeed millennials and a rail. I was proven hysterically wrong (except for the hearing part). When people say “music festival”, I presume that anyone who lives on the West Coast might think of Coachella, Stagecoach, or Outside Lands: the music money-grab trinity. Treefort felt more intentional. For one, the entire festival is mainly volunteer-led. Co-founder and producer of Treefort, Lori Shandro, describes Treefort as “. . .a place built by the community and for the community”. Instead of being held in a large park or barren desert, something that makes Treefort so special is that it is scattered around the sky country city of Boise. Whether you were at Main Stage which was a parking lot right behind an apartment building, stumbling into a small bar that radiated with music you could hear from across the street, or cozying in at the back of a coffee shop show, Treefort is definitely for everyone. The forts that made an appearance this year were Alefort, Artfort, Comedyfort, Dragfort, Filmfort, Foodfort, Hackfort, Kidfort, Tattoofort, Music Talks, Podcasts, Storyfort, and Yogafort. Yeah, it’s safe to say that I was not able to hit all that I intended to. But the plethora of events happening throughout the day and into the night (and more often than not, into the early mornings) truly made the city of Boise come alive. While chatting with other festival-goers, it was clear that Treefort brought in a diverse community of people while keeping the authentic heart and community of Boise beating.
The Treefort 10 Press recap revealed that the festival hit a record-high of performing artists and bands by bringing in more than 500 artists and a total of 25,000 attendees. 55% of the attendees were Boise locals and 45% traveled from out of state, yours truly included. In terms of staff and community involvement, there were “165 staff and crew members, 25 venue managers, nearly 40 sound and light technicians, and roughly 600 volunteers”. That means that the volunteer presence was that of almost 4 times as large as the staff and crew. The way that volunteer eligibility works for Treefort is that prospective volunteers will pay a $30 registration fee and receive a five-day General Admissions wristband and shirt. Not a bad gig at all. They are required to work 15 hours, which only comes out to about 3 shifts that you get to choose, with the exception that volunteers are required to work at least one evening shift. The upside about getting to choose your shifts is that volunteers can schedule their shifts accordingly so that they are not missing bands or artists they are wanting to see. Volunteers as young as 14 are eligible to be volunteers, and those under 21 are only required to work 10 hours. My social work brain is itching to tell you why this is amazing to me. Self-governed and community-led organizations, events, or movements always bring a deeper aspect of intentionality and authenticity to the work that is meant to happen. If Treefort were to pour in a bunch of hired staff that were from everywhere but Boise, Treefort would not be the same eccentric, vibrant, and authentic love fest that it is.
Now for the art. In terms of music, the most memorable shows for me were the Wednesday night performance by Ghost Funk Orchestra who so easily got the entirety of KDUP staff dancing, Indigo de Souza at Main Stage in the blazing, Boise sun (you should have seen my fanny pack tan), and Canadian folk artist Abigail Lapell’s midday set that made me want to take a drive out to the Gorge. Art was everywhere. In fact, I was ten minutes late to Abigail Lapell’s set because I got sucked in by a free poem booth hosted by J. Reuben Appelman who required me to sit for ten minutes in silence as he wrote me a poem, all while filming a live stream of his writing process that he will be turning into an NFT. I think his words are folded up somewhere still in my luggage. I then coordinated with Abigail Lapell’s manager and herself to set up a quick interview and had a great conversation with her about being on the road, the pandemic, and Sharon Van Etten (find my interview article with Abigail somewhere else on this site for more!). We danced into the night and into many a midnight venue yet somehow got up the next morning to tend to interviews and a cooking class on traditional Filipino dishes. It was in this 24-hour block of time from Thursday to Friday that I realized just how many mediums of art and expression Treefort had to offer. I rested my feet at the Egyptian Theatre by attending a discussion facilitated by Black and Indigenous activist, Tai Simpson, as she talked about what it meant to be Black and Indigenous in Idaho along with why we need to advocate for giving land that we live on back to Indigenous tribes. While a music festival may be a seemingly odd place to host a live discussion on anti-racist efforts and land-back policies, I found it to be perfectly rooted in the core of what Treefort was. If this festival is meant to be by and for the community, it seems almost necessary to include and uplift voices of the community that are disproportionately washed out and marginalized.
There is something about Treefort, or even Boise in general, that truly makes the experience so memorable. I don’t know if it was the $5 Ubers or the glorious Sunday brunch spot that cured our souls (we’re gatekeeping it for selfish reasons) before the drive home, but I would surely recommend almost anyone who asks to go to Treefort next year. It’s the post-spring-break Spring Break that you need, especially if you’re looking to revamp your Spotify playlists and experience various art forms on another level. I better see that orange wristband up in the air when I run into you at Main Stage next year.
This is our first article covering Treefort 10. Click here to see our other Treefort articles.