MIRAMAR BEACH, Fla. — A little more than an hour before the first act takes the stage at the Moon Crush Pink Moon music festival, concert promoter Andy Levine circles up a crew of about 150 for a last-minute pep talk before the gates open.
“Hey we had no lines anywhere yesterday. Woo! Zero,” Levine says before leading a group mantra of “keep on trucking.” The workers then fan out across the festival grounds, built out on a former golf driving range in this Florida panhandle town.
“This is my first Moon Crush and my first time in Miramar and I don’t think I’m leaving,” Nashville singer-songwriter Cassandra Lewis tells the crowd before playing her set.
Levine has created a new kind of vacation music festival here, taking ashore something he honed at sea as the founder of Sixthman, the music cruise promoter.
He says the idea is a music fest without the usual long lines and competing acts, and one that gives both artists and fans a more meaningful experience.
Concept grew out of the pandemic
Levine came up with the concept during the height of the COVID pandemic when his family was spending time on this part of the Florida Gulf Coast. And they weren’t the only ones.
“I see all these people coming down and being distanced, but still being together with their group,” Levine says. “And I was like, I bet we could put something together in a safe way.”
So he set out to get people back listening to live music in April 2021, convincing a resort to let him use an unused golf driving range. The resort liked the idea of attracting music tourists during their off season.
“They gave me a weekend and we called Jason Isbell and we called NEEDTOBREATHE and called Sheryl Crow,” he recalls. “And as far as I know, we were the first multi-day destination vacation to take place after COVID.”
The driving range grounds were divided into 1,500 sections, called coves, each roped off and stocked with folding chairs. Concertgoers could order concessions and merchandise via an app, and the goods were delivered right to their cove, which kept people from congregating in lines.
“As guests were leaving, I had so many just whisper to me to say, ‘Hey, don't change this cove thing.’ ”
Levine has been putting on several shows a year ever since with his new venture, called Topeka Live. Levine says he took the name from a scene in the movie Almost Famous.
Topeka hires more than 100 local people to work the concerts, showing people to their seats, running food and drink, and working the gate.
Chief Operating Officer Anthony Diaz, Levine’s college fraternity brother and former bandmate, estimates nearly 60% of festivalgoers are repeat customers who come back because of the personal attention they get, a kind of VIP treatment for everyone.
“We massively care about the guests’ experience,” Diaz says. “Taking insights from the guests, putting them in action.”
The appeal of a small venue with personal service
People can hang out on the beach by day then catch three or four acts each night. It’s a small venue, with one stage, and an audience of just under 5,000, giving it an intimate, laid-back vibe.
“It's about flip flops, not sandals. It's not about how shiny things are. It's like, who are you with?” says Levine. “Moon Crush the brand is about not letting a full moon pass without crushing on the people you love.”
“Welcome back! Good to see you,” Amy and Morgan Whitfield from Houston greet concertgoers they met at last year’s Moon Crush.
Amy, adorned in glitter, is decorating their cove.
“It lights up at night,” she says as she puts up signs that say “good vibes” and replicas of musical notes and vinyl records. “These are pink moons that will light up tonight.”
Tickets to reserve a cove for all four days of Moon Crush start at around $500. The Whitfields are music festival aficionados, and have taken to this one.
“It’s not giant like most festivals where they’re just trying to get as much people squished together as they can,” Morgan says. “And it’s super comfortable. They deliver you booze and food and fun and the lineup has been excellent.”
“Don’t let the word get too out though,” warns Amy. “We don’t want everyone coming in droves.”
It also has artists coming back for more. Grammy winning singer-songwriter Brandi Carlile curated her second “Mothership Weekend” festival over Mother’s Day weekend, bringing in acts she wants to showcase, including Bonnie Raitt, Nickel Creek and Sara Bareilles.
“Mothership is a celebration of matriarchy and whatever that means to you,” says Carlile in an interview with NPR from the beach house her family stays in during the three-day concert.
A more potent connection with fans
She says these festivals are a different kind of model where she can try new ways to relate to the people who love her music — her so called “Bramily.” She calls it getting in their day.
“Assimilate into the crowd; find a way to eat dinner with everybody,” Carlile says. “Find a way to kind of erase the illusion of the pedestal that is a stage.”
By the time Carlile takes the stage Sunday night, there’s a close-knit family feel. She brings her own family out to help celebrate Mother’s Day.
Carlile says she has known Andy Levine since her early days playing on cruise ships and finds it’s easy to translate some of that experience to land. Before the weekend is out, she’s spent time with her fans on the beach for a round of “Brandioke” where she sings songs they have written. There was a deep sea fishing tournament that she bet her dad would win (he did not), and she spun records for a silent disco called “Shut up and dance.”
“Something like this is I'm on vacation, too,” she says.
On the festival grounds, she points fans to an action village where they can engage in local activism and philanthropy, including registering to vote or joining groups advocating for equal rights in Florida.
Carlile says she has the freedom to try unorthodox activities at Mothership, a far cry from being out on tour doing big concert venues.
“I don't mean to be controversial or critical, but it's getting really homogenous and really corporate, really difficult to transcend that corporate experience and actually connect with your audience,” says Carlile. “I can control Mothership to where I feel like I can be in community with my fans in a more potent and powerful way.”
As fans entered the venue on Sunday, Topeka staff handed out tiny pots of succulent plants as a celebration of motherhood. Carol Simple chose one to take back to her cove that she’s sharing with her husband, Chuck. The retirees from Boulder, Colo., say they’re familiar with the promoter from music cruises and wanted to check out this onshore version of a vacation music festival. They say it’s a good fit.
“You don’t have to get here early and think about where you’re going to sit,” says Carol. “We’re older. We’re 73. You don’t want to go and stand the whole time or fight for where you get a seat.”
“We’ve been doing this a long time,” says Chuck, who appreciates the detail taken to make their experience pleasant.
Promoters say the audience here does skew older than, say, what you might find at Coachella. This fall, they’re adding three shows, including a Cowboy Moon festival curated by Lyle Lovett.
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