Ryan Segedi’s portraits of the festival's artists, taken with portable lights in front of a simple white backdrop in the corner of the press tent, provide a more intimate look at people we’re used to seeing under colored spotlights.
Only one of these records never needs to get played again—and it’s not Suicidal Tendencies’ thrash landmark, Cypress Hill’s dark trip, or Bad Religion’s brainy skate-punk masterpiece.
Reader writers round up the locals on the bill, guide fans of hip-hop and R&B into the rest of the roster, and discuss the fest’s softening antipathy to emo, the gender balance of its bookings, and Brian Wilson’s white privilege.