We Didn’t Have to Be There to Get It

Texans know how to celebrate. But we also know how to feel. And this year, Coachella didn’t need to be local for it to hit. We watched it on porches in Dallas, between shifts in Houston, and streamed it in late-night silence across Austin—each moment soaking in deeper than expected.

Some of us were just looking for a little distraction. But what we got was something real. Something emotional. Something that stayed.

Gaga Didn’t Just Take the Stage—She Took Us Through It

There’s always a lot of noise around Lady Gaga, but this time? It was stripped. Exposed. Intentionally messy. And we loved her for it.

Her five-act set played like a goodbye letter to all her past selves—laid to rest in front of a crowd that didn’t know whether to dance or cry. It was weird. It was heavy. It was gorgeous. And watching it from Texas made it feel even closer.

And when Gesaffelstein showed up, the whole thing tilted into some industrial dreamscape that didn’t make sense—but absolutely worked. It was art. The kind that doesn’t ask permission to hit you where it hurts.

Green Day Lit the Desert—and the Group Chat—on Fire

We didn’t know we needed Green Day again until they showed up with a set that tore the roof off a sky that didn’t have one.

They screamed. They swore. They set a palm tree on fire (on accident, but still). And then they brought out The Go-Go’s, because why the hell not? The whole thing felt like a protest, a party, and a therapy session rolled into one.

And in Texas, where we’ve got our own kind of complicated history with loud honesty, it just made sense. We turned the volume up.

The Guests Were Pure Chaos—and We Were All In

Charli XCX invited Billie Eilish, Lorde, and Troye Sivan on stage like she was throwing the coolest sleepover in the world.

Bernie Sanders introduced Clairo, and somehow it wasn’t cringe—it was touching. Someone in Fort Worth texted “Why am I crying over Bernie?” and no one questioned it.

Benson Boone singing “Bohemian Rhapsody” with Brian May? Should’ve been weird. Instead, it was magic.

Then the LA Philharmonic showed up and made us feel like we were watching a Star Wars sequel scored by our favorite Spotify playlist. Zedd, LL Cool J, Maren Morris—all of it worked. Somehow.

Posty Felt Like Home

Post Malone could sing his grocery list and we’d still tune in. But this set? It felt like he was singing for us.

Texas knows him as one of our own. And when he sang “I Fall Apart,” it felt like every heartbreak we’ve ever stuffed down rose to the surface, quiet and raw.

He didn’t overdo it. He just showed up with heart and let the words do the work. That’s Texas energy right there.

Travis Scott, too—chaotic, proud, fiery. But even in the fire, there was softness. A pause to shout out his daughter, Stormi, and suddenly we were reminded: you can be loud and still lead with love.

We Watched How We Do Everything—Big, Proud, and a Little Sentimental

We had the YouTube multiview, the Coachella app, and enough chips and queso to feed the whole street. We didn’t need to be in the desert to feel it.

Texas brought its own atmosphere to the screen. From patio TVs in San Antonio to laptops balanced on pickup dashboards, we turned Coachella into our own thing. We always do.

Final Thought—It Might’ve Been a West Coast Festival, But It Hit Texas Straight in the Chest

Maybe we weren’t under the Coachella lights. But in a way, that made it better. It gave us space to listen. To cry. To scream a little without an audience.

Whether you were in a packed Austin apartment or alone in a Houston backyard watching Gaga rebuild herself in real time, you were part of it.

We didn’t just watch Coachella 2025.

We felt it—in true Texas fashion.