Music may enrich our memories of a time and place, but at festivals, it only tells half the story; the only real constant are the attendees.

At Governors Ball, which is finally “hitting its stride” according to The New York Times, the two get along, but aren’t a match made in heaven. The music lover in me remembers a tainted story, one that was muggy, muddy, and mostly underage; four stages of world class talent performing to a crowd that was having the time of its life but only while halfway listening.  And while it remembers Ratatat slaying, ripping through their first NYC performance in almost four years, it also recalls obnoxious tweenage groping, $13 Miller Lites, and crushing sound problems galore. It remembers a weekend awash in a sea of macrame crop tops and balloon chain eye candy.

Now that that photo’s painted, take it back a notch. The festival isn’t trying to be the next music lovers’ paradise (Bonnaroo) or the trendiest place to be this summer (Coachella) or a close-to-home musical getaway (Firefly). It’s a fast-paced social urban festival with little seating, lots of shuffling, sets that only go till midnight and several choices of transit to shuttle you to the afterparty of your choice.