Solasta is intended to be that something. It’s hosted by the community, for the community. The organizers believe this DIY approach is imperative. “We have all been to those larger corporate festivals,” writes Liam. “They throw up a big stage in a hot field and sell you bottled water and shove beer ads in your face.” Indeed, no one who’s ever bought an Aquafina for five or six dollars will soon forget the sting of that experience. “You’re herded through long security checkpoints and it just feels like the purpose of the event is to make as much money as possible while caring little about the experience. Unless we all create and support the kind of events that we want to see, they just won’t happen anymore.”

Creating an authentic, homegrown underground event within the framework of the festival market is like threading a needle. A group seeks to put forward their purest ideals, but it must bend with the force of a conscious-less machine market that doesn’t give a damn about ideals. “In a broader sense,” Hasan muses, “all grassroots movements that do something right will one day expand into something more. Being able to consciously monitor that growth and actually stand by the core ideals from outset, instead of just paying them lip service, is the actual battle.”

Community and grassroots are not just buzzwords for this crew. The organizers build a sense of community into everything they do, particularly by blurring the lines between performer, staff, and audience. “Our team for Solasta is very literally embedded in every aspect of the scene,” writes Liam. “We are booking the shows, managing touring acts, checking you in at the door, rocking the clipboard in the back, making sure that you are supported during tough experiences, on the four-wheeler keeping you safe, dancing right next to you in the crowd, and up on stage.”

There’s no VIP area at this festival. “We often joke that Solasta is a producer’s festival,” says Hasan. “Last year especially that's really what it was....All the artists we book are going to be on the dance floor ripping it up. Woah! Nice, we just sold five tickets,” he says over the phone, interrupting his own train of thought. Hasan loves to talk, but he doesn’t bullshit. There’s one stage and no overlapping sets at Solasta. It’s fortunate for attendees because every set on the lineup is worth catching. There’s no “check the box” bookings here. We’re sure the producers dig this, too. They miss sought after sets sometimes, too, you know. Solasta also lowers the stage towards the ground, bringing the performer closer to eye-level with the audience.