The road to SXSL began in March, when Obama stopped by South by Southwest for a keynote discussion on encryption and civic responsibility (and a hearty endorsement of Austin’s tacos). The appearance was spurred on by Jason Goldman, a former Twitter and Google executive, who joined the White House last April as its first chief digital officer. Goldman then spearheaded SXSL across the last seven months—first mining the president’s playlists for artists, then opening a public nominations process for attendance. Ultimately, 2,500 artists, entrepreneurs, and cultural organizers were culled from over 20,000 entries.

Cloistered in the Jacqueline Kennedy Garden, Goldman tells me, “The real success of this event will be if in six months or a year, someone’s like, ‘Oh, that’s [something] I saw for the first time at South by South Lawn.’ It could be a product, a nonprofit, an artistic movement.” He grins. “If someone forms a band, that would be great.”

Along with SXSL’s musical attractions, attendees try out interactive exhibits aimed at sustainability, sample organic snacks, and surreptitiously snap photos of roving celebrities—Ron Howard, Hannibal Buress, the “Stranger Things” cast. (I’m informed breathlessly by one attendee that, ahead of his keynote panel with Obama, Leonardo DiCaprio has been spotted vaping.) The atmosphere is professional—nary a fringed vest in sight—but even the White House staffers are a bit giddy; Goldman and his colleagues slap palms at they pass, lilting “It’s all happening!” to each other, a là Almost Famous.

Some of South by Southwest’s organizers are also onsite, but off the clock. SXSW co-founder Roland Swenson, 60, says, “This is incredibly exciting for us, and certainly not something that we ever expected to be part of.” He chuckles. “Before Obama, we tried to get Bill Clinton. But then he got in trouble.”

I ask Swenson if he finds Obama’s pop-culture savvy to be noteworthy for a politician. “He’s a product of his time and place and generation, so he was going to be more music-savvy and media-savvy than his predecessors,” he says. “I think it’s more a function of his personality as opposed to a strategy to win votes. He’s just always been a very inquisitive person, curious about music and art and ideas. That’s what we’re seeing here today.”

The Lumineers’ Schultz seems pleasantly bewildered by his surroundings. “I can’t picture any other president doing something like this,” says Schultz. “I feel like Obama’s participated in a lot of things that the average president wouldn’t even touch.”

SXSL’s evening keynote involves the president in conversation on global warming with DiCaprio and the climatologist Dr. Katharine Hayhoe. The Washington Monument looms stage left, two flashing red lights illuminating the peak, as if to stare down reproachfully while they stress the peril of carbon emissions.

Looking across the field at the rapt expressions directed at the president (not least from DiCaprio), I’m reminded of a moment eight years ago, to the month: A rainy afternoon in rural Pennsylvania when, as a volunteer coordinator for the Obama campaign, I was midway through a tough canvassing sweep in a very red industrial town. My team and I were sullen, bedraggled from both the downpour and succession of Sarah Palin zealots. We ducked into a tavern; the bartender scowled at our muddied forms, and we braced for our next showdown of the day.

He strolled over and spied our clipboards. “You’re with Obama?” he asked. We nodded wanly. He slid some shots our way, flicked at his iPod, and Stevie Wonder’s “Signed, Sealed, Delivered I’m Yours”—the Obama campaign’s theme song—filled this sudden sanctuary.

“He’s got good taste in music,” the bartender said. “It’s not everything, but it sure isn’t nothing.”