Getting to know: Nico Rose
Hi everyone! Nico here!
With the Mid-April launch of our band’s Substack, and the chance to share a bit of myself here, it feels like the perfect time to reflect on something that shaped me as a fan, a performer, and a dreamer. When I think about what sparked my love for live music, I always come back to Coachella.
For me, Coachella isn’t just a festival—it’s a tradition with my dad. We would take the drive to the desert, run between stages, mosh, track down shade, and try to get barricade for our most anticipated sets. My first invite came in the eighth grade. My childhood best friend and I were going with our dads—who also happen to be best friends and, to this day, the most outgoing and music-loving people I know.
They were the ones who raised us on concerts, taking us to shows all over LA when we were just kids. Because of them, I know how to navigate a crowd like a pro and have zero fear when the pit opens up. They were so deeply involved in sharing a love for music and art during such formative years of my life, and even now, some of my favorite shows are the ones I get to see with them.
While I grew up on the classics, Coachella opened the door to the culture of current music. Before Spotify was really a thing, the Coachella lineup would drop and I would research all the bands performing. I bought singles and albums off the itunes store and snagged CDs to create a playlist and STUDY. This is how I first found out about Vampire Weekend, Haim, Muse, James Blake, Anderson Paak, Chris Stapleton, Janelle Monáe, Odd Future (Tyler, The Creator), PJ Harvey—so many of the artists who would go on to shape my own music.
Our Coachella was packed—tight schedules, precise game plans, and the eternal struggle of set time conflicts. One time, I left Them Crooked Vultures early to catch La Roux play Bulletproof. Zero regrets. Another time, I chose Corinne Bailey Rae over Coheed and Cambria. She was iconic, but I have regrets. Come on, Coheed!? Sorry!!
Amidst the clashes, there were moments that left a permanent mark. The first time I cried at a show was during Neutral Milk Hotel on the outdoor stage—everyone in the crowd singing every word like it was church. I was up close for a Father John Misty set when he climbed onto the barricade and grabbed the top of my head for support while he sang a verse. And, in a rare moment of cell service, I got a text from a friend: “come to stage left fence now.” A quick weave through the crowd and I was dancing on stage with Cage the Elephant. These little flashes of magic filled me with possibility.
As time went on and everyone grew less keen on stage-hopping, we slowed things down. We’d stake out a good spot hours before a set, like Beychella, and settle in. No big need to be up front for every artist. Sitting instead of standing while the next band set up. Moving at the speed of appreciation, not urgency.
It was during those years that the dream of being in a band and performing live first formed. While I haven’t played Coachella yet, it’s always felt like the place where fans become artists. It shaped culture in real time—every lineup drop felt like a revelation, and every set felt like it could change your life. It showed me how connective and transformative live music can be. It still inspires my stage presence.
These days, it seems a little different. There are more curated moments, more people there for the content. Sometimes I catch myself missing an older Coachella—a sunburned, chaotic, unhinged version where it felt like anything could happen. But then I remember: at its core, Coachella has always been a little curated. I remember seeing, in the flesh, an unbothered Vanessa Hudgens walking around in her boho fringe and flower crowns—it was peak fashion blog culture. You wanted to look cute and catch a glimpse of celebrity. That part feels heavier now, but it’s kind of always been baked in. I don’t really know how to feel about it, maybe I just miss what it felt like in the awe of discovering live music for the first time.
Even with the cultural shifts, Coachella still has a hold on me. I have’t attended in a few years, but just last weekend, I dressed up in full Gaga glam with friends to watch her headlining set—her album is easily my favorite of the year so far.
And now, as a fan turned artist, I have these surreal moments on tour where dads bring their daughters to our shows. They tell me how much the music means to them, how special it is to share it as a family. And I get a little choked up every time. Because I was that kid. And my dad was that dad. It’s the deepest kind of full circle.
I love live music. I love being a fan. And I love where it all first made sense.
I remember those times lol. Me and klo were just talking about those days!
Just bought tickets for my
Daughter and I for the Seattle show after reading this article. Looking forward to taking her to her next concert!