NPR- A DJ is reportedly dead after the collapse of a stage during the Atmosphere dance music festival in Esteio, Brazil yesterday afternoon.
A statement from Atmosphere’s organizers posted yesterday reads: “We always cherish the safety of our attendees, following all the processes, reports and authorizations requested by the local authorities,” continuing on to say that “we lost a friend, an artist. Our priority is to assist the wounded and their families.”
According to Gauchazh, the newspaper of nearby Porto Alegre, 30-year-old DJ Kaleb Freitas was performing when the stage collapsed and was struck by debris. He was pronounced dead at a hospital. Others were also reported to have been treated for injuries, though reports conflict on the exact number of those hospitalized.
“A beautiful day, everyone happy … and in a matter of seconds everything changes, only those who where there know how horrible it was,” one festival attendee wrote.
What a nightmare. That stage collapse looked like some horrible, metal tarantula falling over in a sci-fi movie. I don’t know exactly what the event organizers were doing, letting this thing continue in the face of a fucking hurricane. Maybe I’m wrong but that weather looked like the type of weather that would make a rational person pull the plug. Instead, they rolled the dice and the entire stage came crashing down on top of the DJ’s head. And sadly, he died.
This is exactly why I no longer go to music festivals, concerts, or big outdoor events. Too many variables, too much danger, too far from my bed and a nice toilet. I went to the Hunt in New Jersey a few years ago, which is this massive day-drinking horse race in a field, and it was one of the worst decisions I’ve made since I tried to steal beer mugs at Oktoberfest. You have to take a long train out there from New York, and then you’re outside with no place to hide from the elements for about 10 hours. Your feet get soaked unless you wear boots, which most people do in an ironic, preppy nod to LL Bean. Once it’s over, you have to hike back to the train and ride back to New York. That train ride home feels like a shuttle transport for prisoners of war who have been released because the war is over. Nobody speaks and it takes forever.
Of course, there was no risk of a stage collapsing at the Hunt. But there are plenty of other risks involved, like inclement weather, a beer shortage, trench foot, and portapotty stink. That sickly-sweet, plastic-outhouse piss-shit stew smell that you’ll recall for weeks at random times like an acid trip flashback. So keep your music festivals, horse races, and outdoor day-drinking events. I’ll stay inside, alive and dry, listening to music at a respectable level because I’m a good neighbor.
RIPIP to DJ Kaleb Freitas