It is 7 in the morning and I’m still drunk. The remnants of last night live in much more than my blood-alcohol level — they dwell within my heart and mind. Last night was one of the most volatile nights that I’ve experienced within this care-free summer.

However, I have responsibilities—with this paper, as well as my friends. I need to collect myself, write some interview questions, meet with my photographer—who I guess is also the editor-in-chief of this publication—and eventually mosey over to the MAHA Music Festival.
The drive from Lincoln to Omaha slows things down.

Trapped in the confines of my Volkswagen Jetta, Jacob Zlomke and I slowly and solemnly come to the uncomfortable realization that we are, in fact, completely and utterly unprepared for what lies ahead of us—a shot at legitimacy.

The publication in which you are reading this was founded a mere two and a half years ago. This is our first legitimate foray into the field of entertainment journalism—the Maha Music Festival. We received press passes—for some reason—and were granted access to everything the Omaha music scene had to offer. At first, I thought this festival—which headlined with the overtly emotional and whiny, Dashboard Confessional last year—was going to be a complete and utter joke that would not lead to any stunning progressions for us as a paper.

But suddenly, we arrived. The media room was in the upper banquet room of Rick’s Boatyard Café, which is much swankier than I would have ever presumed.

Luckily for us, the entirety of the restaurant’s staff was equally, if not more unprepared than we were.

At first, when we told them we needed to know where the media room was, absolutely no one on staff had any idea what we were talking about. Jacob and I suddenly started to panic, what if we had completely missed the media session, and our first venture into legitimate journalism was all for not, simply because we are both irresponsible enough to not drink three bottles of tequila on the eve of what could be the biggest day for this publication to date?

Fuck it, during our drive to Maha, I handed Jacob my tape recorder and asked him to say whatever it was that was on his mind. Meagerly, he muttered a few words: “it’s 10:36 in the morning, and Alex and I are headed to cover the Maha music festival…we’re really unprepared…and still drunk…we wrote some questions in the car, but I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Jacob paused, “it’s the only way we know.”

Exactly, Maha—much like this paper—is still in its toddler years. This is Maha’s second year in existence—compared to the DailyER’s two and half years—and they are growing. Despite last year’s mediocre lineup, Maha has grown, now headlining with Spoon, Superchunk, the Faint and Ben Kweller.

Shortly after arriving in the press area, Jacob and I were thrown a curveball—there was zero press access to the bands, despite their previous promises that a press conference would be had; now things had changed.

After sitting down, and thinking about how the hell we could get away with interviewing some of the bands, we came up with a desperate, but surprisingly effective method of getting interviews. Whenever any of the local bands finished performing, we ran all the way around the festival—which is a surprisingly long hike—and attacked whoever it may be that was exiting the stage. The bands got a kick out of it, a couple of young college students scrambling about, trying to interview people far more significant than themselves.

Though the actual execution of the concert is still very much a work in progress, the acts certainly were not. Despite several difficulties and setbacks—the concert was delayed an hour, Ben Kweller’s flight was canceled and fears of not selling out could be heard coming from every single member of the Maha staff—the festival was littered with surprisingly high-quality local bands.

When the festival finally began, and the hangover from last night slowly started to creep up on us, the crowd—still a mere fraction of those that would come for the headliners—waited quietly and patiently for the first band—Voodoo Method—to get things started—and they did.

Based out of Omaha and eager out of their minds, Voodoo Method opened with a show stopping number, filled with a soulful arrangement of wails, moans and sexy lyrics. Voodoo Method is a band anchored by Lead Singer/Performer Pierre Minor. Minor performs like he may be executed after the show if he doesn’t wake everyone up.

The festival-goers all look beautiful today, or at least Minor thinks so—even his sound check seems like it may be his last chance to perform for all the pretty people he sees in front of him.
After Voodoo’s set, we were able to catch up with Minor and ask him about his day. Still out of breathe from his set; wearing his standard sleeves-rolled white button up dress shirt, clad in Ira Glass specs, he is ecstatic.

I ask what he thinks about the development of Maha and what it means to the Omaha music scene. He spits out some words between his panting: “oh man, this is so, so good for the scene,” he pauses. “And this is our first fest, our first big ticket event and it just makes sense, we hope this thing just goes on and on and on, we just need an official fest for the Omaha music scene. And I just hope it comes back soon.”

His excitement isn’t abnormal among those behind the Maha music festival, one of the minds put to work in creating this fest, is a man who goes by ‘E.J.’. And believe it or not, but he has high expectations for not only this year’s Maha, but for the festival moving forward.
When we ask him what he wants from the festival in the future, and without any delay for thought, he snaps “more days.” Which, of course hinges on one of the other main objectives: selling out the fest.

The higher ups at Maha aren’t dumb; they know that without a high turnout this year, there is no way to legitimately invest in adding more days to a financially insecure festival.
This doesn’t change E.J.’s unwavering confidence; they’re already shopping around for larger venues for the festival to be held in the future and if the trend from last year’s lineup to this year’s continues, the festival will grow.

After talking to E.J. we notice someone behind the main stage, “it’s either a woman or Ben Kweller,” Jacob tells me. But we don’t have access back stage, and are too nervous to try and flag down what potentially might not even be Ben Kweller. So we decided to try and make good with the main security guard: Tony.

I approach him, trying to accentuate my press pass and notepad: “hey, would it be too much to ask for you to go ask Ben Kweller if we can interview him for a few minutes?” I ask.
“Sure!” Tony the Security Guard responds, with immense fervor.

That was way too easy, we thought, and waited for 30 seconds while Tony did our beckoning for us.

When he came back the news startled us, “he’ll come talk to you guys in about five minutes.”
Journalism is easy, and as we waited for Ben Kweller to make his way over to us, Jacob and I mulled over all the questions we had written down, given we had the opportunity to talk to him.
He came over, clad in a sun hat and black shades, Ben Kweller, giving a couple 19 year-old college journalists time out of his day. We talked, asked him questions and gawked over the fact that we were talking to Ben Kweller.

Despite all the questions we asked about music, the thing he seemed the most interested in talking about was simply how he got to the festival.

“I got a call from American Airlines at 2 a.m telling me that my flight was canceled,” Ben told us. “And then I went into straight Macgyver mode, just looking for whatever way I could find to make it to Maha.” Fortunately he found a way.

The Faint rung in the night, Spoon gave the people what they wanted and Maha sold out. Somehow, amid all the disarray that had begun that morning when everyone at Maha—including us—was scrambling to try and figure out what the hell was going on, it worked.

And when the sun goes down and the Faint start playing “How Could I Forget” there wasn’t any amount of turmoil that could have ruined the strikingly authentic feel that Maha gave to all of its beautiful patrons. And that authentic feel will keep the baby festival healthy, hopefully for years to come.