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With weekends one and two of Coachella 2017 now in the history books, has officially begun. These multi-day experiences have seen incredible growth over the last decade, in large part due to millennials’ preference to spend their hard earned money on experiences over things. attend at least one event in the US each year. About half of these attendees are millennials who you can bet are relying heavily on their smartphones to navigate the festival. According to a study by Harris Interactive, 31% of millennials report using their phones for more than half of the festival, with only 15% saying they never touch it while they’re there. music festival season Billboard estimates that 32 million people Tech’s Penetration Concert organizers, promoters and event-focused tech companies have taken advantage of the parallel trends of increasing attendance at events and the proliferation of mobile technology to introduce new ways to measure and monetize their audience. Nearly every festival in 2017 will have an official app for attendees to view lineups, personalize their schedules, access maps and more. With more than half of all attendees at larger (100K+ attendees) festivals downloading these apps, there’s a massive opportunity for a big data play and several innovators in the space, like . Organizers are using different forms of technology to collect valuable data from their attendees and that data can be used to improve the fan experience and make data driven decisions for future events. Aloompa, are already taking advantage How It Works The App The primary method for data collection is the official festival app. Instead of trying to hang onto a piece of paper during the festival or remember specific set times and stages, users are encouraged to download the app as a free supplement to their visit. The core feature set of a standard festival app allows users to browse the schedule and select their favorite artists to create a personalized lineup and view a map of the grounds. In some cases, festival apps let users build playlists through a streaming service integration, look up places to eat and drink, and interact with other users on social networks. Some even have VR/AR features, such as the official Coachella app which included a Google Cardboard viewer in the ticket box that was sent out in 2016. When attendees use these features, especially the schedule builder, the app collects granular data on user actions. Beacons When a user downloads the app and enables the right permissions, they open themselves up to the ability to interacting with Bluetooth Low Energy (BLE) beacons placed strategically around the festival grounds. Beacons can connect to the apps to collect very accurate data on the movement of people around the festival including how many people were at any one show. Beacons can also be used to push out micro-targeted push notifications to users in a specific area to announce a promotion. The Coachella app lets users link their Spotify accounts to build a playlist based on artists they visited through remembering the beacons they interacted with to remember their time at the event. RFID Wristbands Wristbands have been a near ubiquitous replacement for tickets and have been for years at all major festivals. They help expedite the check in process by removing the need for a human to scan each person that walks in. Often users are encouraged to connect the wristband to the app, and then to their Facebook account, which allows organizers to build a detailed profile of an attendee, their musical tastes, and their journey through the festival. A more recent innovation adds cashless payments to the RFID chips, which increases revenue by making it even easier to buy that $10 beer without feeling the sting of taking cash out of your wallet. The Impact Clearly oodles of data are being collected about us at music festivals, and unless you cut off your wristband after being let in (never a good idea), it’s pretty much impossible to avoid it. So the questions are: how are festivals using this information, and is this a good thing for the attendee? The most important data points for organizers are collected from the app schedule builder and beacons. When people build their schedule in the app it indicates which artists are most popular and who people are most excited to see. Some apps even implement a leaderboard showing the most added artists. While the schedule builder shows who people to see, data collected from a combination of beacons and geofenced areas show which artists fans went to see, and can even show how much time they spent at a show. The analytics can also be used to see the journey a fan takes throughout the festival to build a profile of what artists a certain visitor sees. intend actually This data helps inform future events to make booking and scheduling decisions. Organizers can see which artists a single user might want to see to avoid scheduling conflicts and which might be okay to overlap on separate stages. They can make more data driven decisions on how much to pay artists, as a band that’s valuable in a solo concert might be less popular in a festival environment. These data points can provide a different perspective on festival habits than from traditional metrics like album sales, song streams, social chatter, or even concert attendance. Although this data is largely being collected without attendees fully understanding the scope of it, it can be argued that all sides benefit. All data is anonymized and deidentified before the tech vendor provides statistics to organizers, and user data is not being sold to third parties for invasive marketing tactics. The primary goal of the data collection is to enhance the festival experience for the fan, even if someone is making money off of it on the side. Conclusion As music festivals grow in popularity, there’s no doubt that tech will continue to have a large impact. From an on the box the tickets are sent in to to , festivals provide the perfect playground for emerging tech companies to try out new ideas with a young and tech savvy audience that is open to giving most anything a shot. augmented reality experience drone acrobatics during shows Doppler Labs augmented reality hearing devices

Music Festivals Are Leaning On Tech To Build The ‘Perfect’ Lineups

The Golden Road by L. M. Montgomery, is part of the HackerNoon Books Series. You can jump to any chapter in this book here . THE RAPE OF THE LOCK CHAPTER XV. THE RAPE OF THE LOCK June was crowded full of interest that year. We gathered in with its sheaf of fragrant days the choicest harvest of childhood. Things happened right along. Cecily declared she hated to go to sleep for fear she might miss something. There were so many dear delights along the golden road to give us pleasure—the earth dappled with new blossom, the dance of shadows in the fields, the rustling, rain-wet ways of the woods, the faint fragrance in meadow lanes, liltings of birds and croon of bees in the old orchard, windy pipings on the hills, sunset behind the pines, limpid dews filling primrose cups, crescent moons through darklings boughs, soft nights alight with blinking stars. We enjoyed all these boons, unthinkingly and light-heartedly, as children do. And besides these, there was the absorbing little drama of human life which was being enacted all around us, and in which each of us played a satisfying part—the gay preparations for Aunt Olivia’s mid-June wedding, the excitement of practising for the concert with which our school-teacher, Mr. Perkins, had elected to close the school year, and Cecily’s troubles with Cyrus Brisk, which furnished unholy mirth for the rest of us, though Cecily could not see the funny side of it at all. Matters went from bad to worse in the case of the irrepressible Cyrus. He continued to shower Cecily with notes, the spelling of which showed no improvement; he worried the life out of her by constantly threatening to fight Willy Fraser—although, as Felicity sarcastically pointed out, he never did it. “But I’m always afraid he will,” said Cecily, “and it would be such a DISGRACE to have two boys fighting over me in school.” “You must have encouraged Cyrus a little in the beginning or he’d never have been so persevering,” said Felicity unjustly. “I never did!” cried outraged Cecily. “You know very well, Felicity King, that I hated Cyrus Brisk ever since the very first time I saw his big, fat, red face. So there!” “Felicity is just jealous because Cyrus didn’t take a notion to her instead of you, Sis,” said Dan. “Talk sense!” snapped Felicity. “If I did you wouldn’t understand me, sweet little sister,” rejoined aggravating Dan. Finally Cyrus crowned his iniquities by stealing the denied lock of Cecily’s hair. One sunny afternoon in school, Cecily and Kitty Marr asked and received permission to sit out on the side bench before the open window, where the cool breeze swept in from the green fields beyond. To sit on this bench was always considered a treat, and was only allowed as a reward of merit; but Cecily and Kitty had another reason for wishing to sit there. Kitty had read in a magazine that sun-baths were good for the hair; so both she and Cecily tossed their long braids over the window-sill and let them hang there in the broiling sun-shine. And while Cecily sat thus, diligently working a fraction sum on her slate, that base Cyrus asked permission to go out, having previously borrowed a pair of scissors from one of the big girls who did fancy work at the noon recess. Outside, Cyrus sneaked up close to the window and cut off a piece of Cecily’s hair. This rape of the lock did not produce quite such terrible consequences as the more famous one in Pope’s poem, but Cecily’s soul was no less agitated than Belinda’s. She cried all the way home from school about it, and only checked her tears when Dan declared he’d fight Cyrus and make him give it up. “Oh, no, You mustn’t.” said Cecily, struggling with her sobs. “I won’t have you fighting on my account for anything. And besides, he’d likely lick you—he’s so big and rough. And the folks at home might find out all about it, and Uncle Roger would never give me any peace, and mother would be cross, for she’d never believe it wasn’t my fault. It wouldn’t be so bad if he’d only taken a little, but he cut a great big chunk right off the end of one of the braids. Just look at it. I’ll have to cut the other to make them fair—and they’ll look so awful stubby.” But Cyrus’ acquirement of the chunk of hair was his last triumph. His downfall was near; and, although it involved Cecily in a most humiliating experience, over which she cried half the following night, in the end she confessed it was worth undergoing just to get rid of Cyrus. Mr. Perkins was an exceedingly strict disciplinarian. No communication of any sort was permitted between his pupils during school hours. Anyone caught violating this rule was promptly punished by the infliction of one of the weird penances for which Mr. Perkins was famous, and which were generally far worse than ordinary whipping. One day in school Cyrus sent a letter across to Cecily. Usually he left his effusions in her desk, or between the leaves of her books; but this time it was passed over to her under cover of the desk through the hands of two or three scholars. Just as Em Frewen held it over the aisle Mr. Perkins wheeled around from his station before the blackboard and caught her in the act. “Bring that here, Emmeline,” he commanded. Cyrus turned quite pale. Em carried the note to Mr. Perkins. He took it, held it up, and scrutinized the address. “Did you write this to Cecily, Emmeline?” he asked. “No, sir.” “Who wrote it then?” Em said quite shamelessly that she didn’t know—it had just been passed over from the next row. “And I suppose you have no idea where it came from?” said Mr. Perkins, with his frightful, sardonic grin. “Well, perhaps Cecily can tell us. You may take your seat, Emmeline, and you will remain at the foot of your spelling class for a week as punishment for passing the note. Cecily, come here.” Indignant Em sat down and poor, innocent Cecily was haled forth to public ignominy. She went with a crimson face. “Cecily,” said her tormentor, “do you know who wrote this letter to you?” Cecily, like a certain renowned personage, could not tell a lie. “I—I think so, sir,” she murmured faintly. “Who was it?” “I can’t tell you that,” stammered Cecily, on the verge of tears. “Ah!” said Mr. Perkins politely. “Well, I suppose I could easily find out by opening it. But it is very impolite to open other people’s letters. I think I have a better plan. Since you refuse to tell me who wrote it, open it yourself, take this chalk, and copy the contents on the blackboard that we may all enjoy them. And sign the writer’s name at the bottom.” “Oh,” gasped Cecily, choosing the lesser of two evils, “I’ll tell you who wrote it—it was— “Hush!” Mr. Perkins checked her with a gentle motion of his hand. He was always most gentle when most inexorable. “You did not obey me when I first ordered you to tell me the writer. You cannot have the privilege of doing so now. Open the note, take the chalk, and do as I command you.” Worms will turn, and even meek, mild, obedient little souls like Cecily may be goaded to the point of wild, sheer rebellion. “I—I won’t!” she cried passionately. Mr. Perkins, martinet though he was, would hardly, I think, have inflicted such a punishment on Cecily, who was a favourite of his, had he known the real nature of that luckless missive. But, as he afterwards admitted, he thought it was merely a note from some other girl, of such trifling sort as school-girls are wont to write; and moreover, he had already committed himself to the decree, which, like those of Mede and Persian, must not alter. To let Cecily off, after her mad defiance, would be to establish a revolutionary precedent. “So you really think you won’t?” he queried smilingly. “Well, on second thoughts, you may take your choice. Either you will do as I have bidden you, or you will sit for three days with”—Mr. Perkins’ eye skimmed over the school-room to find a boy who was sitting alone—“with Cyrus Brisk.” This choice of Mr. Perkins, who knew nothing of the little drama of emotions that went on under the routine of lessons and exercises in his domain, was purely accidental, but we took it at the time as a stroke of diabolical genius. It left Cecily no choice. She would have done almost anything before she would have sat with Cyrus Brisk. With flashing eyes she tore open the letter, snatched up the chalk, and dashed at the blackboard. In a few minutes the contents of that letter graced the expanse usually sacred to more prosaic compositions. I cannot reproduce it verbatim, for I had no after opportunity of refreshing my memory. But I remember that it was exceedingly sentimental and exceedingly ill-spelled—for Cecily mercilessly copied down poor Cyrus’ mistakes. He wrote her that he wore her hare over his hart—“and he stole it,” Cecily threw passionately over her shoulder at Mr. Perkins—that her eyes were so sweet and lovely that he couldn’t find words nice enuf to describ them, that he could never forget how butiful she had looked in prar meeting the evening before, and that some meels he couldn’t eat for thinking of her, with more to the same effect and he signed it “yours till deth us do part, Cyrus Brisk.” As the writing proceeded we scholars exploded into smothered laughter, despite our awe of Mr. Perkins. Mr. Perkins himself could not keep a straight face. He turned abruptly away and looked out of the window, but we could see his shoulders shaking. When Cecily had finished and had thrown down the chalk with bitter vehemence, he turned around with a very red face. “That will do. You may sit down. Cyrus, since it seems you are the guilty person, take the eraser and wipe that off the board. Then go stand in the corner, facing the room, and hold your arms straight above your head until I tell you to take them down.” Cyrus obeyed and Cecily fled to her seat and wept, nor did Mr. Perkins meddle with her more that day. She bore her burden of humiliation bitterly for several days, until she was suddenly comforted by a realization that Cyrus had ceased to persecute her. He wrote no more letters, he gazed no longer in rapt adoration, he brought no more votive offerings of gum and pencils to her shrine. At first we thought he had been cured by the unmerciful chaffing he had to undergo from his mates, but eventually his sister told Cecily the true reason. Cyrus had at last been driven to believe that Cecily’s aversion to him was real, and not merely the defence of maiden coyness. If she hated him so intensely that she would rather write that note on the blackboard than sit with him, what use was it to sigh like a furnace longer for her? Mr. Perkins had blighted love’s young dream for Cyrus with a killing frost. Thenceforth sweet Cecily kept the noiseless tenor of her way unvexed by the attentions of enamoured swains. About HackerNoon Book Series: We bring you the most important technical, scientific, and insightful public domain books. This book is part of the public domain. L. M. Montgomery (2008). The Golden Road. Urbana, Illinois: Project Gutenberg. Retrieved https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/316/pg316-images.html This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org , located at https://www.gutenberg.org/policy/license.html .

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