Let me start by saying this: I love music. I live for the sound of live instruments, lyricism, and the electric energy of a crowd moving as one. I’m a proud daughter of Philadelphia and a loyal fan of the culture that raised me. But this year’s Roots Picnic? It was a slap in the face to all of that.
This was my second year attending. Last year, I was glowing. The experience was magical—organized, joyful, and worth every penny of my gold ticket. I even wrote about how seamless the weekend felt. So this year, I upped the ante: I brought a friend, eager to show them how Philly shows out when it’s time to celebrate music.
Instead, I found myself apologizing for hours…