The Indescribable Energy of All Things Go DC 2025

Waking up before the sun was my new standard. For my third year of All Things Go DC, dragging myself out of bed, half-asleep and caffeine-fueled, and jumping in and out of Ubers became something of a ritual. It was invigorating, not draining. There’s something about the anticipation of such an exciting weekend, as if it hangs in the air. From the previous years I had attended the music festival, I was sure that the hours of music, new friends, and joyful chaos would make these early mornings worth it. Even standing in line at the gates for what felt like an eternity was infectious; laughing with strangers and discussing which stage we were sprinting to first was all just part of the fun. 

And then, finally, we were in. We sprinted past booths and vendors, through mud and mulch, with acorns hitting our heads, trying to avoid each other as we raced to Chrysalis or Main Stage gates, waiting for a spot on the barricades. It’s basically a full-contact sport, but the reward of being inches away from your favorite artists is so worth it. The first chord, the roar of the crowd, the lights flashing; there’s truly nothing better than live music. Throughout every set, I was taking pictures, trying to catch not only the artists but also the vibe, the little moments on stage, the emotion, and the little things that make a festival come alive. It was like catching a piece of magic in time. 

By the second and third days, I thought the 5 am wake-ups would be catching up to me; it wasn’t. Schedules changed, the pit rocked between suffocating and empty, and I was going entire days without a single bite of food. Yet I still ran, plotted, and waited. It was half of the entertainment of it, after all. Seeing great performances back to back, trying to get the perfect photos, and joking with old friends and new as the sun set behind the Pavilion; it’s truly an experience that can’t be described unless you’re there. Each day was like a mini universe of dance and music. 

By the end, my feet were so sore I was sure they’d fall off, my voice sounded like I smoked a pack a day, and my phone was missing most of its apps to consolidate space for photos. But my heart was full. I got to see artists for the second and third times, like Lucy Dacus and Noah Kahan, and some for the first, like Doechii, Kesha, and Clairo. And even though Doechii took a selfie on my phone, and I was noticed by Sharon Van Etten, I knew it wasn’t really about me or them. It was about being present and celebrating the artistry of every person who touches the stages. From early morning dashes to the four thousand photos and videos I’ll cherish forever, All Things Go reminded me why live music is and always will be worth the effort.