Discovering the Magic of Treefort Music Fest: A First-Timer’s Guide

From Big Ben to the City of Trees

In the collective imagination, the cultural symbols of the United States are New York and Los Angeles, standing sentinel at the extremities of east and west. You go to these places because you are told that’s where things happen: there, a lineage of era-defining creativity lends this young nation a history beyond its years. Artists set down their anchor in these cities not for their possibility but for the promise of emulating their past. Yet there are entire worlds to be explored in those states we fly over, eruptions of culture for those curious enough to listen for the tremors. I wanted to know what would happen next, so I traveled 5,000 miles from London, UK, to Boise, Idaho.

I discovered Treefort Music Fest because a friend told me about it—a trusted voice who knows the world and has seen much of it; someone who loves discovering new music in unusual places just as much as I do—and this festival in downtown Boise, they told me, had to be seen to be believed. A friend told them about it, who heard from a friend of their own, and so it goes. The effect of that? An extraordinary sense of community bound together by the thrill of a shared secret.

The magic of this place lies not in what you know but in what you’re going to find out. Treefort is a countercultural festival driven by a punk, DIY ethos that puts the artists and the community first. It’s about waking up from the algorithm and putting yourself wholeheartedly in that friend-of-friend chain of trust. Eric Gilbert, a veteran of Boise’s music scene who is not only a DJ at the community station Radio Boise but in a band of his own, has one of the most remarkable ears for booking talent that I’ve ever known. Even the choice of top-billing performers, including Irish country-pop wildcard CMAT and rising London indietronica band Porij, indicates a level of specific taste—of knowing—which defies the obvious. But it was Boise’s own grassroots talent, the kind of small-town creativity stoked by greater ambition after twelve years of Treefort, that fascinated me more.

You can learn a lot about the city from its record shop. After breakfast at Goldy’s Breakfast Bistro (I now see my life in terms of “before” and “after” trying their pancakes), I headed to The Record Exchange. The sunlight sits close in the sky, and everything, from the snow-capped foothills to the spotless streets, feels like a morning dream. Founded in 1977, it feels like the central star around which music lovers orbit; it’s an emporium of sound, sprawling with both an iconic and incredibly niche selection of vinyl, cassettes, CDs, posters, merch and literature. It’s everything you could ever want, and I lost hours so easily in there. In the aisle dedicated to local music, I found one-off curiosities, including a plastic wallet with a hand-printed zine and cassette slotted within, titled Blanket Ghost. “Oh yes, that’s Gus,” the guy behind the counter tells me because there are no strangers in Boise.

Not Your Ordinary App

One of the quiet pleasures of Treefort Music Fest each morning, before the events begin, is poring over the event’s custom app and building a plan of action. As a music journalist, I’ve had my share of glitched-out schedules, idle wandering and frenzied group chats trying to figure out where to find each other with a bad phone signal—but the Treefort app is an act of simple genius, your pocket companion that solves problems before they find you. You can scroll through the schedule each day—or by each “fort” if you’re in the mood for something particular—and each event comes with a short description, often penned by the artists themselves, and a snippet of music you can knock back like a shot before making your mind up.

Once you’ve created your schedule, you can pull it up easily wherever you are and hit the location that opens your map to lead the way. You can share it with your friends, which saves to their app so you always know where to find each other, and it even suggests shows to fill any gaps you might have. Usually, I would advocate for rolling the dice as often as you can, but with a program as sprawling and stacked with wonders as Treefort’s, going in blind would jeopardize too many possible love stories. I would have been lost in every sense of the word without it.

Your New Favorite Hangout

By taking a chance on an artist, author, drag queen or filmmaker, the city opens itself up to you in ways that would be impossible in five days without Treefort. I was drawn back, moth-like, to the flame of the Shrine Social Club—its snaking stairways, the downstairs bar bathed in red light where drag queens gather in booths and the upstairs ballroom, which evokes another era. And, of course, I must mention the award-winning ladies’ powder room. Bedecked with plush carpets, a mirrored vanity table that stretches across the length of a room, floral decorations and an upholstered sofa—an act of transportation in and of itself. No matter how briefly I stopped by, I would always make a point of going there to take in the dream-like surroundings just one more time. It’s a calm refuge from the welcomed chaos of musical talent just beyond its doors. 

Then, of course, there was the hellish charm of The Shredder, which I’m sure would be one of the circles of Dante’s Inferno (fitted out with old-school arcade games and animatronics of your worst nightmares). There, I discovered the artists who defined my Treefort experience, including the incendiary Spokane punk rapper Jang The Goon and Boise’s own noise obliterators John Gorbus, who had left cryptic invitations on street lamps throughout the city. The punk scene here is electric. There is a raw, uncontrived sense of passion—and above all, imagination—which struggles to cultivate itself in cities that are outpricing the artists whose expression their reputation profits from. In Boise, a city that is rapidly expanding with an influx of ambitious thinkers, the artists have the space to thrive and define who they are.

Boise’s hubris is something I started to see everywhere, and it extends far beyond the music. I would ease into the day, defrost a little from the early-hour adventures, and walk to the Idaho State Museum to listen to readings from the university’s undergraduate program. The work of these young writers could humble their published Storyfort counterparts—they certainly humbled me, that’s for sure. There was a vibrancy to their work which proved that they were not in search of a voice because they’d found one already: sharpened, confident and commanding.

It was true of Boise’s filmmakers, too. On Saturday morning, I went to the Local Gems short film showcase, and I was not only transfixed by what I saw but, quite frankly, amazed at the quality these filmmakers achieved on a shoestring budget. There was the hilarious, off-beat Looking Out, which followed two surveillance operatives staked out at The Cabana Inn; the marvelous Appaloosa Legacy, which documents the younger generations of Nez Perce traversing the same route as Chief Joseph during the Flight of 1877, reconnecting with their denied history; and Nice Guy, a confrontational and necessary exploration of consent. The breadth of ideas and approaches, from the true-to-life to the surreal and experimental, was wonderful to see. You couldn’t even find a seat, so popular was the screening, with people standing up or sitting cross-legged on the floor to watch. It achieved for those filmmakers what Treefort does best: uniting talent with its deserved audience.

Dishing Out Delicious

They say the fastest way to the heart is through the stomach, and I would be remiss if I did not praise Boise’s culinary scene. The first half of the festival was rewarded with weather which felt almost Mediterranean, and there was no better place to find yourself at lunchtime than The Basque Market for paella on the patio. The queue would trail down the street as a chef with a giant paellera would serve it directly to your plate, freshly made. Pair that with one of their crushed ice sangrias (in a rightfully enormous glass), and you’ve got yourself the perfect start to your afternoon. 

The curated Foodfort experiences are also well worth buying an extra ticket for, and a great way to explore the work of some of the very best culinary minds Boise has to offer. The five-course communal dinner paired with cocktails, wine and mezcal hosted by the award-winning, James Beard Award finalist Mexican restaurant Amano, was a stand-out experience and a great way to bond with new people over beautifully prepared dishes. Brought to life by a team of volunteers, it tapped into that particular “Treefort magic”—the community itself.

On the other side of my first Treefort experience, I realized it did something that all great festivals will do: change you. The skate culture, the drag scene, the film societies, the writers and the music itself are all bold strokes of color on Boise’s canvas that is fast becoming a masterpiece. There’s an excitement here that cultural powerhouses can’t replicate: not London, not New York, not LA. Every day was an act of adventure in the truest sense of the word; you’re not ringed into a field and spoon-fed a set menu of commercial music as is the way with so many festivals—the city is your playground, and every event felt like stumbling in on a well-kept secret. I only wished there were more hours in a day; some way to see and write about it all. It’s not what you’ve done but the promise of what still awaits you that makes Treefort Music Fest such a remarkable experience.  

Feature image credited to Treefort Music Fest/December Gonzaga.

Sophie Leigh Walker is a writer who endeavours to capture the human experience through the lens of the art we create. Though she is based in London, the stories she tells are borderless—what unites them all is her desire to shed light in unlikely corners. Her writing can be often found in The Line of Best Fit, The Guardian, Apple Music and beyond.