Dwindling ticket sales and cancellations: What’s behind the decline of music festivals

Music festivals are facing a crisis. On the brink of what should be another exciting summer festival season, dozens of music festivals are shutting down. The trend has been simmering for years — the longstanding Pitchfork Music Festival in Chicago isn’t returning this summer, following similar announcements last year from Atlanta’s Music Midtown and Kickoff Jam in Florida. Meanwhile, festivals like Jay-Z’s Made in America festival and Delaware’s Firefly Music Festival haven’t returned since 2022. This year, more than 40 festivals have already been canceled, according to one count. These cancellations aren’t the only signs that something is awry in the festival scene. For the second year in a row, tickets to Coachella — the preeminent festival in the California desert that once sold out within hours — remained available for months. Electric Forest, Michigan’s notable electronic and jam band festival, has also seen a slowdown in sales, igniting more concern over the landscape overall. Some blame the spate of cancellations on changing tastes; others point to the lack of curiosity from younger generations (why pay to see a bunch of acts you haven’t heard of?). And, of course, there’s a general belt tightening overall. Either way, the result is the same. Music festivals were once on the cutting edge, events where the music and vibe felt fresh and unique. But taken together, the declining ticket sales and cancellations paint a struggling picture of the festival industry, even as other areas of live music thrive. Festivals can be unique, ‘magical’ experiences These days, music festivals have become synonymous with summer, with almost every major city boasting their own sweaty sonic assembly. That wasn’t always the case. In 1969, when Woodstock brought almost half a million people to see live music at a dairy farm in upstate New York, the event continued to resonate even years afterward, said Tiffany Naiman, director of Music Industry Programs at University of California, Los Angeles. “It lived in the cultural memory of America,” she said, “in this idea of a wonderful musical experience that changed people’s lives.” Afterward, the desire for similar experiences lingered. Most of the festivals people might be familiar with now — Coachella, Lollapalooza, even Warped Tour — began in the 1990s. Lollapalooza, which began in 1991, notably became the Woodstock for Gen X-ers, Naiman said, a place for community and a diverse set of music. “It was a great experience for people, because you got to see so many acts and things like that, for so little money,” Naiman said. “Right now, that has obviously changed.” Blake Atchison, who lives in Nashville, still remembers sneaking into the Bonnaroo Music and Arts Festival back in 2002, the very first year it was held. Now, he takes his son with him every summer. The whole festival experience, said Atchison — who co-founded Nashville’s Deep Tropics festival in 2017 — is magical. There’s a sense of discovery in festivals, he said, with all the different stages with different types of music. You can stumble upon an amazing band or DJ that you end up loving, absent of a streaming algorithm feeding you similar sounds over and over again. At a festival, if you’re open, Atchison said, you could discover something totally new. “There’s just nothing like it,” he said. “I love music, I love experiencing music with people, and I don’t think there’s any purer form to do that than a well put together festival.” But over the years, that festival experience has changed. At Bonnaroo, for example, some longtime attendees have complained that the event has become swarmed with big, corporate sponsors. There’s a tension between the two camps: Some mourn the days when the festival felt more bohemian, while others appreciate the increased investment, reflected in better toilets and more popular acts. That divide illustrates just how far festivals have come, but also underlines a challenge: Once integrated into the mainstream, how do these festivals stay distinct? Both festival organizers and attendees face economic challenges While music festivals have long retained a grip on American identity, their hold might be slipping. Though the number of festivals has ballooned since the late ‘90s and early aughts, it’s not clear that the demand has kept up, said Will Page, former chief economist of Spotify. Inflation and tightening budgets have people spending less in nearly every part of American life, including nightlife, fashion and dining out. While you could once see your favorite act play a major stadium and still attend a festival that same summer, music enthusiasts today are having to choose between the two. “Roll forward to 2024, you go all in to see Taylor Swift, and you don’t bother with the festival,” Page said. “We’re seeing an element of displacement, of cannibalization, of the stadium acts eating the festivals’ lunch.” In other words, we’ve become more risk-averse. Why would you want to travel and pay hundreds of dollars for a weekend pass (not including costs for camping, drinks, food, etc.) to see artists you’re not sure you’ll enjoy? Especially when you could spend it on Beyoncé’s Cowboy Carter tour instead? People want their echo chambers, Page said, and gambling on a festival might not seem worth it. Running a festival has become more challenging for organizers, too. As ticket pricing structures have changed, more artists are foregoing festivals for their own worldwide arena tours, where they can make more money, Page said. That’s made it harder for festivals to attract top talent. Operation costs are also rising, Page said, but there’s a limit to how much festivals can charge for tickets. “You have a credit crunch facing festivals across the board,” he said. “But particularly the smaller festivals are less able to hedge, less able to negotiate those terms, to manage that cost inflation.” The vulnerability of these smaller events can cause issues for prospective buyers. Midwest Dreams, a new EDM festival in St. Louis, was meant to kick off at the end of May, but organizers postponed the event to November about a week before the scheduled start. While a press release points to the damage caused by a recent tornado, onlookers noted that other events at the venue are still proceeding as scheduled. Refunds for the event were also reportedly only offered for 24 hours, after which tickets would roll over to the new date — although in an email to CNN, festival organizers noted the time limit was a ticket vendor policy and anyone who wants a refund will get it. Some fans understood the move; others claimed the festival was covering for low ticket sales. Midwest Dreams denied those claims. Then there’s the increasing frequency of severe weather events. Acts can’t perform if there’s lightning, Naiman said, and insurance can also be a headache. Temperatures are also getting much hotter. The unpredictability of a music festival is part of the experience — but it can also make potential festival-goers wary. Last year, Electric Forest — where single-day passes are going for $175 in 2025 — was plagued with so much rain and severe thunderstorms that the festival was forced to end early and nix performances from headliners. A year later, some fans are still irate over not receiving a refund or voucher. (Electric Forest did not respond to CNN’s request for comment.) Either way, for both organizers and attendees, festivals are simply becoming harder bets. And it’s not just in the US. Festivals in Canada, in the United Kingdom, and across Europe have seen similar struggles, creating a picture of a worldwide music festival slump. As festivals struggle, a search for a path forward The problems facing music festivals are the same problems facing almost every aspect of society. Money’s tight, and the way people discover and experience music today is changing. But people still want to see live music, Naiman said. Indeed, even as the cost of concert tickets has soared, consumers have kept splurging. But among larger festivals, there’s been little change or growth over the years, Naiman said. Instead, there’s been a flattening, with the same artists playing and the same styles of music. (Case in point: Luke Combs, Tyler, the Creator, and Olivia Rodrigo are all headlining both Bonnaroo and Lollapalooza this year.) “The larger ones are plateauing because they haven’t changed for the better,” Naiman said. “I don’t think that Coachella is doing anything unique or radical anymore.” That unique, grassroots vibe for which many longstanding music festivals became popular has somewhat faded in recent years, particularly as behemoths Live Nation and AEG have gathered ownership over major music festivals, leaning toward a more mainstream EDM and pop-centric lineup. For some longtime fans, that change is hard to swallow. Lollapalooza, for example, which began as a farewell tour before evolving into an underground alternative rock festival, was acquired by Live Nation in 2014. In 2016, bemoaning the influx of EDM into the lineup, Lollapalooza founder and Jane’s Addiction frontman Perry Farrell told the Chicago Tribune: “I sometimes cringe at my own festival.” And music fans seem to be gravitating toward other spaces to experience something new. Currently, The All-American Rejects are embarking on a nationwide house party tour, eschewing traditional venues for backyards, college campuses and, in one instance, a bowling alley. Though the pop-rock band is still playing some summer festivals (Warped Tour, Shaky Knees and Aftershock), while opening for the Jonas Brothers in stadiums, these unconventional shows and the ensuing social media hype have revived the band’s early aughts buzz. To set themselves apart, smaller festivals have had to move beyond music as a way to entice audiences, Atchison said. Deep Tropics, which he said has seen an average of 43% growth year over year since its founding in 2017, has focused on sustainability, and integrated more speakers, workshops, and even yoga and breathwork into the festival. “There’s other elements that fans are searching for,” Atchison said. Part of the solution may also lie in reframing what a music festival actually means. Naiman used the Sundance Film Festival as an example, where film buffs gather not to see their favorite movies, but to be the first to uncover the coolest up-and-coming directors and actors. “Though we like being in our echo chamber, I think there’s a hunger for new things,” Naiman said. “I think it’s really about framing it, and how festivals frame this idea of discovery and experience versus seeing whoever again.” That hunger for new things is vital. For music festivals, their survival may very well depend on it.