When Lost Woods Festival announced the festival’s second year was happening on my golden birthday (turning 28 on Sept. 28, two years closer to 30, a.k.a. old age and imminent death), I was delighted. A mysterious secret location? Tick. A stunning line up of Iowa’s best bands? Tick. Delicious local food trucks? Tick. What’s not to love?
With this in mind, I started the 90-minute road trip from Iowa City to Cedar Falls with high expectations. Quick clarification here — my girlfriend did the driving as my International Driving Permit expired years ago and I’m yet to get my shit together and take a test in Iowa. Unlike in England, you guys drive on the wrong side of the road here, which scares me.
But I digress. So — my girlfriend drove to Cedar Falls and I celebrated my birthday by staring out the window and admiring the fields of dried-out corn husks that lined I-380 N.
After dropping our stuff off at the hotel (shout out Country Inn & Suites for a clean and comfortable stay) we headed over to the secret location. This was, as promised, in the woods — just off the aptly named E Lone Tree Rd. Smartly placed signs for the festival helped guide visitors to the correct place, and parking was rendered effortless by the scores of friendly volunteers. One wristband collection and consent form later (which, though I didn’t read it, probably asked guests not to eat mysterious berries or tickle bears), we were in.
Now, this is probably a good time to point out that this festival didn’t require tickets. Donations were encouraged throughout the night, but the music (and, remarkably, it appeared, the bar) was free. Hey, I know we’re accustomed to the wonders of accessible music here in Iowa — Iowa City’s Jazz and Arts festivals, for instance, or 80/35’s many free stages in Des Moines — but I need to underline the fact that this took place in the middle of the woods. And it sounded amazing. That, my friends, is not a cheap endeavor. But I’m getting ahead of myself.
Upon first entering the woods, via a path strewn with gorgeous autumnal leaves, we could hear snippets of the festival’s music drifting through the trees. There was a real magical element to being able to sense the music without any visuals of the stage or the artists — it felt like stepping into a different universe. This feeling was dramatically exaggerated when we stumbled upon interactive 1970s-themed dioramas stuffed with furniture, artwork, outfits and infinite photo opportunities.
Remember your grandma’s ugly patterned couch? Her garish fur coat? That checkered rug you hated? They were all here, looking cool as hell.
A few steps further in lead us to sets of wooden tables, decorated with an inviting assortment of card games, candles and, you guessed it, grandma’s favorite knick-knacks. We stopped for a quick game of Foragers Playing Cards (rosehip is more edible and recognizable than bog rosemary, who knew?) before catching the end of Iowa City’s finest export since Harper Steele: Jim Swim and Alyx Rush, a.k.a. Sun Centauri.
Closing their set with the summer anthem “Two Shots” (“I think I need two vacations every weekend, every weekend,” relatably sings Alyx Rush), Sun Centauri’s pop-laced R&B set the tone for a vibrant evening of music.
Indie-rock icons Halfloves followed to flawlessly strut their stuff. Having seen them multiple times this year, these guys always deliver the goods. Jim Swim returned for an energetic solo set, which thankfully included one of my songs of the year, “Strength?”
Backed by a sublime band, Chicago-based singer-songwriter Elizabeth Moen kept everyone moving by flying through a soulful selection of new material, before Everyday Astronaut (Tim Dodd) awed the growing crowd with his innovative synthesis of rock and rocket science. I mean that literally: his band broadcast and explained a SpaceX rocket launch while delivering a fittingly cosmic soundtrack. I’m pretty sure the guy eight beers in next to me thought he was in space by the end of it. One small sip for a man, one giant hangover for mankind.
Between bands, producer SHIKIMO delivered bursts of chill synthwave from his DJ perch in a tree, like an owl with a great taste in music.
My favorite set, however, was by the festival organizers themselves, Salt Fox.
I first encountered them at the 80/35 IPR stage in 2022 and have been hooked on their infectious synthy indie-pop since. Delivering a headline-worthy show, they played old favorites (two aliens descended from outer space to join them for “Woke Up On The Moon,” perhaps rocket-pooling to the festival with Everyday Astronaut) alongside new material from their upcoming album, MISS YOU, KYLE / LOVE YA, BOYS!
Their closing two songs — an inspired cover of Coldplay’s “Yellow” followed by the outrageously good “Pink Palm Trees” — were accompanied by a surprise firework display, which encapsulated the festival’s spellbinding energy.
Looking ahead to next year, Salt Fox’s manager Neal Price told LV that the Lost Woods Festival team “is currently still in the feedback stage reflecting on this year’s event” and “while it’s too soon to comment on what any future plans are, the enthusiasm we’ve heard from bands, attendees, and partners has been nothing but positive.”
I hope the 2025 edition is confirmed soon: to paraphrase Alyx Rush, I think I need two Lost Woods Festivals, every weekend, every weekend.