High Sierra Music Festival has spent thirty-three summers transforming Quincy’s fairgrounds into a living, breathing playground where sun-splashed bluegrass melts into midnight funk and sunrise yoga greets the echo of cowbells drifting over Spanish Peak. For many of us—and for some Grateful Web’s writers who have wandered those dusty paths for many years—early July in Plumas County is less a weekend getaway and more a family reunion where improvisation is the house language and every parade feels like a secret you’re lucky to overhear. Yet this year that ritual is in jeopardy: founder Dave Margulies has sounded the alarm that ticket sales are running roughly forty percent behind 2024. Without about two thousand additional four-day passes—roughly a three-quarter-million-dollar gap—the gates simply can’t swing open.
The potential loss stings because the 2025 lineup is poised to be one of the most adventurous in recent memory. Molly Tuttle’s fleet-fingered picking, Daniel Donato’s Cosmic Country explorations, and the raucous carnival that is Andy Frasco & The U.N. promise fireworks well beyond the literal Fourth of July. ALO, Dogs in a Pile, Karina Rykman, Ott, and Low Cut Connie bring groove in all its flavors, while The Slip reunites to weave jazz-sculpted rock into the late-night patchwork of jams. Jennifer Hartswick and Lebo will roam as artists-at-large, ready to appear when the jam needs an extra spark, and acts like Rainbow Girls, Reed Mathis, Grace Bowers, and Miko Marks ensure discoveries at every corner of the site. Toss in sunrise yoga, the swimming-pool cool-down, all-ages playshops, and those legendary campsite jams, and the stage is set—if only the audience arrives.
High Sierra has always been more than a roster of bands; it’s a micro-economy that fuels local hotels, cafés, gear shops, food trucks, and stagehands. Canceling now would ripple far beyond the rail line, dulling the spark for families who count on the festival as their annual creative recharge and for kids who learn their first chord at a troubadour workshop. The good news is that saving the gathering remains squarely in our hands. Grabbing a four-day pass today—or leveling up to a FestivALL VIP package—fills the most urgent gap. If travel’s off the table, the nonprofit High Sierra Foundation welcomes tax-deductible donations that help power the lights and pay the crew. Artists are circulating discount codes, payment plans break the bite into manageable pieces, and Plumas County residents can snag discounted day passes or step into work-trade shifts that earn a spot while keeping the vibe alive.
We’ve watched this community rally before—and we believe it can again. Text your festival-curious friend, post the lineup in your group chat, and remind every hesitant head that “next year” officially became “right now.” High Sierra has given us three decades of sunrise epiphanies, surprise sit-ins, and lifelong friendships stitched together by shared song. Let’s answer that gift with action, flood the ticket portal, and meet beneath the Sierra stars—lanterns blazing, cowbells polished, hearts tuned to the key of possible. See you on the hill.
