Not going to lie, I was expecting IDENTITY FESTIVAL to be a wankfest of the utmost proportion. And for all intents and purposes, it was, with neon and brostep ruing the day. But considering the worst that could've happened when you unleash a cavalcade of geeked-up 20-somethings onto an amphitheater housing three stages of aggressive electronic music and a clearly overwhelmed security staff? At least my mother wasn't calling me on Sunday to ask if the festival I spent my Saturday at was the one on the news at Great Woods where all the kids overdosed on Twisted Teas and rave pills.