A kind of magic happened there. In the sun, amidst the constant shuffling half-run between venues. Anticipation intermingled with nervous excitement and fear of missing out. Rewire is a festival I’ve never been to before, but yet counts as one of the most profound experiences I’ve had with music. What unfolded over the course of three days (for me) in Den Haag was impressive to say the least, but also very beautiful on a small and human scale.
For an event that is spread out over so many locations and spaces of differing moods, it all came together through the network of people moving between these places. On the first day I sat down at a cafe in the middle of the city, waiting to meet an old friend from a different continent. And my neighbours at the next table quite naturally were here for the festival too.
I started out by going to a talk or panel discussion with my local Copenhagen favourite Clarissa Connelly whom I’ve seen perform before. In this familiar setting, my festival experience began on safe ground and also opened my eyes to all the other things going on at festival aside from music. The ’context program’ of talks was so rewarding and I daresay the Q&A with aya was perhaps more entertaining than the live show. (Once it’s shared you really need to check it out).
On a fun meta level, there was also a discussion about the role of music journalism. This one featured a bunch of male writers personally don’t sympathise with, but it was fascinating hearing the comments and observations from the attendees – some of whom had been working for years doing exactly what I’ve always dreamt about. The fact that there was a zine workshop and that that results of it (which was launched during the festival) were so awe-inspiring broke my heart a bit. As someone who grew up reading the language of zines through online forums, it just solidified my views on music journalism being dead and that activism is what is needed.
You couldn’t care less about what my opinions are about a token artist that you’ve never heard about. Today anything is instantly findable, consumable and just as instantly forgotten. I see the role of the writer more as an archivist, documenting what is already being forgotten – so that one day when we look back at this confusing time, we can recall that, yes, there were actually amazing things being created – things that deserved being listened to more than in snippets over a bluetooth connection while shuffling between voice messages and your attention being called on by circumstances of traffic or what we call the IRL.
Similarly, the reason for writing about Rewire, or reading about it for that matter, can never surpass watching the incredible footage created by talented professionals. This text is purely a way to digest what happened in this microcosmos of simultaneous events, actions and raptures – and perhaps to exit on the other side with a better understanding of what the hell actually happened.
There was also an exhibition programme (Proximity Music: Echoes of Entropy) that was free for each and all, regardless of whether you were attending the festival. In one gallery there was a parallel art opening going on at the time I was visiting it – with a room full of elderly art fans listening attentively to a man talking about weaving in Dutch, their wine glasses filled much more generously than etiquette demands. To think (and hope) that some of these people also got their share of the Rewire feeling is invigorating, and if nothing else proves that divides can be overcome.
As a festival catering largely to a privileged group of white middleclass ’connoisseurs’ of music (music meaning Autechre, or other sounds that are reminiscent of insects milling over each other amplified to a deafening volume), it’s important to note that the curators have worked hard to integrate perspectives other that their own, and to initiate a dialogue with the city and its inhabitants. Because, of course, it’s not everyone who can afford to buy a ticket for a big festival and much less travel to another country just to listen to music.
What an insane privilege that is. But we’re also giving back – to the artists and to each other – to show how valuable music as a medium can be, in shaping us as people along with the worldviews that we hold. I wouldn’t exaggerate if I said I thought every single person who came to Rewire in 2025 probably had their hearts and minds opened to something they’ve never come across before. Be that the Arab-influenced music of Useknife (which was one thing that positively caught me unawares) or a whole new generation bearing witness to Laurie Anderson’s peculiar political rants.
That generation might have come just to mosh to Bassvictim (which I happily did as well after queueing for 30 minutes) but could just as easily have been swaying gently to Oklou’s retrograde into a submerged 90s club in Shibuya. Because the juxtapositions couldn’t have been more stark. For me, going from the whisper and wheeze of Maria Somerville’s dreampop to the all-out sonic onslaught of AKA HEX (aka Aïsha Devi and Slickback) as they were visited/haunted by Lord Spikeheart’s growl. I really hope people experienced and cherished these contrasts (as I did), while you could of course simply have stayed in one venue and gone from Colin Stetson’s blockbuster saxophone performance to music critic darling Nala Sinephro’s jazzy perfection.
I opted out of many of those program highlights to see other artists. True, I did catch a part of Stetson’s show, seeing as he’s one of the trinity of sax players that all lovers of electronic music can’t get enough of (I’m referring to him, Bendik Giske and Ben Vince). But Sinephro was given a miss as well as artists I’d seen in recent years like Anna Von Hausswolff, Kali Malone, De Schuurman, Lyra Pramuk, MC Yallah, and even Fennesz (although I confess that was cause the line was too long).
It really had to have been a nightmare to schedule all these shows, knowing full well that the crowds would need to be divided at all times so that individual venues didn’t overflow. Of course there were misses: I was saddened that I botched my chance to see Milan W. because there wasn’t much else going on that early on the Sunday and hundreds of people tuned up to a very tiny venue. On the other hand these unexpected breaks also meant that I was open to be pleasantly surprised by other things.
I’m so glad I walked the 20 minutes back and forth up to the National Theatre to see Belgian composer Billy Bultheel’s new show A Short History of Decay, only to discover Chloe Lula in charge of the cello for this small ensemble. In the middle of the floor stood a huge resonating sculpture and some of the audience were invited to sit on the stage. I’m also thankful for the 15 minutes of Bassvictim I witnessed, as they stage-dove over a sweating audience with smuggled flasks of vodka shattering on the floor beneath us. They refused to go off stage and I refused to stop dancing.
I’m also incredibly grateful to finally have seen Oklou after missing her at Dekmantel last year and then the sold out Copenhagen show earlier this year. Especially since she seemed to be on the verge of giving birth, and explained how they had talked about perhaps not being able to do this show. But she said they really wanted to do it. And it made me think about how close I had been to actually not coming to Rewire at all myself. Something which in hindsight feels an incredibly silly idea. So I’m thanking myself now, all the while still shedding wayward tears here and there over it being… over.
I’m going to go out on a limb and say that festivals like Rewire bring back a small – if not substantial – amount of positivity to this world. A world that is probably not anymore chaotic than it was during our parents’ time, but a world in which everything is felt instantly across borders and cultures. We feel so much more connected to people struggling under oppression, war and corruption. I don’t think my parents ever met anyone who’ve come from a war-torn country, but on my brief time on this planet I’ve met people from Syria, Ukraine and other places that have really made me feel that I am no different than they are.
Do we deserve to have these beautiful moments of peace, culture and revelling in dance and joy? Or to put it another way, what have we done to deserve it? Because it is a privilege, and as such we must put it to good use. One, perhaps obvious, way is to let these experiences from the weekend fuel us in the coming hard times. Just to know that there are these wondrous things to fight for – for their very existence – and for other people’s right to experience that as well. Rewire just proves that they’re worth fighting for, and if we sit back and expect things to just come to us, served on a silver platter, then we’re mistaken.
We must use the connections we build and the experiences of joy or catharsis to inspire more cultural expressions. Whenever I feel doubt or the crushing weight of people’s suffering in the next few weeks I know that I can just think back to that moment of claire rousay and More eaze playing in Lutherse Kerk and it will sustain me. The exact moment where their rather abstract art suddenly bursts into the most incredulous pop song, moving some of us in the audience to tears.
I kind of wish everyone I know could have experienced that. And if they had their world might look a tiny little bit better to them today. Sure, many may not understand it, or even be able to be moved by music in that way. But I still wish for it. Because the truth is that everyone deserves it. We haven’t done anything to do so. It’s just a natural part of being human, since singing together first began. Which reminds me of the fact that I even got to hear a talk about communal singing. The, in contemporary art music (maybe even also in pop music), very much frowned-upon practice of choral singing.
It’s a question of access of course. In my little contribution I hope that I have helped some of these experiences become a little more accessible. And if I have convinced someone to try out Rewire or another similar event in the near future then I believe I have done enough. Because society needs a critical mass of people to influence policymaking. And stopping short of a revolution, it is only through policy and protest that we can change the structures and politics of access. And the human right to music and cultural expression.
So of course, not everyone can afford to attend. You might be living under severe constraints of mental health issues, emotional distress, climate anxiety, even active violence. I can only tell the world that an alternative exists. Not an alternative that is perfect, profoundly spiritual or with its back turned to the evil that is being done to the world. But an alternative practice and communion in which we can see the horrors of the world refracted through notes and rhythms, vibrations pulsing through our bodies. These feelings can move us, force our bodies to move in time, our heart rates to synchronise if only for a moment.
I think it is perhaps enough just to know. Not even to experience it. I feel very lucky that I have experienced those sensations even once – in fact hundreds of times – and will most likely continue to have the same luck. But even if I should not, memories can go a long way too. And at Rewire I made a lot of memories that I will keep with me. We don’t know how memory works. In a sense it is a type of magic. The making of memories is the genesis of magic, one could say.
Top photo of claire rousay + more eaze by Joris van den Einden.
