Roskilde as a Battleground of Sound

Andreo:
Hello, is it still buzzing? What was the very last sound you heard at the festival?

Rasmus:
Yes, my ears are definitely still buzzing, though they had a tough job – especially on the final day, with volume cranked up for the special collaboration between Danish metal bands Kollapse and Grava (who were unexpectedly joined by Henriette Sennenvaldt for a rendition of Anne Linnet’s »Forårsdag« – I didn’t see that coming!), followed by Nine Inch Nails, and then surprisingly a really strong show by The Raveonettes. They proved that rock isn’t dead at Roskilde (despite rumors to the contrary), and that you don’t have to become boring with age. It was a concert with the noise pedal fully floored.

Sune Wagner was clapping like a disco dancer in his own personal shoegaze darkness

Andreo:

Yes, »Aly, Walk With Me« felt completely reborn. At one point, Sune Wagner was clapping like a disco dancer in his own personal shoegaze darkness. And it was beautiful how The Raveonettes paid tribute »to all the bands that came before us, and all those that will come after us.«

Experimentation thrives best in the dark. Two places offered safe refuge if you wanted to escape sun, rain, confetti cannons, and TikTok-friendly hooks: Gloria and Platform. The versatile percussionist Valentina Magaletti, a past Roskilde guest, played »cut-up rock« with the trio Moin: metallic riffs, post-punk fragility, and complex, almost tribal rhythms woven into a shimmering, unpredictable sonic fabric.

With its many trees, Gloria resembled a lush, almost dreamlike plant nursery. Here, Stundom transformed Nordic folk melodies into enchanting, almost chamber music-like sonic landscapes through poetic sensitivity and tight interplay. Both melancholy and hope took root. With violin, cittern, and piano – and later a guest appearance by the choir ÆTLA – it felt like stepping into a Nordic forest where old legends and hidden dreams whispered among the trees.

I had my doubts about that show, because 10 minutes before it started, there was almost no one at Gloria

Rasmus:

Yes, Gloria was truly beautiful this year with all the plants, and Stundom was an early festival highlight for me. They really delivered a cohesive concert experience and were clearly moved by the massive communal singing on »Hvalens sidste dyk« (The Whale's Last Dive).

Andreo:

It was a shame that Astrid Sonne played her off-kilter indie songs with strings and spiced MIDI experiments under the open sky at Eos. Her introspective, sensitive universe was swallowed by the wind. It’s hard to move conservatory concerts out into nature – especially when the neighboring stage is blasting jungle music.

Rasmus:

Funny you mention Gloria and Platform, because my festival started on Platform and ended at Gloria. It began with a belly flop, though, when Estonian Duo Ruut, whom I was waiting for on Platform, suddenly disappeared from the program (something about their instruments getting lost at the airport – rough luck). In contrast, the festival ended on a high with Lyra Pramuk at Gloria.

Andreo:

Ah, I missed that one.

Rasmus:

I had my doubts about that show, because 10 minutes before it started, there was almost no one at Gloria, and the few who were there seemed quite drunk and had no idea what was coming. Pramuk, who just released a masterful but demanding album, Hymnal, could easily have fallen flat, I thought. But then she took the stage with supreme authority, accompanied by two violinists and a dancer, and delivered a nocturnal séance that was not only the perfect finale for my festival but also one of the year’s absolute highlights.

It felt like a triumph that this is still possible at Roskilde

I felt it embodied everything beautiful about the festival – or at least what one hopes the festival can be. A union of party and activism, contemplation and exuberance, vulnerability and swagger, artistic courage and love. She touched on many of the themes present in the program – trans rights, confronting humanity’s destructive abuse of nature – but in a »show it, don’t tell it« way. No moral sermons, just letting the art speak for itself. And she even managed to get a tipsy festival crowd to chant in support of »experimental art« by the end. It felt like a triumph that this is still possible at Roskilde.

Andreo:

I hear you.

Rasmus:

But I’ll admit, such experiences are few and far between. Like you, I had many good moments at Gloria, which is a great stage for both fragile and noisy acts. But it also seems strange that at Roskilde, you often have to seek out the venue most resembling a traditional concert hall to feel that spark. Platform, in turn, tries to open up experimentation by offering a place where people can just stumble upon surprises – but that’s riskier because challenging acts can easily fall apart in what feels like a noisy town square. But when it works, it can be fantastic, like catching Irish vocal group Landless and their renditions of old folk songs early on Saturday and feeling the audience’s devotion to something so archaic yet so deeply relevant.

It’s hard to move conservatory concerts out into nature – especially when the neighboring stage is blasting jungle music

Andreo:

This year there was a lot of talk about concerts being interrupted. In reality, only one concert was truly stopped: Anohni paused a song to make sure an audience member was okay. Anohni stood in front of Roskilde’s most beautiful backdrop: slow, dreamlike video images of coral reefs, fish, and floating creatures dancing in blue-green draperies of light. Occasionally, there were clips of scientists talking about the planet’s changes and the ocean’s fragile pulse. The song »Motherless Child«, with the line »We are a long way from home«, throbbed for over a minute with noise – like a lament for a world out of balance. With a voice that was both monumental and fragile, she pointed at a world that screams for war but forgets to listen to nature’s quiet cries.

In reality, only one concert was truly stopped: Anohni paused a song to make sure an audience member was okay

Different, but related sonic laments were heard with Beth Gibbons. Percussionist Howard Jacobs turned drums, gongs, xylophone, and marimba into pure percussion art, each sound trembling like a breath in the dark. The rhythmic dissonances created an almost physical presence, emphasizing Gibbons’ fascinating balance between fragility and brutality – like a voice that both whispers and screams in the same motion.

Rasmus:

Yes, I also noticed that rhetorical twist in some journalists’ coverage, saying concerts were »interrupted by activists«, when it was obviously people the artists had invited. But if anything really interrupted the connection to the music, it was the sheer amount of unsolicited chatter from the audience – and yes, both young and old were talking away (not exactly the kind of intergenerational community the festival should cultivate).

Andreo:

American Kassi Valazza was SO annoyed that she just seemed to wait to get off stage

It gives the impression that the festival is trying to do too much at once

Rasmus:

Beth Gibbons and her band gave a beautiful concert, but where I stood, it was almost drowned out by chatter, also because the sound was so low. Quiet music often struggles at festivals. You could sense it too during Merope’s concert on Friday evening. They play a fragile blend of Baltic folk music and ambient soundscapes that could have been a beautiful meditation in the morning at Gloria. Instead, they were placed on the Gaia stage while The Hu’s mix of throat singing and »moped rock« rumbled away at Eos. That kind of clash should have been obvious to an experienced festival like Roskilde, and it gives the impression that the festival is trying to do too much at once, as you also noted about Astrid Sonne.

On the other hand, it’s also these wild clashes that, when they work, still justify the festival’s existence for me. Where else can you go directly from Olivia Rodrigo’s stadium rock, pop bangers, and teenage yearning to Jako Maron’s trance-inducing techno versions of traditional maloya music from Réunion? Those wild contrasts are what I still love about the festival. Where did you find this year’s most glorious clash?

Geordie Greep felt like rewinding 54 years back to early Mahavishnu Orchestra

Andreo:

I was also in the dark for Jako Maron. Just as thrilling was Ami Komai, fronting American Kumo 99, tearing jungle music apart from within. And it was beautifully chaotic when Bisse and SVIN summoned a sonic apocalypse at Roskilde with screams, whispers, theatrical energy, and thundering sound storms, elevated into an existential ritual celebration. Songs about the Old Testament can do something special.

It was beautifully chaotic when Bisse and SVIN summoned a sonic apocalypse at Roskilde

Rasmus:

I missed Bisse & SVIN, but yes, Kumo 99 definitely delivered one of the festival’s best dance parties – one of those shows where ecstatic partying and musical curiosity merge perfectly. I felt the same at a wildly trippy concert with Ale Hop & Titi Bakorta – raw, coked-up guitar rave rooted in both Congo and Peru, igniting dancing feet in a delightfully staggering way.

And then Indian artist Arushi Jain took me by surprise when she opened Gloria at noon on Thursday. I expected a meditative blend of ambient and Indian traditions, but instead, she kicked off a pounding Indian rave. Something totally different from what I was prepared for, but incredibly cool and physically trance-inducing. It’s wonderful to still be surprised, which is harder these days – partly because we’ve heard so much, and partly because it’s so easy to find other shows and setlists with just a few clicks.

I expected a meditative blend of ambient and Indian traditions, but instead, she kicked off a pounding Indian rave

The most ritualistic moment for me came with South Korean bela, one of the acts I’d really been looking forward to, though she was a tough proposition on stage with her introverted mix of dark witch mass, guttural growls, electronic soundscapes, and a kind of poetic recitation.

Andreo:

At Roskilde, you could travel in time and geography. Geordie Greep felt like rewinding 54 years back to early Mahavishnu Orchestra – it’s hard to believe that still exists. Meanwhile, the Balinese trio Tridatu played a somewhat »westernized« version of traditional gamelan. Anoushka Shankar’s concert also lacked the deep spiritual grounding usually characteristic of her ragas. Bedouin Burger, however, had it all: with hand drums and electronics, they updated Middle Eastern traditions into a dancing, vibrating celebration where roots and present melted together.

They were talking about a really weird concert they had just seen. I dared to guess it was bela

Roskilde Festival is »filled with freedom«, a Swedish journalist explained to a couple of Japanese journalists in the press tent. Well. There’s certainly room for freedom and play at Roskilde. But Roskilde Festival must not become a kind of Legoland. It has to seriously help us dream in ways we didn’t even know were possible – and ideally, help us do it collectively… That was the conclusion a few years ago when the festival was put on the couch for a bit of dream analysis.

Rasmus, RM25 in one sentence?

I don’t think I’ll ever forget all the times I got lost – in noise, in beauty, in moments of trance and raw ecstasy

Rasmus:

Hmm… it’s really hard to capture in a single sentence. But I’ll let the audience speak. I actually overheard a conversation on the train home early Friday morning, where a couple of pretty drunk guys – right after a long discussion about who came first in Danish hip hop, Rockers By Choice or MC Einar – were talking about a really weird concert they had just seen. I dared to guess it was bela. That was confirmed during their conversation, and it was clear they were both quite stunned by what they had witnessed. But I felt genuinely happy when one of them said: »I don’t think I’ll ever forget that concert«. It’s so great that you can bring something like that home – and also appreciate the things that don’t just please you in an easy way.

Is there something from this year you’ll never forget, Andreo?

Andreo:

I don’t think I’ll ever forget all the times I got lost – in noise, in beauty, in moments of trance and raw ecstasy. I lost myself in the sounds and in all the other people surrounding me. And suddenly I felt that the dreams still exist, right there in the noise.

Roskilde Festival, June 27 – July 4, 2025

English translation: Andreo Michaelo Mielczarek