Ahead of another edition of WAS. x Le Guess Who?, we caught up with the festival’s co-founder and artistic director to talk about the curiosity that drives the festival, memorable moments from past editions and the role WAS. plays in it all. From last-minute booking challenges to unexpected nights on the dance floor, a look behind the scenes of one of Utrecht’s most adventurous music festivals.
When you buy a ticket to see a DJ, are you paying to hear the tracks you already know, or to discover something new? As big-name DJs increasingly become the main attraction, expectations around what they should play are shifting. But when a set becomes a checklist of familiar tracks, how much room is left for the unexpected? The tension between audience expectations and artistic freedom raises an interesting question about club culture, and why the tracks you didn't expect to hear might be the ones that stay with you the longest.
Recently, Awakenings became the only multi-day festival in the Netherlands to sell out completely well before its kick-off. Elsewhere, ticket sales have been a little less effortless: Lowlands most recently didn’t sell out, while Wildeburg only got there 2 months in advance. Does that fact say something about the state of the festival landscape? Following years of near-guaranteed sell-outs after the pandemic, Dutch audiences seem to be choosing more carefully where their money goes to.
“Clubbing is becoming a luxury,” stated DJ Sherelle in a BBC interview, capturing a growing tension within nightlife culture. While electronic music remains hugely popular, clubs across the Netherlands and the UK are struggling with rising costs, changing cultural habits, and shrinking support systems. More people are turning to house parties and DIY spaces that feel more accessible, intimate, and community-driven than traditional clubs. Beyond economics, the discussion around nightlife also reflects deeper cultural shifts. Many clubbers still see nightlife as a vital source of connection, freedom, and inclusivity, raising the question of how we can protect club culture before it becomes inaccessible to the very communities that built it.
Every festival preview mentions at least three, or sometimes more than artists playing solo. ‘Tjarkey’ (Tjade b2b Kyle Starkey) just touched down on Soenda last weekend; Lente Kabinet just put Shanti Celeste b2b Chris Stussy on the bill for next spring, which, depending on who you ask, is either a fever dream or a cosmic accident. In any case, the format has cemented itself into Dutch festival DNA, whether the pairings make sense or not. But is that actually adding something to the music or experience, or just marketing (a dirty word for clubs)?
Over the past week, newspapers were filled with headlines about sexual harassment, rape, femicide, and maybe the most tragic: the murder of 17-year-old Lisa, who was on her way home after a night out in Amsterdam. These are headlines we see all too often, but this week everything seemed to collide and reach a boiling point. I saw a striking quote on Instagram that said: “Not all men, but always a man.” Although it’s very true that this is a men’s problem, of which women are the victims, I also saw the risk that men could distance themselves from this comment. Because yes, murdering and raping women is probably not part of your daily routine, and everyone knows that this is an absolute no-go. But that does not mean this issue does not concern you as an "ordinary" man. Men’s behavior that negatively affects women and how they move through society is much broader than rape, harassment, or murder. This behavior is more subtle, but still very harmful. As men, we often have a blind spot for our behavior that ‘maintains’ the oppression of women, and we are complicit to this matter far more often than we like to admit.
Last week, Amsterdam’s Paradiso made headlines not for a sold-out show or a breakout act, but because of threats. The reason is a scheduled performance by Bob Vylan, the British punk-rap duo known for their outspoken political lyrics on racism, class, police violence, and of course Gaza. After anonymous threats were made in response to the concert, the Amsterdam venue has now pressed charges. The show goes on. But the situation underscores a growing tension: what happens when political expression through music becomes a matter of public safety?
Electronic music is bigger than ever. From festival main stages to TikTok feeds and Spotify playlists, the genre dominates popular culture. Yet while electronic music thrives, the clubs that built the scene are increasingly under pressure. In cities like Amsterdam, Utrecht, and Berlin, rising costs, stricter regulations, changing nightlife habits, and economic uncertainty are making it harder than ever to keep club culture alive. As venues close and promoters scale down, governments and clubs are searching for new ways to protect nightlife, not just as entertainment, but as an essential cultural and social space.
The 24-hour TikTok ban in the United States sparked panic, memes, and most of all, questions. What happens if the app actually does get banned? How does that affect electronic music and emerging DJs? While this temporary restriction happened on the other side of the Atlantic, it made promoters, agents, and artist managers elsewhere wonder: are we all a bit too dependent on content apps for discovering new music?
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