It’s a strange feeling, returning to a festival you’ve already visited in the past. Festivals always feels so transitory, like a traveling circus passing through town. Three days of debauchery and then a swift return to the quiet pastures that lie in that remote Belgian enclave for the other 362 days of the year. But now we find ourselves back in the same place, at the same festival, 3 years later. Once again surrounded by windmills. It’s surreal, like you’re entering an ever-present but hidden dimension that always exists in that specific location and can be accessed from time to time through a tour bus...One of the craziest was Dour Festival, Belgium. In my memory Dour was truly wild. Apocalyptic. It was absolute psychedelic chaos on the site, lightning storms, giant laser-touting spider stages, clotheless people making love freely in the mud, having out of body experiences to their favorite EDM DJ, anarchically but with sweet ceremonious camaraderie. Now, this could all definitely be a distorted memory, warped by the passing of time. It could also be that I was lacking sleep and loosing my mind a little back then. And it should also be mentioned that I only left the backstage for a few brief minutes before becoming overwhelmed and returning to the bus. In any case I’m very much looking forward to playing at Dour festival again. And maybe I’ll intentionally stay sheltered in the backstage, to protect this great apocalyptic memory from the potential of a more mundane reality. 📷@jeanraclet