The Spirit of Rewire 2025
They call us lonely when we're really just alone
I begin writing this as I have spent the past four days: alone in Den Haag, stealing WiFi here and there as my phone refuses to connect to the local mobile services. Attending Rewire Festival, now in its fourteenth year, with its venues dotted across the busy city, this was by no means a disaster but it was also, so it seemed, not ideal.
Without a friend, not only did I have nobody to have a laugh with, hold my drink as I went to the loo, save my space at a venue or talk to about the performance we’d just seen, I also had nobody to get lost with. In spite of visiting last year, get lost, at first, I did.
No stranger to roaming, I make a habit of going mapless on long distance runs (“trespassing” in local countryside back home) and in London where I’m from - it livens my senses to be out of my comfort zone in unfamiliar areas - but, with its tightly packed itinerary, Rewire doesn’t suffer slouches nor latecomers. Here, it’s a first-come-first-served policy at all sets and missing out on acts is a very real and disappointing prospect.
Of course, this is no great drama nor intrepid far flung adventure - I’ve been lucky enough to have a handful of those and hope there are more to come. The Hague is much like any other modern European city, and one I chose to come to alone to witness what surely must be one of the best experimental music festivals going (more about why shortly). But reality rarely conforms to ideals. Solitude is an impermanent sanctuary from the community that helps us breathe. Could this act of being a ghost end up haunting me, as long periods in my own head have done before?
It's an often stated woeful fact that modern humans have fused with devices (a smartphone is central to the music I make - it’s very best use), our minds and bodies permanently altered by machines that give as much as they take away. Abusive, controlling partners promising us the world while ensuring we only have eyes for them. Maybe I’m being melodramatic or overstating the point but you get the point.
Anyway, gathering myself, I take stock:
Limited internet access.
No Google maps.
Intermittent contact with those back home and around me.
Left to my own devices – and not including the one in my pocket.
This was a rare opportunity to switch off. More importantly, it was an opportunity to properly tune into what I came for: music. But, I reckoned, I would surely mourn the loss of the post-gig discussions too greatly.
As an artist, I work completely alone - from concept to performance and mastering. When it comes to other artists’ music, while the really good stuff provides an intensely personal experience, sharing it with others offers fresh meaning and can make the experience somehow more complete. It’s our way - listeners and/or artists - of sharing stories old and new, as humans have done forever. What priceless joy can be given and received in a moment where sounds are shared - like passing on a great book, a special recipe or the whereabouts of a secret place off the beaten track.
However, this particular weekend, it gradually dawns on me, will be solely about listening and allowing time, space and imagination to do whatever they will to memories and meaning of what is witnessed. I did allow myself some photo opportunities to assist the memory and, here and there, I was able to message a couple of mates who couldn’t attend but, other than that, these would be moments I could only cherish and recall internally. I am reminded of the film Stand By Me (1986) when main character Gordie has a close encounter with a deer while on early morning watch duty in the woods. Both deer and boy mind their own business. Gordie’s friends are all sleeping at the time and so he decides to keep that little moment to himself. Yes, I’m a sentimental bore.
I decide that by allowing myself to engage fully without distraction I might learn something about myself as well as the performing artists on the bill.
Actually listening for extended periods of time in and out of gigs is easier in theory than in practice. Being forced into a state of near invisibility at over populated events crash tests the theory and the practice. Having now returned home to the U.K., I can say with authority that the longest two conversations I had across the four days were with the one same homeless man I met two nights running. He looked a bit like Iggy Pop and just wanted some change and cigs. Our exchanges stretched to a couple of minutes each max - I was grateful to him for them, their currency more valuable to me than what I was able to give in return. I’m not anti-social and will happily chat with strangers if a natural opportunity presents itself but, even among thousands of similarly-minded people, it simply didn’t.
Not that I didn’t hear a thousand conversations bookending performances and, inevitably, slicing through them at times. Back in my drinking days I was far more bothered and vocal about what I deemed a selfish disrespect to musicians. I don’t get nearly as hot under the collar now - there really is no point. People have paid good money to hear some excellent experimental sounds and they’re buzzing with excitement and probably just as much about being free, alive and enriched by the whole thing and each other. In the main, I’ve found Rewire audiences to be incredibly respectful and generous with their appreciation.
The greater annoyance must be glowing phones puncturing the darkness - and I mean that in both a lighting sense and, in many cases, the foreboding pitch black mood artists are expertly evoking. Only, here, there is a good reason for the scrolling as - given said emphasis on getting to gigs on time - people are plotting their next move well in advance. It really is an exhausting festival in this sense - the blessing and the curse of an all you can eat menu of music and insatiable ticket holders.
And it’s not just gigs on offer. Throughout the weekend there is a full programme of talks, workshops and short films that span sound, culture, community, history, religion, politics and beyond - a word on those below.
And so, with a new found independence from my phone, I moved through Den Haag from church to film house, arts centre to cultural events complex making a mental map of where I’d be hot-footing it to and from against the clock in order to catch the many acts I’d earmarked prior to leaving the UK.
To my genuine surprise, visual constellations began to form in my mind. It’s funny what an obsession with music can do to a long failing memory. Less successful were my first couple of trips back and forth to my hotel which was situated some way out of the centre. So, I would simply leave first thing in the morning and not return until I’d seen the last artist of the day I could stay awake for. Tough on the feet, easier on the brain, I reasoned.
By the end of the second day, I was in full flow - confident enough to journey unaided and at one with flying solo. Now, it was all about the music - and what a line up.
In an act of mercy, I’ll leave reviews to the proper writers on here, so this is a brief overview of some of the artists I enjoyed…
Moin ft. Sophia Al-Maria, Olan Monk & Coby Sey
Perhaps the highlight of a very strong field, Moin and their trio of rotating guest vocalists tore up Paard I – a no-frills venue that reminds me of some of London’s finest from yesteryears - with the heaviest and danciest set I managed to catch. Marshalled by the extraordinary talent that is octopodal drummer Valentina Magaletti, Moin - two parts London electronic duo Raime - played with the submissive crowd across spiky, angular workouts, and extended pulsating build ups that never disappointed - delivering euphoric pay-offs that had most wishing the regulation 45 minute set didn’t apply to this electrifying experimental supergroup. Moin are the kind of band that make you want to be in a band.
Nyokabi Kariũki and The Amsterdam Cello Octet
Those in attendance at Amare - the largest cultural building in the Netherlands - on Sunday afternoon were treated to tales of Kenyan folklore and birdsong, courtesy of singer, composer and sound artist Nyokabi Kariũki whose relatively newfound passion for ornithology and her research of African musical traditions gave flight to a suite of songs backed by recordings of Kenya’s native birds and Amsterdam’s native cello octet. A natural storyteller and vocalist, Kariũki’s scene-setting and rousing performance made for a set that near moved me to tears. As ‘love’ can be an insufficient word for the universe it assumes to encapsulate, so too ‘music’ is far too limiting a word for such performances as this.
Colin Stetson
Before Stetson takes to the stage, two saxophones sit spotlit centre stage, rigid exhibits soon to have life breathed into them by a musician who has spent years exploring their endless magical possibilities. For three quarters of an hour, the American saxophonist is a one man factory - all muscles, steam and tireless industry - the product of which resembles mournful tugboats, mechanical birds and heavy morse code. The tracks from 2024’s ‘The love it took to leave you’ are translated perfectly but are found all the more captivating for the composer’s lung-busting taming of his instruments in the live setting, one that the high-energy former wrestler turns into a gladiatorial arena - truly a sight and sound to behold if ever you get the chance to.
Other sets I particularly enjoyed at Rewire 2025:
Tristan Perich & ensemble 0 - a trio of vibraphones move rapidly and rhythmically around each other to enchanting and hypnotic effect.
Kali Malone performing “All Life Long” - the organ master took control of Grote Kerk’s humongous instrument but not before a male voice choir and brass quartet had set the scene at the festival’s largest and most imposing venue - a fitting choice for Malone’s exquisite work.
FUJIIIIIIIIIITA - the Japanese sound artist presented a slow-burn of a set using an electro-acoustic instrument I have never seen before and have no understanding of. Eventually, live vocal loops were dovetailing with buzzes, hums and clicks, as artist and audience found themselves firmly in the groove.
Eiko Ishibashi - competing for attendees with other festival closer, Laurie Anderson, Japanese musician, Ishibashi, graced Lutherse Kerk with effortless ambience, live grand piano, flute and fleeting vocal injections. A serene end to a frenetic festival.
SCREENINGS
Panoptic (2017)
Of the three shorts I saw at Filmhuis Den Haag, sound designer Rana Eid’s audio-visual exploration of her home nation Lebanon's past and present was the most affecting – as it stood back to consider the legacy of conflict in the country. A particularly poignant scene sees the compere of a supercharged public rally – with all manner of religious, political and military posturing – announce the event’s climactic moment that would see a hot air balloon rise above the hyped crowd. The balloon threatens momentarily to take flight as it half fills with air, only for it to slowly wilt and die altogether back on the ground. No words of commentary necessary.
Echoing Archives: Tracing Iran Through Jazz and Big Band
Admittedly, I didn’t make it to many talks this year but I wasn’t going to miss researcher, curator and writer Katayoun Arian’s session on the history of jazz in her native Iran. I was not disappointed. Katayoun (a DJ working under the name ‘discourse’) walked us through the rise of the genre there – originally fronted as it was by several American musicians who were treated like dignitaries and superstars by the state, while the country’s own accomplished composers were silenced and in some cases imprisoned for their own popular music efforts. Streaming songs from her laptop and spinning old vinyl on a record player, Katayoun presented a playlist of songs from local artists spanning the 1950s, 60s and 70s – to a track, they were incredible historical snapshots but also, in their own right, just absolute bangers.
As I finish writing this very long and rambling post back home in Suffolk, UK, I have just seen a message from the festival organisers to say early bird tickets for next year are already available to buy. A little premature perhaps, but in these uncertain times for events organisers, who can blame them? I know I will take a while to come down from the cultural high I experienced and will undoubtedly be one of the early birds.
I can’t recommend Rewire enough to those of an experimental and curious persuasion. The phrase ‘there’s something for everyone’ may sound like a tacky sales pitch that leaves you thinking ‘so nothing for me then’ but the pitch-perfect curation by the organisers means it absolutely applies here without dilution of quality or loss of focus. If it sounds like your cup of tea, maybe I’ll see you there next year – I might not be alone, and would still very much prefer to attend with mates – either way, I’m now 100% certain I can help you get from A to B without a phone in sight…
Cheers,
PH x
I’ve been to Berlin’s CTM/Transmediale a few times on my own, and thoroughly enjoyed myself. You’ve captured the sense of moving through new cities and personal listening space and time perfectly. rewire’s on my must attend one year, so maybe I’ll be navigating the same routes next year!