The 2025 edition of the Netherlands long-running Grauzone Festival felt like stepping through the looking glass and into a post-punk wonderland – a three-day summer camp where the clock stopped ticking, and the world outside faded away. By day three, every pale face under the flicker of strobes felt like an old comrade in some nocturnal adventure – or at least a willing accomplice for a stolen moment sharing a cigarette at 3 a.m.
With the turmoil of daily news leaving disquiet roiling outside every venue door, Grauzone’s function as a temporary hideaway felt more vital than ever. Anxieties practically melted away in the wash of throbbing synths, replaced by the camaraderie of fellow travelers and like-minded souls transfixed by the same shimmering beats.
A through-line of commanding female energy ran riot across this edition. Zola Jesus‘s spectral timbre echoed around the halls with an authority that felt utterly unearthly, adorned only by sparse piano accompaniment. Then, Anja Huwe of Xmal Deutschland reminded everyone that true legends don’t fade—they refine themselves with sharper precision with her blend of new solo material and Xmal classics. Her icy, raven-down-coated post-punk left some spectators teary-eyed, even if they didn’t understand the German lyrics. Meanwhile, Geneva Jacuzzi channeled the spirit of Klaus Nomi, intertwining Bauhaus-era Oskar Schlemmer theatrics with her new wave flair, blurring art and performance so completely it felt like stepping inside a living installation. Marie Davidson followed with an industrial edge and a voice like a razor’s blade, making it clear that women were steering Grauzone 2025.
The nostalgic spirit of the ‘80s sinews laced itself throughout the festival’s lineup. Riki, SRSQ, Madeline Goldstein, Ms. Boan, Silver Tears, Spike Hellis, Selofan, Soft Vein, Sacred Skin, and Pol all conjured a time that persists in communal memory as if those spooled cassette tapes never fully unraveled. For me, it was a tug back to old car rides with my dad, his battered tapes stuffed with Sandra, C.C. Catch, and Laura Branigan – the relics of his youth, insinuating themselves into mine.
Backstage, I slipped behind the red velvet curtains to capture the festival’s dream logic through my lens. It was pure Twin Peaks ambiance back there, a surrealist realm that recalled the hush of Lynch’s Black Lodge, the perfect visual metaphor for Grauzone’s sense of collective escapism.
SRSQ enacted spontaneous performances beyond the stage, hijacking a foyer in Paarda and whirling her powerful dream pop spell around onlookers walking in between stages. Then came the best-kept secret of the weekend: a surprise set from the ever-so-captivating and suave Curses. A queue snaked around the block, a testament to the festival’s unbroken devotion to every shape of guitar and synth-fuelled incantation.
Everything ultimately coalesced on the main stage, where TR/ST delivered a closing salvo that reverberated on a cellular level. When “Candy Walls” bled from the speakers, you could practically taste the salt of tears in the air. Even after the final note, the crowd clung to the lingering reverb, flat-out refusing to surrender the night.
Grauzone 2025 wasn’t just a festival: it was a shared dream, an extension of ourselves none of us wanted to abandon when the last strobe flickered out. But the sleeper must awaken. Until next year…
Backstage Portraits:
Or via: