I used to devour music festivals like a pelican swallowing fish, regardless of their size, location, musical genre, or the degree of danger they posed to my liver and, as the years went by, my spine. Big ones, small ones, tiny ones, multi-day marathons involving running from stage to stage, sleeping for a few hours, and surviving on fumes of beer, adrenaline, and decibels. Over the years, however, my enthusiasm has faded somewhat, particularly when it comes to the biggest events. I'm increasingly reluctant to spend several days in one place, ticking off concerts like entries in an Excel spreadsheet and fighting my way through crowds. My love affair with Brutal Assault has probably suffered the most. I attended the festival eight years in a row, but at some point I came to the conclusion that you could predict the lineups of future editions several years in advance, because the same bands kept coming back with the regularity of a Swiss watch. Except that instead of a cuckoo popping out every two years, you get the same death or black metal band.

That doesn't mean the festival fire inside me has died and all that's left is to shovel some dirt over the ashes. Quite the opposite. In recent years, I've discovered the immense pleasure of traveling to small, unconventional events, preferably somewhere off the beaten track, in smaller cities and towns, far away from the urban hustle, corporate logos, and the festival industry. The musical genre is secondary here, because good music comes in many forms, and I've always enjoyed exploring different musical niches. These are events usually organized by locals, enthusiasts, and positive lunatics who, instead of calculating the return on their investment, are more likely to be wondering how much more of their own money they'll have to put in to make everything add up. Because it's not about profit; it's about music, people, and that damn satisfying feeling of having managed to put together something worthwhile. In recent years, I've attended several events like this, catering to 200–300 people, and every single time has been a fucking blast.

On Saturday, I found myself at Black Wave Fest in Jarocin. I'd had this event on my radar for several years, but somehow our paths had never crossed. This time, it was already the eleventh edition, and the organizers apparently decided to leave me absolutely no excuses. Six bands, four of which I really like and two I downright adore. Well, fuck me, checkmate! With a lineup like that, there was nothing left to do but show up in Jarocin and let someone give my eardrums a proper thrashing. And that's exactly what happened.

Everything was organized down to the last detail, without any unnecessary grandstanding, but with a clear sense that someone really knew what they were doing. The cultural center's concert hall turned out to be a fantastic venue for an event like this. There was also a great outdoor area, the freedom to come and go as you pleased (with a supermarket nearby 😉), and a relaxed atmosphere you simply can't buy with a sponsor's check. And the sound? Ladies and gentlemen, absolutely razor-sharp! Six different bands, six different musical worlds, and every single one sounded absolutely massive, crystal clear, and simply fantastic. Everything sat exactly where it should, and at times the sound practically drove me through the floor. From the first note to the last, the concerts delivered complete satisfaction.

And while we're talking about the pleasures of festivals, let's not forget that all that running around between concerts was never just about the music. It was also about the people. Meeting old friends, sometimes ones you haven't seen in years, reminiscing about past concert adventures, and talking about music, life, and whatever else happens to come to mind. At big festivals, it often boils down to a quick "Hey, what's up?" because someone is rushing off somewhere, someone else disappears into the crowd, and the rest are trying to find each other by the third portable toilet from the left. At smaller events, there's time to sit down, have a beer, talk to everyone, and still make it to every concert. It might seem like a small thing, but as I get older, I appreciate these little luxuries more and more.

Another very pleasant surprise was Jarocin itself, which I was visiting for only the second time. I still had an image in my head of a somewhat run-down little town from documentaries about the legendary festival of the 1980s, where punks, metalheads, and all sorts of people the authorities of the time would have gladly sent off for compulsory haircuts wandered the streets. Modern-day Jarocin, however, looks genuinely fantastic. There's clear evidence of substantial revitalization, and the town center is beautiful, well-maintained, and absolutely worth a stroll. I came here looking for noise and ended up getting a rather pleasant sightseeing tour thrown in for good measure.

And that's exactly why I love the independent music scene. Because of people who, after all these years, still can't get enough of it. People willing to devote their time, energy, nerves, and probably a fair amount of their own money so that a few hundred fellow maniacs can spend a fantastic evening enjoying music that sounds to most of society like a malfunctioning piece of heavy construction equipment. Huge applause and respect to the organizers of Black Wave Fest for their passion, perseverance, and a job exceptionally well done. Initiatives like this deserve our support, because they're the ones reminding us that the musical underground is alive wherever someone is still willing to get off their ass and do something from the heart.

Jarocin, we'll meet again. And I know I won't need to wait for another eleven editions before coming back.

P.S. Life had one more unplanned attraction in store for me. At the hotel where I ended up after the festival, a DJ party carried on until dawn, with bass frequencies pounding through my guts with the force of a festival headliner. Getting any fucking sleep was impossible! So, dear Jarocin, thanks a lot for the festival, but next year I'd appreciate it if you could spare me the afterparty!

Norbert