Dour Festival 2025: Was it Worth to Go Back?

Doureeuh Doureeuh Doureeuh. Dour c’est l’amour. Dour c’est vous. Dour is love. Dour is you. And it really is the people who make Dour so special. 

Forty-eight hours of Dour. We made it. We survived Dour 2025.

But let’s rewind for a second. And as you read, ask yourself: is she really going to do this to herself again next year?

Chaos Before the Beat Drops

A Belgian-Italian-Spanish, an Argentinian, two Cypriots, and an Italian on the Belgian highway. Not a joke, just a classic Brussels carpool. Laughter, sun, good spirits, good company. It’s Friday, and in two hours, we’ll be at Dour.

I’ve dragged my FEMMEBASS sister with me, DECONOFF — fellow Cypriot, DJ, trained lawyer, event manager, ride-or-die — to help me navigate the festival (and this review, thanks for the help babe). We check in at the press office. Angels greet us. Polite, efficient, all good… until:

“The green camping pass has already been scanned.”

Oh, no.

Turns out the girl I bought it from who bought it from someone else accidentally scanned mine instead of hers. Honest mistake. It can def happen in 30 degrees.

We go to the staff at the gate where things go downhill fast. The ticket guy is wearing Prada sunglasses and is dressed in black baggy clothes and has the warmth of an ice cube.

“Nothing we can do.”
“I won’t repeat myself.”
“It’s a security matter.”
“If someone puts a gun to your head, how will we know who you are?”

Yes, he really said that. A manager is called. She arrives, curly hair and zero English. She calls another person and in the end she offers zero help, and tells us (dead serious) that I should sleep alone in regular camping. Never mind that I paid for green, that I’m part of the press, that the girl is here with me trying to fix her mistake. Still: “No solution.”

At that point, I start asking myself how the hell Paylogic—the faceless ticket overlord—gets to decide where I sleep. Seriously, who put them in charge of my sleeping schedule? Where are the humans in this system? Why does trying to talk to those two felt like wrestling with a glitchy app that won’t load no matter what you do?

And I do get it, it’s 250,000 people, a logistical monster, fine. And yes, we made a mistake.

But it wasn’t the error that gutted me as much as the attitude. The inhuman, dismissive, computer-says-no energy. Like, cool, you’ve automated empathy right out of the equation. Bravo.

But whatever. Shit happens. They say when we make plans, god laughs. We move. We run to Balzaal.

Mother was starting. And I was not missing her EXHIBIT set.

Anetha Live at Dour 2025: Climate Techno, Feminist Power, and Pixel Fire

I’ve seen Anetha four times at Fuse Brussels (dedication or obsession, your pick). But this was different. Fifteen thousand people shouting “Mamaaa!” under a bright blue sky. I was so happy to be surrounded by fellow groupies. Anetha, you will always be famous.

EXHIBIT was a full-blown visual experience powered by Femur’s unique cinematography: climate stats, train routes, carbon emissions, MSN nostalgia, a pixelated womb echoing her Motherearth cover art. The vibe was ethereal and urgent; electronic music with a message. I also notice people getting uncomfortable with some of the visuals and I love it. This is what art should be. Provocative, fresh, fun: full of what makes us human. 

If you don’t know Anetha, shame on you. She is the definition of girl boss. Not only is she a DJ, producer, fashion icon, architect and a mother, she is also a co-founder of Mama Told Ya and Mama Loves Ya, a label, an agency, an eco-conscious community that’s as future-facing as it gets. MTY artists tour sustainably and the agency (who has more a family vibe) also donates to green causes to offset their carbon emissions. And the DJs they rep? Absolute diamonds: think Mac Declos, Lacchesi, Vel, Shacke…

Her latest album Motherearth reflects her love for the planet and the next generation. She is not just here to drop bangers (though she absolutely does that freakin’ well) — she’s here to challenge you, guide you, whilst throwing the best dance party. Every track urges you to dance like no one’s watching and own who you are. Well done Dour for rebooking Mama, 1 point goes to you!

Anetha is also a loud, proud feminist. Tracks like “Let’s Talk About Femininity” and “I Am Sorry for Being So Sexy” are the girl-power anthems we all need. Anetha is a girl’s girl through and through.

And that was crystal clear when, mid-set, a girl proposes to her boyfriend. They make it to the big screen. Anetha reposts it later on her Insta. Traditions reversed. She makes us glow as we watch her glow brighter and brighter every year. 

Next up: KI/KI, Dutch queen of acid. The visuals looked like a Windows 98 screensaver hijacked by Hoffman. Perfect. Her set? 10/10. But we had to bolt (nothing personal, queen) — FKA Twigs was starting. And when the goddesses descend, you show up.

FKA Twigs and the Divine Feminine

Short break moment: Burger in hand. Feet on the grass. Sitting at a festival? Highly underrated.

FKA Twigs appears like she’s floating in the Last Arena’s gigantic, rectangular screens. She and her dancers are ethereal beings. Their chemistry, their precision: it’s otherworldly.

She splits the show into three acts, ‘practice,’ ‘state of being,’ and ‘the pinnacle.’ I expected a concert, but it felt like performance art. A museum of feelings. I don’t have the words to describe how moving and original the performance was, so I’ll give you this link instead to their performance in Paris (you are welcome).

Then we stumble toward Crème Solaire. Someone said “experimental,” so I said yes. A Swiss punk-rap freakshow with the Palestinian flag on stage. Instant respect. This is exactly why I love festivals, when politics sneak in through the basslines. Fun shouldn’t mean forgetting that genocide is happening; it should also serve as a painful reminder when the world wants you to forget.

Festivals can function as metaphorical mirrors: utopias and heterotopias emerging from an everyday reality that increasingly resembles a dystopian nightmare. Heterotopias, a concept popularised by French philosopher Foucault, aren’t real places in the conventional sense, but are rather ephemeral, in-between spaces enabling you to imagine alternative ways of being, of existing, co-existing, tolerating, bonding, and connecting to the world and to one another. At Dour, there was room to feel it all: joy, pain, reflection, hope.

Especially hope, echoing Ernst Bloch: “The most tragic form of loss isn’t the loss of security; it’s the loss of the capacity to imagine that things could be different.” And talking about hope, I am hoping that they will find a way to integrate more nature in the festival area (grass doesn’t count sorry x).

Sherelle and the 4AM shame walk to the camping

Anw, as you can see I really think hard and strong about festivals but now back to action. As I was saying, dear reader, we then caught Sherelle at Petit Maison. Balzaal had the honour of welcoming daddy Marlon Hoffstadt and hard techno hurricane Sara Landry, but since I’ve seen them both multiple times so I felt that I needed something different, a strong dose of UK bass.

We manage to catch Joy Orbison’s three last tracks, and vibe hard when he plays his signature ‘Flight FM’ track. 100/10. Sherelle then deliveres. Her set is very precise and her transitions clean. It is a fun set although sometimes I feel like it missed the kind of anticipation and clumsiness I sometimes appreciate in sets. It is all very progressive, every transition executed with the precision of a brain surgeon. But then of course she surprises us with her final song of the set being the Titanic theme. Because why not. It was the song we didn’t know we needed. Our eyes spotted two guys reenacting the iconic scene, and I melt.

Later, we land at the Boombox stage for the last act of the night. Can’t tell you who was playing—brain cell count: 1. Vibe: good. Stamina: low. By 4 a.m., we’re retrieving my stuff from the car, shiny with exhaustion. I get help from my friend and a friend of a friend, and the quote “the cost of community is inconvenience” keeps spinning in my head. And I feel grateful and blessed.

Saturday Survival Mode: Showers, Whistles, and Kenya Grace

I crash at 6am. By 9:30, I’m roasting in the tent. Not gonna lie, I hate everything. I wait 30 minutes in the queue to shower. Eat canned tuna like a cat. Feel somehow a bit better.

The benefit of returning to the same place twice is that you’re more prepared. It doesn’t change the situation, but at least you know what to expect. This time, we come armed: electrolytes, swimsuit, sunscreen, water spray bottle. Spraying myself every five minutes—my only real weapon against heatstroke. I try to nap. Fail. Try to read. Fail. I just manage to chat and exist, amoeba-style.

Meanwhile, the Dour25 green camping friend group I join radiates nothing but good vibes. Mostly Belgians, fanatic Dour goers, with a few special guests from the UK and Germany—English, Bulgarian, Norwegian, Senegalese mixes, no less—and then there’s me: the Cypriot-Serbian Brussels local with a Belgian residence card. The group is warm, buzzing with energy, and totally in their element. They make me laugh a lot. It’s like they’ve been training for this all year. Just being around them feels like a recharge.

After a lot of canned Greek food which makes everyone jealous when they compare it to their Belgian canned food (sorry not sorry x), we get ready and make our way to catch Girls Don’t Sync in high spirits. Little to no queuing. Woohoo. But the rain which initially was coming and going soaks us for good and we are forced to find shelter at Petit Maison.

Kenya Grace is on. I’ve never heard of her before, but she’s magnetic. I look her up, turns out she’s kinda big, kinda huge. Oops. Started off as a bedroom producer. Writes about dating app culture. It clicks. A pleasant surprise. Her performance actually makes me reflect on my Dour experience so far. I catch myself drifting into memory lane. But I am like nah, not now. I snap back to the present. I’m in the mood for a party, to be honest.

Balzaal All Night: TSHA, Folamour, and Dom Dolla

We then go to the most impressive stage in the festival, pour moi: Balzaal. No more chasing blurry WhatsApps to see who is where, what, etc. Enough is enough, we grow roots there. The crowd is amazing, colourful; I see kids dancing, a lad dressed in a Red Riding Hood costume, someone carrying a branch of a tree so their friends can find them. It’s the rave vibe I live for, the disruption of monotony. Folamour keeps us going. Then TSHA who really surprises me with nonstop bangers, no chill. I’d see her again in a heartbeat.

Then: Dom. Fucking. Dolla.

Cleanest bassline of the weekend. Smooth like velvet, heavy like a rock. What genre is it? No idea. Doesn’t matter, as he owns it and he drops his own productions and classic remixes (think ‘Satisfaction’ and ‘Love Parade’).

Group vibes? High. Sure, we missed Max Cooper and Saint Levant </3, but you can’t do everything in one life. In one Dour. Lesson learnt.

Then fatigue and lack of sleep caught up with me faster than a galloping horse. I said goodbye to just one friend and sneakily retreated to my tent before the peer-pressure questions started: “Stay for one more,” “Where are you going?” I appreciate them, but the boss is the body, and when it decides it’s over, gurl, who am I to tell her otherwise?

Dour 2025: Final Thoughts, Pros, Cons, and What’s Next

The Good? 

• The amazing crowd!! Chill, diverse, fun, safe. True ravers and partygoers.
  
• Green camping was better than last year (still too warm though).
  
• The cleaning lady at the camping showers? Absolute legend. Give her a raise.
  
•  A lot of different genres for all tastes and a mix of small and big names (there was a dub corner that was recorded, you are again welcome as it’s like 106 dub and reggae and jungle sets). There was also a Garage stage (rock), Le Labo experimental, Hip hop acts, a Jupiler stage with more of a club vibe, and another smaller stage with sand. It was crazy how many things were happening at the same time and how musically varied it is.
  

The Meh?

• The weekend lineup didn’t hit the same way it did in 2024—it felt a bit random. The artists were really promising, but the way the sets were arranged was a bit confusing to my ears. That said, I didn’t attend on Wednesday, Thursday, or Sunday, so I can’t really judge those days… but they did look stacked. Charlotte on Sunday looked insane (FOMO). And Otta on Wednesday? Stormzy on Thursday? Okay, I need to stop now. Some friends of mine – whom I managed to catch for 30 minutes during the whole weekend – did the full Wednesday-to-Sunday run (admirable) and told me the lineup for them was a solid 10/10. So I guess when you get the whole experience and stay all the 5 days, it really does compensate? But at what cost?
  
• I’d also love to see more stage curations or takeovers from young, new artists alongside veterans.
  
• Dourohs: to do the math you needed to revisit your high-school math syllabus and the 3.5 euro charge to get a refund….
  
• Paylogic as the ticketing system
  

Would I go back?

Well, actually most prob yeah. I live in Belgium. I am the queen of FOMO. It’s starting to become a tradition.

Some people I know have been five times already. I am sure there are people who have gone year after year with no hesitation. Dour becomes part of your life. And at the end of it all, I look around and think:

Dour c’est l’amour. Dour c’est vous. You feel the love. Because the passionate Doureans make this place what it is. And I think that sense of community is what keeps everyone coming back. But I do have high expectations for the 37th edition 15/7-19/7/2026. I hope they don’t disappoint (and I kinda have a feeling that they won’t).