Before we even start, here is a little something I wrote last year, and the same disclaimer applies this year too. This account is personal and subjective, and means no harm to your favourite band/artist if I happened not to vibe with them. Feel free to enjoy the photos. And dislike my favourite bands, if it helps, they often deserve it.

It has to be said that Wednesday, August 6, was not our first day on the island this year. We thought we’d beat the crowds by picking up our bracelets on Monday the 4th. As it turns out, you’re never too experienced to commit rookie festival mistakes: for the first time in, whelp, 21 years, I managed to pull my bracelet too tight and had to have it exchanged through a baroque but ultimately efficient administrative process. Sziget’s staff are the nicest and kindest ever. Also, there’s nothing a nice Unicum and beer in Csónakház can’t fix. And at least we were over the shock of the Revolut Stage (I still call it A38) not being pretty and pointy and red anymore. More about that later.

Actual day one, then, and someone you know will of course find an artist playing very early and quite literally on the remotest stage this year- everything has been reshuffled, there are districts with names, which, at first, feel discombobulating but grow on you as the festival rumbles along. Many Sziget veterans tend to be of the conservative/moany kind, reminiscing of some sort of gilded age –gilded ages never happened, we just project them onto our past- so the changes were regarded with suspicion, but were probably quite welcome, and injected dynamism into a setup that had become perhaps a little stale.

So, off to the Lightstage, and to Italians putting footballing sound bites to music, which, alongside riding Vespas, hating on people who break spaghetti in half, wild gesturing and having tiny ristrettos of nuclear strength is the most Italian thing one one cam imagine. The samples range from the obscure to the viral, but the crowd slowly gets sucked in. The task is not that easy. This is the still very rested, very clean, very reserved bunch you only ever see on day one, when they still had time for a good night’s sleep, solid food for lunch and a five step skincare routine. Materazi Future Club is the perfect way to get the party started. (No, they did not misspell it, it’s on purpose, you pedants.)

I will admit that the 5 PM slot in Revolut is not my area of expertise- it’s also a pretty unkind slot, the crowd is often made up of fresh arrivals who just wanted to hit the first available bar and people who don’t want to get sunburnt in front of the Main Stage. So I didn’t know much about RØRY, besides an automatic, mild dislike for anyone who puts weird, language inappropriate letters and diacritics in their name to look more interesting. RØRY is in fact Roxanne Emery- don’t even try googling Rory, it’ll land you with the Northern Irish golfer, so perhaps the weird spelling becomes more forgivable now. There is undeniable passion in her delivery but then she complains about being very old, which, apparently, is 40ish. I feel a little insulted, but stay on for a couple of songs, They seem pleasantly angry and I am not sure those two attributes go along very well.

See, RØRY, 40 is no age at all. Extra kudos to the gentleman for the details on the hat.

Time for a little exploration of the island with a pit stop at Little Simz. She, in fact, sounds just great but occasionally there’s a show that, while being quite compelling is not compelling enough- in festival terms. A topic we discussed a lot, this year, as ever: what makes a great festival show, and what breaks it? In an unrelated development, why is everyone wearing boots, even when looking quite miserable in them, heat and all.

Case in point for the great festival show, Palaye Royale, who take to the stage in Revolut with a feral energy that makes them sound like the best thing since sliced bread. Then a few days later I try to listen to their album and get quite bored by track three, but soldier through it nevertheless, since I am the kind of Person Who Listens to Full Albums. This does not change the fact that they work wonderfully as a live band, their rather formulaic rock blend moving into an extra dimension for that one hot, sweaty evening hour. Should you wonder, Palaye Royale is just an alternate spelling of Palais Royale, which is a dance hall in Toronto, and is already grammatically incorrect in French, but given the random rules of French orthography, anything goes, really.

I’ll leave the gourmet Sziget reviews to those who know much more about the topic than I do, but I want to mention the fact that I feel food prices are fair, compared to Budapest city centre (which is the right comparison, and not, say, a smalltown canteen), and the offerings are quite diverse. This being said, I just always get the hot dogs. The classic ones had sausages cooked on lava stones and self service toppings, but these days it’s one of either Yankee or New York hot dog. They’re pretty ubiquitous and by day two I develop a feel for which stall has the best quality/speed ratio. My top tip is to always include the pickles, you need that fermented goodness to help your stomach along a rough ride. Speaking of which, enter fény- bubbly vodka sprayed onto a sticky layer of fruit syrup, traditionally elderflower or raspberry. This superb health drink originated in Veszprém and is more popular in the Balaton area than around Budapest, so Sziget is a great place to enjoy it while you can. It does pack an immediate punch, hence the name, fény, as in light, which you will see as the bubbles work their way through your system. The vodka is however diluted with the soda, so it causes no long lasting ill effects as long as consumed in moderation.

Day one’s Main Stage headliner was Charli XCX, and so everyone wore brat green, except Charli. She wore yellow. I AM old and lame, the Coldplay song automatically started playing in my head. And exactly because I am old and lame, I have notes on Charli’s show, like perhaps she could really use a band to make it more interesting, running around in a bikini feels more like a triathlon- she is super fit, I admit that much, but in spite of some undeniable bangers being played I did not feel much of an urge to stick around. As opposed to Palaye Royale, this was something I could just as well enjoy on the evil little green app on my computer. Not brat green, but almost.

The geriatric millennials were anyways flocking to Revolut for Papa Roach, which is, alas, another phenomenon lost on me, but the blog’s industrious co-photographer considered it a dream come true and loved it accordingly. I was more engaged in the conversation of three girls who were wondering if HE (Jacoby Shaddix) is Papa Roach, or they are ALL Papa Roach in which case they could have been called Papa and the Roaches. Should you be interested, the explanation of the name is here. In an interesting development, there were quite a few children at the concert- front row, in some cases. Which makes you think that a certain generation, raised with music festivals, are now at the point where they can start bringing their children and will of course begin by sharing the acts they loved most back in the day. Generally speaking, I think kids on Sziget works well- a lot of areas can be very interesting and entertaining for somewhat older children. I am a bit on the fence with front rows at the bigger stages- the kids were wearing noise cancelling headphones for one, but a mosh pit prone environment is not always the safest, I would say.

I can’t say much about the Kenya Grace concert other than that I was there, and not at the shiny new Aperol Spritz area (sign of the times, Aperol fever has conquered the island). As per an online review, Kenya likes to ‘weave heartache into harmony’, which sounds promising, but the actual embodiment is perhaps just a little repetitive bordering on the tedious. I did realise I might have heard her most famous single, Strangers, which definitely has a somewhat dreamy appeal, while browsing for body lotion in Müller. One of those things that is both good and bad, depending on what angle you choose to approach it from.

It’s been a couple of years now that I managed to attend the full festival with no szikness, the Sziget-specific version of the festiflu. One of the secrets of my success is, I believe, going home early-ish. Boring and predictable, but bear with me. Except my infancy, when I apparently refused to sleep point blank, I have always favoured going to bed, and rising, early. Late nights were something I resented in my teens and twenties as well, but went along with it lest I seem lame. I am now old enough to be lame and make peace with it and I won’t force my body into doing things it’s unhappy with, which apparently does wonders for immunity. So I am quite selective about which concerts that start after midnight I will go to. Empire of the Sun seemed like a solid bet, as they are one of the more visually compelling acts out there. The young and fit will dance, the old and tired will enjoy the stage setup and the fact that the new Revolut tent has much better ventilation and doesn’t get hot and stuffy so easily. Beauty is not the only thing, after all.