Messed!Up
Reeperbahn Festival, one of Europe’s biggest showcase festivals and a vibrant fusion of live performances, conferences, and art exhibits, pulled off yet another amazing edition, the third weekend in September, and offered us another exhilarating festival experience. Heaps of performances across dozens of venues create an atmosphere where you’ll likely stumble upon the next big act before they hit mainstream success, and the variety of venues, from quirky spots including churches and rooftops to large concert halls like Elbphilharmonie, allows for intimate experiences. It adds a certain charm to discovering new music in unexpected settings.
It was time for Messed!Up to set off for the eighth coverage of the festival – a ten-year anniversary for our editor – and as usual, we didn’t save any energy and went all-in from the opening day. Because let’s make one thing clear: what started as a normal festival coverage for us back in 2018 has morphed into something much bigger. Today, it’s the festival is more about networking than watching gigs. Just to compare, in 2018, I watched 43 gigs, and this year, not even half of that because we were at so many receptions to hook up with all the agencies we work with during the year, and this year was exceptionally networking dense. It’s fun, but I do understand why I’m completely worked out on the last day of the festival. Showcases overlap, genres collide, and the feeling can be disorienting and, at the same time, addictive, like stepping into a parallel city built entirely on music.
After checking in at Heiligengeistfeld, sorting out our accreditation, and claiming three lockers in the press area, our first appointment was a reception hosted by one of the agencies we collaborate with most every year: Italian Kinda Agency. Even better, this was the first time ever we got the chance to meet up with Denise and Marina, two lovely peeps we talk to weekly online. Kinda hosted a meet-up in a Weingarten at Spielbudenplatz (the heart of Reeperbahn), and we probably spent three hours there, talking to people from all across the world. That’s how Reeperbahn Festival is. The first hours of the festival never ease you in; they drop you straight into it. By early evening, St. Pauli is already humming – queues curling around venues, wristbands flashing under neon, and a schedule so dense it borders on absurd.
It was time to set off for the first of two gigs tonight (it’s the opening day and not as many shows as on the rest of the days), Irish rising indie band Florence Road. A friend of mine had recommended them, saying, ‘It reminds me of an indie rock Billie Eilish with a good belting power behind it’. Now, I’m not a Billie Eilish fan at all, but when setting the bar on Billie Eilish height, you just have to be there to decide for yourself, right?
It was also the debut for the new Molotow at Reeperbahn Festival. Molotow changed its location back in March after being a victim of gentrification and losing its original venue. The new location is good, especially a much bigger space for the audience, but it’s not even close to how it used to be. I mean, there’s no backyard, hence no outdoor stage, and no sky bar. I will still be a Molotow patriot, but it’s different now. Anyhow, Florence Road; flawless production, amazing singing, incredible instrumentals – this was so unexpected and so not Billie Eilish. At the center, frontwoman Lily Aron’s vocal delivery becomes the anchor point. On record, her voice carries a kind of detached cool; live, it’s far more elastic. I don’t know their songs at all and can’t really name-drop any of them, but two songs got stuck in my head, and when I was back in my flat later, I added “Heavy” and “Goodnight” to my playlist. I’m very curious about the future of this band and hope there will be a debut album coming out in 2026.
Although being tired from travelling from work abroad directly to Reeperbahn Festival without barely making it back to my flat first, there was another band I was very keen to see live for the first time. German stoner rock/garage rock band Bikini Beach were about to go on stage at Angie’s on top of Schmidt’s Theater – a venue I’ve never been to during my nine years in Hamburg.
After hearing Cursed, the band’s seventh album, earlier this year, I dug into their back catalogue because the album is fantastic – and then I listened to their 2023 album, Appetizer – nothing short of brilliant! I wonder how on Earth I could have missed out on them. But the answer is very simple: it’s a German band, and if you don’t sing in German, you’re basically invisible in this country. How they sound? It’s White Stripes meeting Alice Cooper in a dirty, grungy, garage rock alley.
From the second Bikini Beach plug-in, the room feels like it’s running on voltage instead of air. There’s no slow build, no careful introduction, just a blast of fuzzed-out guitar that hits like a slammed door and sets the tone for everything that follows. Their riffs are thick, blown-out, and gloriously excessive, and it’s loud in a way that isn’t just volume – it’s tangible stuff moving in the air. The performance itself borders on unhinged. Bassist/vocalist Lotti Love and guitarist/vocalist Nils Hagstrom are constantly moving and never losing grip of the audience. It’s a massive punch in the face, it’s messy, and it’s LOUD.
However, we leave when the last song starts because a tough work week has taken its toll. There are three more days to cover – much longer days – and we must be in good shape for tomorrow. But a great start of the festival – networking and two great live bands.
The second day continued as yesterday, and it was another hectic networking day, and not as many shows as we intended to cover. The day started off at local promoter October Promotion’s reception while heavy rain was plaguing Hamburg. Let’s say that we didn’t want to move from our rain-safe location at Hausverbot. At least we got the chance to chat with Kinda Agency again and some sweet people from different record labels about future coverage of their bands. But most importantly, plan when to eat and what. We always go for some extra treats during the festival, and since our favorite grilled cheese sandwich place had closed, we had to find a new location to hang out at before the gig day started (and in between shows, for a snack). Let’s just say I stood my ground, and this year became an Indian food year.
Once the rain finally ended, we headed in the direction of Grosse Freiheit 36. Joss from Elevator Records dragged us to watch ‘the best band in the world’, Big Thief, and although they won’t triumph over Nine Inch Nails (my favorite), I must admit it was a very entertaining show, especially for being a two-piece band.
From the outset, frontman Joe Hicklin turns the mic into something closer to a pulpit than a performance tool, and his stage banter is wrapped in humour. He veers from dry one-liners to pointed observations about class, frustration, and the absurdities of everyday life, often within the same breath, while thanking people for paying to watch them play so they can keep a high standard in life. One moment, the room is laughing, the next it’s gone quiet enough to catch the edge in his voice. And behind him, drummer Callum Moloney anchors everything with a steady, unfussy presence. It creates a balance – one voice pushing outward, the other grounding it just enough to keep things from tipping over. There’s always a risk in it this type of performance. Jokes may not always land cleanly, and tangents stretch longer than expected. But that unpredictability is the point; it keeps the room alert, unsure of whether the next moment will land as humour, critique, or something in between. That made it a memorable show without me knowing anything about the band until today (Joss, however, was ecstatic).
A long break until the next show was spent enjoying the festival vibe, because an overcrowded Reeperbahn during the festival days is something special. Reeperbahn is normally a 24/7 party street with too many people, and during the festival, the density triples. As a festivalgoer by heart, I love this feeling, especially on Reeperbahn. Sure, it’s way harder to transport yourself between point A and point B, it’s complete chaos, but there are shortcuts. But I love to be in the crowd and very often walk around among the thousands of festival people mixed with tourists just to enjoy the festival spirit and the last days of summer.
The real heartbeat of the Reeperbahn Festival doesn’t just live inside venues, it spills out onto the streets, pooling in corners, drifting between neon lights, and settling most vividly in the Festival Village at Heiligengeistfeld. Step outside any club in St. Pauli and you’re immediately pulled into it. The air feels charged, not just with music, but with movement. Crowds flow in every direction, wristbands flashing, conversations overlapping in a mix of languages. You’re never quite sure where one queue ends and another begins. Smoke hangs low, laughter cuts through it, and somewhere nearby, a busker or a distant stage leaks sound into the street, blurring the line between inside and out. People aren’t standing still; they’re on their way somewhere, comparing notes, chasing recommendations, deciding in real time what the next hour might look like. That’s the vibe I’m talking about.
A few hours of festival atmosphere and we were close to midnight, and the first band I had really looked forward to seeing live for the first time, Glasgow band Gallus. Two years ago, they released their epic debut album We Don’t Like The People We’ve Become, which ended up on my Top10 album list that year, but they’ve never visited Germany before, so I had to take the chance. Keiserkeller, the basement of Grosse Freiheit 36, hosted the gig, and it quickly filled up with semi-drunk people who wanted a last show before the real party started (well, some were ready to go home considering their beer level).
Gallus kickstart the show – it arrives already at full throttle – and the moment they step on stage, the room feels compressed, like the walls have inched closer and the air’s been swapped out for something heavier. Frontman Berry Dolan prowls, pacing the edge of the stage, leaning into the crowd as if daring it to push back while he shouts out the lines of the opening track “Cool to Drive” before speeding into full throttle at the amazing “Eye to Eye”. It’s just like I was hoping for it to be – intense and unhinged. What makes Gallus compelling live is how close they skate to losing control without ever quite tipping over. With outstanding tracks as “Are You Finished”, “Fruitflies”, and “What Do I Know” there’s no wonder the room turns moshy for a while. If you ever get a chance to catch Gallus live, don’t hesitate.
We left sweaty after the last song and grabbed a snack before returning to our beds. Tomorrow and Saturday were the really intense gig days on our schedule, and we had to rest up.
*****
For the third day, we cleared out the schedule from networking (or rather met up with people at the venues) and focused on gigs – and what a gig day it was! Yesterday took its toll, and we slowly started in the Festival Village, had a few Fritz Cola, and planned the day. I had my plans set for the Swedish band Boko Yout, both shows. But back to the Festival Village, our sanctuary to calm down from the madness at the clubs and on Reeperbahn. I’ve learned one thing over the years: You don’t go there instead of concerts; you go there because you need a pause. And then you stay longer than planned. By design, the Festival Village is a sort of reset button. Sure, it’s a meeting point and entry zone, a place people inevitably pass through while collecting wristbands or figuring out their next move, but there’s also a press area and smaller bars with few people. And, above all, there’s space to breathe because you won’t get that anywhere else these days.
On smaller stages, artists cycle through short sets, often free and often unexpected. One minute it’s a stripped-back acoustic performance; the next, a full indie band pushing fuzzy guitars into the open air. And then there are the moments that break the rhythm entirely. One of Germany’s hottest artists, Nina Chuba, turns up for a surprise show, drawing a massive crowd out of nowhere. And later in the evening, there was another surprise gig. But more about that later.
First gig of the day was Boko Yout at Häkken. Emerging from Stockholm’s creative scene, Boko Yout – or Paul Adamah – quickly gained attention for pushing beyond traditional music formats, combining punk, grunge, and afrobeat into what he calls ‘afro-grunge’. And it’s just as wild as it sounds like. I ran into the band at the Roskilde Festival’s opening days (the ‘demo’ days, but not as demo anymore) two years ago and was stunned by the live show. To some point, I knew what was coming at Häkken, but there’s still no way to prepare, right? It was completely unhinged! The band popped up on the stage dressed for safari (imagine scouts with safari hats), and as soon as the intro faded out while Paul was looking out at the audience through his binoculars, it took off like crazy. It’s raw and unhinged punk music mixed with some great post-punk. Just listen to songs like ‘Gusto’, ‘Imagine’, and ‘Ignored’ – three awesome tracks off the upcoming album – and you’ll get it.
Häkken is too small to let Boko Yout deliver the full live experience, but it got people to move from side to side. And they had another show at Molotow at midnight to look forward to, a much bigger venue and at a much better slot (imagine Häkken, daytime, and huge windows letting the light in = no gig feeling).
After the show, I shared a few words with the lad next to me, who was a festival booker from the Netherlands. He told me he only needed two songs, and then he wrote ‘Book them’ on his list.
A quick set by Coach Party at N-Joy Reeperbus at Spielbudenplatz – they’re headlining Molotow tomorrow night – and meeting up with our photographer Ms Sis, we set off for Dream Nails at Keiserkeller. And it was another smashing punk show on this day. And then the next rumor about surprise shows hit us.
One of Germany’s craziest indie rock acts, Kraftklub, were about to play 15 mini-gigs at 15 different venues tonight, starting in the Festival Village, and as Ms Sis is a huge fan, we just had to follow the band, at least for the first shows. So, setting off for the Festival Village again, and obviously, the rumor hadn’t reached out to people yet, at least not until five minutes before the Kraftklub went on stage. Then it’s a full festival flashpoint, thousands gathering in minutes, the casual atmosphere suddenly tipping into something closer to a headline show. Kraftklub have built a reputation on sheer, relentless energy, and live, that reputation holds. What consistently stands out isn’t just the sound, it’s the pace and the frenzy, especially a night like this when the band has to run on and off stages to get to the next venue. People in the Festival Village were on par with the band and joined the choir at sing-alongs. And just like that, the set was over, and the band rushed to the next venue, a tiny bar called Pooca Bar. I never made it in because Pooca Bar can at most hold 75 people, and even that is too much, but Ms Sis squeezed herself in while I was setting off for Molotow to make sure I made it into the club before it was full – and that happens a few times every festival night.
A beer later, Ms Sis turned up, Kraftklub played another show, even rowdier than the one in the Festival Village, and then we just waited for Boko Yout to turn up to close the night. I was just hoping I hadn’t pushed expectations too high, as I may have said ‘It will be the best gig at the festival for sure’ after Ms Sis had covered one of her favorite bands three times. But I was right, it was Kraftklub times five – at least.
If Boko Yout did a stellar show at Häkken a few hours earlier, this was something out of the ordinary. First, it was a much better fit for the band; now, they have the space they needed for their show. And second, Molotow at midnight is a lot better than Häkken at daytime in full daylight.
The band plays exactly the same set as earlier today, but it doesn’t matter – the performance has changed. Adamah doesn’t treat the stage as a fixed space. He paces it briefly, building tension, before breaking that invisible line and launching straight into the crowd, disappearing into the audience, reappearing somewhere else, then diving back in again, turning the entire room into an extension of the performance. This is wild! The rest of the band is on full steam, supporting Adamah’s movements over the floor and mirroring that same restless energy. It’s by far the best gig of the festival, and when it’s over I just had to share a few words with my fellow Swedes, book them for an interview in the near future, and buy a t-shirt because the one I was wearing wasn’t dry anymore.
And that was the end of the night. Total energy loss and not even attempting to bike the four kilometers to my flat; I took the u-bahn.
*****
It was already the last day of the festival, and that striking feeling that always pops up the last arrived with the morning coffee: I’m looking forward to getting some sleep tomorrow. Trying to balance networking, interviews, gig coverage, and meeting up with friends means no sleep at all, and in the end, you have to pay the price for it. Reeperbahn Festival is by far the most fun and the most happening in the festival scene for us every year, but it also drains you of energy. This was my ten-year anniversary at RBF, and my tenth straight Reeperbahn Festival, and it happens that I want to experience the festival the same way I did my first year in 2016, and just enjoy the shows while writing my review (for another magazine back then). But that was then, before Messed!Up turned into something too big to handle and with a huge network of friends to smooch.
Last night’s late ending at Molotow, plus a few beers too many, also meant longer recovery this morning, and some of the planned smaller shows had to be cancelled before I finally set off for Swedish duo The Guilt playing a non-festival gig at FC St Pauli Fanshop on Reeperbahn. However, it was overcrowded, and I could barely see more than frontwoman Emma’s forehead, so I left to rest up in the press area for an hour (and fell asleep on their couch). And that’s how to tackle a four-day no-sleep festival.
You drag yourself up despite your body’s resistance to leaving the bed and have three quick cups of coffee. There’s a reminder on your desk that you’re supposed to be on again today. Interviews at noon. A showcase at two. Another one at four. A band you actually care about at seven. Networking drinks at nine. Then everything dissolves into a blur of stages, lights, handshakes, half-heard conversations, and promises to “definitely catch up properly later.” By night, your body starts negotiating with you. Your eyes burn and your thoughts come slower, like they’re moving through syrup. You miss words in conversations and laugh half a second too late and write notes that barely make sense when you read them back. You’re so tired it feels unreal when you have that final interview at 2.30 am, and still, you wouldn’t trade it for anything. There is a love for the work that is best explained through the hardships you expose yourself to, and that’s the love for the music and the craft that surrounds it.
An hour later, one of our photographers woke me up with an injection of Club Mate, and I was ready to wrap up the last day at Molotow. While our photographers set off for other venues, I walked down the street to Molotow, and it was hot outside – but nothing compared to the sauna inside Molotow.
Molotow was full, and I barely made it in before the gates closed, and since the main club was full, the last people that entered before it closed, including me, were sent to the basement and Top Ten Bar, where they had smaller shows – and saw a brilliant set by an artist I’ve never seen or heard about before, called Naya Mö. That’s what showcase festivals are about – running into bands you never heard of and finding a new favorite artist.
Luckily, the rest of the team was able to sneak in after the show upstairs had ended, just in time for the first of the last three shows we were covering this year. Aussie band The Buoys slipped onto the stage, a band I’ve followed since they released their brilliant single “Subject A” last year. And live, it was even better! From the first chord, the set leans into a kind of scrappy, full-throttle energy that feels rooted in classic garage rock but sharpened with a modern indie edge. Up front, lead singer Zoe is a magnetic presence, her voice soaring over a crowd whose eyes couldn’t help but follow her as she sprinted about the stage. But The Buoys are hardly a one-woman show. They are a cohesive beast, a sonic avalanche. At one point, as Zoe and Hilary fell to their knees, shredding guitars in each other’s faces, and Tess pounded the drums with power and precision, it felt like the whole crowd was riding a surging wave. You can’t ask for a better start to the night.
Because of this amazing start, let’s skip any review of Laura-Mary Carter’s solo gig, although I had looked forward to it for a long time. She’s brilliant in Blood Red Shoes, but this didn’t work out in front of people who wanted nothing but a massive party. Instead, we hung out in the bar and had a few beers while waiting for the last act of the festival, Coach Party.
Fittingly, the band admitted they were so tired after playing several shows and meeting up with industry people that they just wanted to get the gig done and then fly back to the Isle of Wight. And then they set off at a furious pace.
Frontwoman Jess Eastwood anchors the storm with an intense presence in the delivery. Her vocals ride the noise, adding to that slightly unhinged atmosphere that defines the show. With heavy rock songs like “All My Friends”, “All I Wanna Do Is Hate”, and the brilliant “Parasite” in which Jess belts out the screeches while you’re waiting for guitarist Steph Norris to go A Place To Bury Strangers and crash the guitar against the monitor (but she doesn’t because she knows the value of music gear – sorry Olli). If we were tired when it started, we were smashed and breathless when it ended. There was no more energy to find in my body; maybe the beers made it worse. You know the feeling when you’re so tired that you’re dizzy and feel warm and don’t know how to make the sounds coming out of your mouth to pronounce words – that’s the feeling I had.
It was a beaten Messed!Up team that left Molotow at 2 am to go home and try to catch some sleep. I cheated on the way home again, biked to u-bahn stations, and then brought the bike onto the u-bahn to get me home safe. That’s it, I will never work this hard again. Well, not until next year because I tend to forget.
Thanks for another amazing Reeperbahn Festival! See you for the eleventh time next year!
