Rain, mud, missed buses, going back and forth from Copenhagen to Roskilde on a train.
Let’s grab one more iced latte; otherwise, how the hell are we supposed to stay up until 4 a.m. to catch the last bus home, just to do it all over again tomorrow morning?
Roskilde Festival is Roskilde Festival, there’s no other way around it.
Yet the truth is… Roskilde Festival starts way before Roskilde Festival, if that makes sense. And it does make sense, doesn’t it?
Because while some people dream of extreme wealth, others dream of love.
Meanwhile, someone else’s dream is just to have a job in order not to starve. A stable job. A reliable job. A job.
And Roskilde Festival is here to make dreams come true.
A matter of days is what separates a plain, vast, disparate, monotone field from the glory of the iconic Orange Stage, as well as the entirety of the rest of the infrastructure that, as it comes together, forms what in people’s memories will be remembered as Roskilde Festival.
Behind the cute lights you can see while walking around the site, the laughs that have been laughed at a particularly funny artist’s show, the tears that have been cried at a particularly sad artist’s show, and the jumps that have been jumped at a particularly energetic artist’s show, there’s the sweat from people like Jacob.
Jacob is good with his hands.
Jacob hops from construction job to construction job as needed, without ever finding peace.
The way Roskilde Festival works is that it has a network of volunteers making its world go round.
So Jacob, once a year, volunteers there to build the stages.
And why would he do such a thing for free, you might ask? The math isn’t math-ing here.
Well, the secret here lies in the chance of getting scouted while volunteering, buying a chance at more construction work.
It’s hard work indeed, but Jacob does it anyway, beer after beer, hour after hour – and thanks to him and those around him who worked just as hard, Roskilde Festival seemingly appeared out of nowhere, like magic, in what once was an empty field called Dyrskuepladsen.
Jacob encapsulates all the people who work their asses off every year before Roskilde Festival happens, just so people like us can roam around the festival site carefree for a few days, before going back to routine. Routine. Routine. Routine. Routine. Routine. Routine. Routine. Routine. Routine.
Thank you, Jacob. You’re the reason all this could happen in the first place: the good and the bad.
It’s only thanks to you that I got to smile, looking at that older woman vibing at Doechii’s performance.
It’s only thanks to you that, as it was pouring down rain, that damn Danish middle-aged guy pushed me as I was taking “his spot” under a tree.
It’s only thanks to you that I got to enjoy Bright Eyes, Faye Webster, Magdalena Bay, Beth Gibbons, my friend Lukas puking his soul away on the grass, Deftones, Lucy Dacus, the Festival site’s installation art, Beabadobee, Olivia Rodrigo, and FKA Twigs… still, with my friend Lukas passed out in the “zone out” area…
Poor Lukas. He’s good now, though. Thanks for asking.
It’s only thanks to you that I got to dance in the pouring rain at the Charli XCX show, making the cold I got the next day very much worth it.
Anyway, it was fucking crazy.
