I am in an altered state. I came back from a festival two days ago and though I feel different in and of myself, the fabric of life feels different too. It’s a state of transition, one that’s slow and sluggish yet visceral all at once. This is post-festival syndrome, or as I shall refer to it throughout this newsletter, PFS.
At its simplest, PFS is a very specific form of tiredness. It’s the consequence of several days of inevitably disturbed sleep, in which your bones and brain are clogged by sleep debt. Sometimes it’s the blowback that comes with hitting the pillow as the sky is lightening, or tossing and turning as you adjust to a new sleeping environment. Sleep becomes another bodily inconvenience at a festival, much like thirst or the need for the loo, as sleeping in a tent is inevitably a mission that is best achieved by exerting yourself to the point where you black out as soon as your body becomes horizontal.
On top of that, festivals are wearing because you’re standing for long periods of time, having longer days than normal, or dealing with the intensity of the elements. This year I’ve experienced three festivals in a heatwave and camping festivals tend to be the worst, least of all because sleeping beyond 8am is impossible when the sun hits the tent and it feels like it’s on fire.
Then, there’s the component of mental fatigue. This is likely heightened for me as I’m often working at festivals, so there is less of a chance to just exhale and let my brain go soft for a few days. Nonethelesss, there are other factors at play that weigh heavy on your mental state, especially for neurodivergent folk: overstimulation, for one, and a deep level of socialising particularly when a festival brings people’s walls down and there might be a lot of interaction with strangers involved. On that note, those with chronic illness are bound to experience a deeper state of PFS than I might too.
PFS is like having your body filled with fog. It’s a grey, heavy, semi-delirious state that is repaired with time, deep sleep and a reduction in mental demand. Big conversations or knotty problems to solve should be pushed as far away as possible. At the same time, there’s far more at play than just feeling like a husk – PFS is an interplay of both the physical and the emotional.
Emotionally speaking, PFS involves a slow, reluctant drift back down to earth. Back at home, among familiar roads and everyday objects, life now feels crushingly mundane. You remember civilization doesn’t sparkle like a festival ground does, neither is it filled with constant noise and chatter or that fume-like boozy spirit that lingers in the air whether you have a pint in your hand or not. Reality returns, along with grim things like responsibilities, depressing news headlines and all the personal troubles left behind at home. The festival bubble pops and this is what’s left. Worst of all is the reminder that you have to wait a year before experiencing it again.
That grimness, however, is one side of a coin. Somewhere in the background of the fog is a little afterglow, as the freshly made memories solidify and turn into gold in your mind. You remember the distant shadow of the joy of being lost in the moment, singing along and hugging your friends, or even the smaller details like the conversations had over a late night pint at the campsite. Maybe you’ve learned something about yourself along the way when you’re out of your usual environment. Maybe it was getting to hear that song live. Moshing, crowdsurfing, crying, emoting in other forms. You experienced some of the greatest joy life has to offer. You’re reminded that live music is one of the greatest things we have. That’s something to prize.
The PFS subsides once you’ve eaten, showered and slept, but the memories stick around longer. To half-quote the Cookie Monster, you aren’t sad because festival is over, but you smile because festival happened.
IN THE NEWS THIS WEEK
The UK government's 'turning up' the music industry
After the Tory government treated the arts with near-contempt ('retrain in cyber', anyone?), it always pleases me when the people at the top take greater measures to help culture in this country. The UK government has published a plan for its measures to support the music industry, some of which are existing government schemes streamlined into one cohesive plan, with some new additions thrown in.
The headline developments are:
- £45 million to support over 2,000 grassroots music projects over three years - an addition of £15 million Arts Council England
- £12.5 million to help put recording studios in public libraries (fun fact - Ed Sheeran's charity has been involved with this).
- £10 million for creative mentoring for care experienced young people
- Cutting red tape so music festivals can obtain longer licences to help secure their futures, as well as relaxing licensing restrictions.
Sean Adams
AI labelling on streaming services might finally happen
When I did our predictions for 2026, I suggested there would be greater transparency around the use, or even the lackthereof, in AI in music. As reported by the Wall Street Journal, there now seems to have been movement on this, as a series of organisations including the RIAA, IFPI, Recording Academy, SAG-AFTRA, the Human Artistry Campaign, and the American Association of Independent Music, are all working to get AI-generated music labelled on streaming services.
The RIAA-led group is proposing two potential tags be used: AI-generated for entirely AI-created songs that started with a text prompt and AI-assisted for tracks made by humans but with AI involvement.
According to a Deezer/Ipsos study of 9,000 listeners, 80 per cent wanted fully AI tracks clearly labeled.
Emma Wilkes
Read the Government's full response to the Fan-Led Review of Music
There's one more quick thing before we wrap up. On the podcast in recent weeks Sean's gone into considerable detail about the Fan-Led Review of Music. And now, finally, the Government has now responded to its findings - check out the full document here.
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Emma Wilkes
Emma Wilkes
Emma Wilkes