- "Helsinki is so hip that it hurts!" This line, emblazoned on a stall selling steaming plates of pearl barley risotto, says a lot about Flow Festival. From the 38 top-notch food and drink vendors to the on-point lineup for the modern music fan, it's hard to imagine a more civilized gathering of this kind in the world. Across three days, more than 70,000 punters wandered casually through the grounds of Suvilhati, a former power plant that's now a renowned hub for cultural events. One girl I spoke to, from London, described Flow more as a "series of concerts" than a festival. But don't let the early curfews and trendy hashtags fool you—Flow also offers rave experiences as sweaty as any you've had this summer.
In 2017, these mostly went down in Voimala, Flow's pitch-black techno stage, and Resident Advisor Front Yard, a new leafy area with excellent sound that had a block party feel about it. When a ferocious storm tore through the site on Saturday evening, these two stages were the least affected, filling up with soggy punters while technicians worked tirelessly to get Zalando Black Tent and the Bright Balloon 360° Stage back up and running. (The latter, one of the most striking arenas I've come across, remained shut for the rest of the night.) When Zalando eventually did reopen, to the sounds of Bicep, the vibe inside was like a football match.
The other story of Saturday night ended much less positively. After her set at the RA stage, Russian artist Inga Mauer was allegedly physically assaulted by members of Flow's security team before being arrested. The news was reported far and wide and the festival's founders were quick to issue a sympathetic and strongly-worded statement. Needless to say this kind of thing is shocking and totally unacceptable. Let's hope everything is done to stamp it out.
Flow's compact site hosted ten stages of varying sizes and atmospheres. Sound bleed was a minor issue every now and then, but generally the layout meant you could switch things up at the drop of a hat. At Voimala but need a break from techno? Within 15 steps you could be front-row at the Main Stage, watching headliners like The xx or Frank Ocean. At the giant Lapin Kulta Red Arena, it wasn't even necessary to go inside—powerful speakers blasted the sound out so you could sip a beer and relax while taking in Aphex Twin or Moderat. With little touches likes these, Flow proved that killer musical moments needn't come at the cost of comfort and convenience.
Here are five key performances from across the weekend.
Inga Mauer
Inga Mauer's Saturday night ended horribly, but it didn't start that way. Delayed 15 minutes because of the storm, she bounded into the snug shipping container booth at Resident Advisor Front Yard, seemingly unfazed by the streams of Jon Hopkins fans leaving the dance floor. After a couple of spacey openers, she slotted into a restless techno groove, adroitly stitching together great slugging tracks that were similar in mood—dark, heady, unsettling—yet distinct in texture. Canyon's "Cosmos," a driving tech trance cut with lush pads, gave way nicely to the sinister vocals of Slam's "Setback." More audacious yet, Groof's bleak roller "Frozen" blossomed into Omar-S's "I Wanna Know," perhaps the Detroit artist's most flamboyant bomb. In between mixes, Mauer was headbanging and hugging the monitors one minute, the next striking karate poses at the crowd. She was letting loose to fantastic music, and having a whale of a time.
Bicep
A man, pressing against the waist-high stretch of red and white tape, raised one hand in a raver's salute and rocked along to the distant clatter of Bicep's soundcheck. He was either drunk or pretending, because there was little to be excited about. The storm had caused severe delays at Zalando Black Tent, forcing hundreds of punters to huddle on the fringes while men in cherry-pickers tended to the lights swinging dangerously above. Spirits should have been low—it was still raining—but instead the hordes erupted into cheers at every fresh development, spurred on by the sight of Andy Ferguson and Matt McBriar setting up onstage. At 10:20 PM, 50 minutes later than planned, the cordon broke and everyone poured in. The stage was packed within seconds.
After nearly an hour's wait, Bicep's live show was just what the mood called for. The music was catchy and danceable, with rumbling grooves and the odd break underpinning a succession of darting melodies. For the first time all weekend, the atmosphere felt loose and loved-up: one girl, with her back to stage, spent the entire set staring longingly into her boyfriend's eyes, while another danced between two friends, blissfully rubbing their shaved heads. Some of the tracks, presumably off the new album, pushed the trancey thing too far, and they could probably lose the visuals of a single white dove soaring against a black sky. But overall, powered by hits like "Just," "You" and "Glue," it's a fun festival act, a quick fix for when you feel your energies waning.
Lil Tony
You can often determine a DJ's skill level within seconds of watching them on the decks. In the early stages of his closing set at Resident Advisor Front Yard on Saturday, Lil Tony, who's one of the founders of Flow, executed one spotless transition after another, working at a pace through big, synthy tracks like Simple Symmetry's "Voodoo Your EX" and Abfahrt's 1989 hit, "Alone (It's Me)." No sooner would a record leave the mix than he'd start cueing up the next one, pausing only to glance at the crowd and enjoy the occasional drop. I'm usually not the biggest fan of this dreamy electronic sound, but he had a way of taking solid cuts and reframing them so they shone. The "Revenge Rework Dixon Beat Edit" of Auntie Flo's "Waiting For A (Woman)," with its yearning chant and sweeping pads, was one example. (This didn't extend to everything, though: an edit of Chris Rea's "Josephine" was a touch too soppy, even for a final track.) As if in a rush, Rantanen sprinted through the closing moments, blending at breakneck speed between tracks with daring rhythms, Lorenzo Senni's "Rave Voyeur" among them. Within seconds of the music stopping, a fan approached the barrier beneath the stage. "Tony! Tony!" She called out. But he was already gone.
Jenny Hval
If Bicep's live show in Zalando Black Tent was easy to digest, then Jenny Hval's was the opposite: strange, conceptual and deliberately obtuse. Her voice—soft yet high-pitched, in a style similar to Julia Holter—was only part of the spectacle, with most of the audience drawn to the gangly brunette onstage, who pranced and mucked about with no clear purpose. She lay on her back in a paddling pool with her legs in the air, then cut shapes in a body bag made of flesh-coloured nylon. Every now and then, she'd take a swig of her stubby beer. All the while, techno beats thumped away beneath cosmic synth lines; later, the drums collapsed into softer rhythms, the soundtrack to a second half filled with sobbing and existential musings. "Just because I'm onstage and you're down there doesn't mean I can tell you how to feel," Hval murmured to the crowd. I spotted a few people leaving, though most stuck around, intrigued by the bizarre performance art piece unfolding before them. The show climaxed with Hval fighting to get out of the body bag—a metaphor for discomfort in her own skin?—while the tall girl slapped two bouquets of roses together, their petals showering the stage. Maybe it was the element of surprise, but the whole thing was captivating. "Thanks for staying," Hval said at the end. "I'm impressed."
Frank Ocean
Rain threatened to dampen Sunday night like it had Saturday, but as quickly as the first drops fell, the clouds cleared and a warm summer's eve took hold of Suvilhati. Just before 10 PM, Frank Ocean strolled out into the middle of the crowd and plonked a tape into what looked like a large wardrobe. Out rolled the opening bars of "Solo," from last year's Blonde LP, and Ocean was off, his voice liquid gold. Then, suddenly, silence: he lowered his mic, walked back over to the deck and started the song again.
Ocean's set, the last of a summer-long festival run, was full of quirky moments like these, to the point where it felt more like a rehearsal than a headline performance. The tracklist was decided ad hoc between songs, there were delays in setting up the string ensemble and he messed up his keyboard solo. It's a risky schtick, and in less charismatic hands, or with worse sound, it might not have been as magical. But the errors, like the live camcorder visuals and spectacular renditions of "Thinkin Bout You," "Ivy" and "Nights," only bonded the audience closer to him. For "Pyramids," the set's highlight, Ocean danced in the centre of a purple tower of lasers, while lovers held each other tightly in the breeze. A moment, I imagine, as atmospheric as any in Flow's history.
Photo credits /
Jussi Hellsten - Lead
George Nebieridze - Inga Mauer, Lil Tony
Anni Hartikainen - Bicep
Konstantin Kondrukhov - Jenny Hval
Bicep A man, pressing against the waist-high stretch of red and white tape, raised one hand in a raver's salute and rocked along to the distant clatter of Bicep's soundcheck. He was either drunk or pretending, because there was little to be excited about. The storm had caused severe delays at Zalando Black Tent, forcing hundreds of punters to huddle on the fringes while men in cherry-pickers tended to the lights swinging dangerously above. Spirits should have been low—it was still raining—but instead the hordes erupted into cheers at every fresh development, spurred on by the sight of Andy Ferguson and Matt McBriar setting up onstage. At 10:20 PM, 50 minutes later than planned, the cordon broke and everyone poured in. The stage was packed within seconds. After nearly an hour's wait, Bicep's live show was just what the mood called for. The music was catchy and danceable, with rumbling grooves and the odd break underpinning a succession of darting melodies. For the first time all weekend, the atmosphere felt loose and loved-up: one girl, with her back to stage, spent the entire set staring longingly into her boyfriend's eyes, while another danced between two friends, blissfully rubbing their shaved heads. Some of the tracks, presumably off the new album, pushed the trancey thing too far, and they could probably lose the visuals of a single white dove soaring against a black sky. But overall, powered by hits like "Just," "You" and "Glue," it's a fun festival act, a quick fix for when you feel your energies waning.
Lil Tony You can often determine a DJ's skill level within seconds of watching them on the decks. In the early stages of his closing set at Resident Advisor Front Yard on Saturday, Lil Tony, who's one of the founders of Flow, executed one spotless transition after another, working at a pace through big, synthy tracks like Simple Symmetry's "Voodoo Your EX" and Abfahrt's 1989 hit, "Alone (It's Me)." No sooner would a record leave the mix than he'd start cueing up the next one, pausing only to glance at the crowd and enjoy the occasional drop. I'm usually not the biggest fan of this dreamy electronic sound, but he had a way of taking solid cuts and reframing them so they shone. The "Revenge Rework Dixon Beat Edit" of Auntie Flo's "Waiting For A (Woman)," with its yearning chant and sweeping pads, was one example. (This didn't extend to everything, though: an edit of Chris Rea's "Josephine" was a touch too soppy, even for a final track.) As if in a rush, Rantanen sprinted through the closing moments, blending at breakneck speed between tracks with daring rhythms, Lorenzo Senni's "Rave Voyeur" among them. Within seconds of the music stopping, a fan approached the barrier beneath the stage. "Tony! Tony!" She called out. But he was already gone.
Jenny Hval If Bicep's live show in Zalando Black Tent was easy to digest, then Jenny Hval's was the opposite: strange, conceptual and deliberately obtuse. Her voice—soft yet high-pitched, in a style similar to Julia Holter—was only part of the spectacle, with most of the audience drawn to the gangly brunette onstage, who pranced and mucked about with no clear purpose. She lay on her back in a paddling pool with her legs in the air, then cut shapes in a body bag made of flesh-coloured nylon. Every now and then, she'd take a swig of her stubby beer. All the while, techno beats thumped away beneath cosmic synth lines; later, the drums collapsed into softer rhythms, the soundtrack to a second half filled with sobbing and existential musings. "Just because I'm onstage and you're down there doesn't mean I can tell you how to feel," Hval murmured to the crowd. I spotted a few people leaving, though most stuck around, intrigued by the bizarre performance art piece unfolding before them. The show climaxed with Hval fighting to get out of the body bag—a metaphor for discomfort in her own skin?—while the tall girl slapped two bouquets of roses together, their petals showering the stage. Maybe it was the element of surprise, but the whole thing was captivating. "Thanks for staying," Hval said at the end. "I'm impressed."
Frank Ocean Rain threatened to dampen Sunday night like it had Saturday, but as quickly as the first drops fell, the clouds cleared and a warm summer's eve took hold of Suvilhati. Just before 10 PM, Frank Ocean strolled out into the middle of the crowd and plonked a tape into what looked like a large wardrobe. Out rolled the opening bars of "Solo," from last year's Blonde LP, and Ocean was off, his voice liquid gold. Then, suddenly, silence: he lowered his mic, walked back over to the deck and started the song again. Ocean's set, the last of a summer-long festival run, was full of quirky moments like these, to the point where it felt more like a rehearsal than a headline performance. The tracklist was decided ad hoc between songs, there were delays in setting up the string ensemble and he messed up his keyboard solo. It's a risky schtick, and in less charismatic hands, or with worse sound, it might not have been as magical. But the errors, like the live camcorder visuals and spectacular renditions of "Thinkin Bout You," "Ivy" and "Nights," only bonded the audience closer to him. For "Pyramids," the set's highlight, Ocean danced in the centre of a purple tower of lasers, while lovers held each other tightly in the breeze. A moment, I imagine, as atmospheric as any in Flow's history. Photo credits / Jussi Hellsten - Lead George Nebieridze - Inga Mauer, Lil Tony Anni Hartikainen - Bicep Konstantin Kondrukhov - Jenny Hval