Wonderfestiwall: Bornholm's unique festival experience

There's a special calmness in beginning a festival journey of sitting in a car with one's friends, hearing music, tossing the bag in the trunk and just having a good time. The ferry is the ferry. Here you always meet old school friends, dogs (because there are always more dogs than people on board), and the looks of the expectant festival goers are part of the prelude. One hour and 20 minutes later you are on the island of Neske Island — Bornholm welcomes you in full sun.

We live in Nordlandet, about 3.3 km from the festival. Or as one Bornholmer calls it: a five-minute walk. Bornholmere's relationship to distance is a study in itself. Had Frodo Baggins been from Bornholm, he would have estimated the trip to Mount Doomsday as “a weekend trip”. In reality, our walk took barely 50 minutes and I had already regretted the leather trousers. But can one go to a D-A-D concert without leather pants? The answer is no.

On the way, we peered into what in the US would be called a “tailgate area”: hundreds of young people who had created their own festival in the car park. SOUNDBOXES, beer bong, bordershop beer. A whole microworld where the party was already underway. Had I been closer to 20 than 40, I would have gone straight aboard.

At the festival itself, the first impression is not so different from everywhere else -- stalls, long tables, plastic glasses. But then you turn around and see Hammershus, erected as an erect limb beyond Bornholm, and you are struck again by how absurdly beautiful it really is. It always takes a few minutes to get healthy. The food isn't the festival's strongest card -- it's a bit reminiscent of a swimming neck canteen in the starting 90s. But after all, there is also something charming about eating french fries that could have been fried by your elementary school teacher.. Last year we ate at the volunteer restaurant in the square, and we probably should have done that again.

Especially the volunteers. Bornholm has something special here. If Russia ever attacks Denmark, pray that it is the Bornholm volunteers who lead the defence. We've all seen the tired high school students at Roskilde regretting their shifts. Imagine the exact opposite. Whether it's the bartender, the mug-collector or the woman with the blanket over her legs guiding you to the restroom, you'll be greeted with a smile. They're calm, they're comfortable, and they know we're all stupid and drunk -- just like their own children. There's a pride in volunteerism here, and it's contagious.

And then to the music. Wonderfestiwall's program is similar on paper to many other Danish festivals — D-A-D, Tessa, Blown, Kind mod Kind, Uro, Magtens Korridorer. But they've also sprinkled in international names like Anastacia and Astrid S. And although Anastacia didn't deliver anything special, it's still a signal: the festival wants more than just “the usual.” It elevates the lineup and gives a unique touch that makes Wonderfestiwall different from the copied Danish festival posters.

Everything is enhanced by Bornholm's hospitality. The artists stick around, they're not just there for a quick gig. You feel it at the concerts: looser, wilder, more present.

Sound is another matter. On the main stage, people were standing with their hands to their ears. I have molded ear plugs myself, and yet I had sore ears several days after. Yes, we get it -- the plant is huge. But volume and sound quality are two different things. That must sound right.

In return, there was the Red Bull scene. A party without a filter. The music there was so proletarian that it almost became art. Anne Linnet mixed with Nik & Jay in mashups that have never left the island. No ironic distance, just party. It's beautiful, and it was said that in the end the scene almost broke down under the pressure. It makes perfect sense.

Later in the evening we passed “Sletten” — Wonder's answer to Love at Smukfest. Six beers for 150 kr. (which in festival parlance is almost free), DJ setups with both Copenhagen and local names, but unfortunately also a guard corps that almost surpassed the guests in number. When the ratio is 5 guards to 1 guest, it's hard to let go of one's festival virginity. I saw an older guard pour a 2cl Flugel-shot out in front of a bunch of kids and then pull the kid aside to a shitball. It seemed both petty and unnecessary. A little less supervision, a little more festival freedom would dress the place.

And then there's the special: Wonderfestiwall is very “selfmade.” You can feel Bornholm's entrepreneurial spirit throughout — from the local volunteers to the way the festival fires itself. They have been adept at building a narrative, and people like Daniel Mühlendorph (founder of Wonder), who pull the festival forward in the media, are a prime example of how much Bornholmers love to back their own projects.

Still, it's hard not to love Wonderfestiwall. There are no other festivals in Denmark where you can leave a computer bag, come back 20 minutes later, and find a group of young people who have looked after it. The atmosphere is calm, safe, but at the same time wild and chaotic in the beautiful way festivals should be. It's convenient, it's fast, and it's Bornholm — and that's enough to make you forget sore ears and sweaty leather pants.

Reflection

Going to Wonderfestiwall feels a bit like cheating the system. It's faster and more convenient than most festivals on the mainland, and the journey itself is part of the experience. The program may look like anything else, but when you stand in the sunset with Hammershus in the back, it's clear that this is something special. A festival where chaos and reassurance live side by side, carried by volunteers and a local pride that makes all the difference. If not for the deafening sound, it was a six.