Grauzone Festival 2026 I Den Haag, NL I February 6-8, 2026
The word “festival” doesn’t even begin to encompass the full Grauzone experience. It was rather a 3-day celebration of alternative, queer, punk culture, and the spirit of community; using music, art, and film as modes of fostering connection and introspection, rather than something to only be witnessed or consumed. The vast program offerings surpassed any similar event I’ve attended, while feeling remarkably cohesive; each element building on the others to create a quite comprehensive tour of what the alternative community has to offer. Sitting on the train back to Berlin, I was aware of a certain glow that wasn’t there before; a total sense of artistic renewal.
Friday, February 6th: Berlin-Based Dead Finks and Graunacht
There was a buzz of activity outside, mostly clad in black, leather, spikes, and cigarette smoke. Just the kind of commotion I like.
“Next stop, PAARD- Music venue.”
I stepped out of the tram into the street of Den Haag, immediately spotting the Grauzone banner in blue, black, and grey draped down the facade of the PAARD building. There was a buzz of activity outside, mostly clad in black, leather, spikes, and cigarette smoke. Just the kind of commotion I like. Inside the PAARD main venue, I was met with friendly faces and staff ready to assist with any questions or difficulties. It took mere minutes for my entire group to get our wristbands. PAARD was drenched in black with a small bar offering drinks by the locker area (great for storage during late-night DJ sets). I could hear faint music coming from the main and small stage underneath the chatter of laughter and shared conversations. Tempting as it was to immediately join the festivities with a glass of red wine, my goal was elsewhere: I quickly headed to De Zwarte Ruiter, a small punk/rock bar around a 5-minute walk away, to see the first band on my “must-see” list: the Berlin-based band Dead Finks.
Dead Finks
“This guitar is definitely not in tune. But it’s in tune enough.”
-Joseph Thomas (Dead Finks)
De Zwarte Ruiter has all the good qualities of a small, alternative bar, and reminded me of similar ones I frequent in Berlin. It quickly became my preferred haunt during the festival, which says a lot given the wide selection of Grauzone venues. The bar’s wood grain and dim lighting felt like a soft, cozy place to land with friends; think Fitscher’s Vogel but more compact and with a stage, for those who know the Berlin bar. Drinks were reasonably priced, service fast, and a small group was already gathering in front of the stage at the far end of the bar. I grabbed my glass of champagne and hurried to get a good spot in the blue-lit penguin huddle.
I’m no stranger to the post-punk sound of Dead Finks (think Sonic Youth or Wire), as I’ve seen them live a handful of times in the Berlin underground circuit, but the anticipation somehow felt different seeing them live for the first time outside of their base. Around 10 minutes before the show was set to begin, Joseph Thomas (the singer and guitarist of Dead Finks), came onto the stage and looked around at the crowd, asking in a New Zealand accent: “What are all yous doing here? What time is it? You’re not supposed to be here yet!” The crowd laughed, responded with the time, and suddenly the tone was set for what was about to be an intimate, interactive, and charged gig.
“The stage performance [of Dead Finks] wasn’t flashy, but it was honest; authentic, raw.”
As the guitar and bass kicked in, a few people from the crowd gently moved towards the front of the stage to dance; one man in particular was already bobbing his head to the rhythm, quickly breaking out into full body rockin’ out mode. Something I, and I assume many others, love to see when people feel comfortable at these more intimate gigs. Just getting lost in the experience. The sound mixing was some of the best I’ve ever heard in a venue of this size, clear and well-balanced, giving all the instruments and voice their own space to occupy.
The stage performance wasn’t flashy, but it was honest; authentic, raw. Thomas’ raspy, dark vocal performance was even more captivating than I’ve heard before, perfectly bouncing off the instrumentals and typically syncopated with the bass. The light show perfectly reflected the mood of songs, red when aggressive sounding, blue when more melodic, with panning spotlights contrasting the main flood color, creating a meld of colors. My personal highlight was the performance of one of their most popular songs, “Baby,” arguably one of their most emotionally raw sounding songs in the chorus. The room was charged and turned into a writhing mass, the drums carrying much of the desperate, agitated tone.
“(My Human) Extinction,” a crowd favorite from what I saw here and at previous gigs, was the most danceable tune of the set and got us all moving. Somewhere in the middle of the gig Thomas spoke again after fiddling a bit with his guitar saying, “This guitar is definitely not in tune. But it’s in tune enough.” I laughed quite hysterically at that, because it is just so underground music coded and somehow entirely fitting. He was right though, it was indeed in tune enough.
The crowd slowly dispersed, some going to the bar to get a second (..or third, or fourth) round, some leaving to go to other shows. I stuck around a while chatting with people; energized by the performance. After half a bottle of champagne worth of chatting, I realized it had gotten quite late and stumbled off to my friend at PAARD sometime around midnight.
GrauNacht (Helena Hauff, Lume, and Mila Milaan)
“I became acutely aware at that moment that queerness was in fact genuinely integrated into the Grauzone festival program and ethos, not performatively in the slightest.”
I heard the commotion before I saw it; thumping electro beats and a suspiciously empty foyer. I quickly sauntered into the main stage of PAARD and was hit with a wall of neon lights. Ah— the GrauNacht late-night program! I had almost forgotten it in the midst of my festival excitement. I met with a friend and chatted for a bit on the upper balcony before heading down to the main floor, where I had what I can only describe as a Baudelairean moment of “shock.” Two performers climbed onto the DJ table in the middle of the room, unabashedly queer in presentation. The first one to catch my eye, Lume, was shirtless, wearing a corset and garter-style stockings, with their face skillfully painted white, dramatic eye makeup, and curls fanning softly around their face. The other, Mila Milaan, wore a sleek black bodysuit and thigh-high stockings; a black veil obscuring her face and overlaying bleach-blonde hair.
“They moved to the electro beats almost as if pulled by invisible musical strings, sometimes interacting, and sometimes seemingly lost in complementary worlds entirely of their own.”
Seeing queerness represented and celebrated, being quite literally the centerpiece of Helena Hauff‘s DJ set (one of the most celebrated electronic musicians in Germany), in such a natural, casual way with no introduction or justification necessary made my own queer little heart sing. Of course, it is how it should be, but it isn’t always so. I became acutely aware at that moment that queerness was in fact genuinely integrated into the Grauzone festival program and ethos, not performatively in the slightest. I leaned down to my friend after a beat and said “Wow, this is quite nice! Please take a video of this, I must write about it later!” (I was too short to film properly…).
The performance was entrancing, entertaining, and dare I say inspiring for my own aesthetics and bodily expression to this day. They moved to the electro beats almost as if pulled by invisible musical strings, sometimes interacting, and sometimes seemingly lost in complementary worlds entirely of their own. This was the absolute highlight of the GrauNacht program for me. We danced well into the morning hours and arrived back to our accommodation exhausted, but thrumming with excitement for Day 2.
Saturday, February 7th: Stella Rose and Graukunst
“Day 2 [of Grauzone Festival] started with me wearing leather pants inside a Lutheran Church — yes, you read that correctly.”
Day 2 started with me wearing leather pants inside a Lutheran Church (Lutherse Kirk) — yes, you read that correctly. It was lit in shadows of blue and purple, four chandeliers with vined, gothic metalwork winding around lightbulbs hung above sidelined pews. The stage at the far end of the chapel was crowned by spotlights and organ pipes, small cherubs and other figures sitting atop. I hurried to the front row, awaiting my first foray into the Graukunst: Body / Machine side of the festival via a performance of “Hreyfð” (“She is moved”) by Sól Ey; an Icelandic transdisciplinary artist, focusing on art that unites the body, sounds, lights, and other sensory input, often inviting participation and immersive experiences.
Hreyfð by Sól Ey
“The sensors reacted to her physical movements, translating corporeal expressions into abstract sound. It was somehow organic, yet precise; abstract, yet grounded. “
However, I heard a high-pitched electronic noise behind me and turned to see that the performer had at some point entered the room and was now surrounded by onlookers. She wore a minimalistic black outfit with her instrument strapped around her; flashing lights tracing lines from mid-back to sternum, meeting a circular sensor. The same sensor was mirrored on her knee, and various wires dangling around her pelvis. What commenced was an experience which I still haven’t fully consolidated in my mind but fits the Graukunst theme perfectly. The sensors reacted to her physical movements, translating corporeal expressions into abstract sound. It was somehow organic, yet precise; abstract, yet grounded. The climax of the performance had cutting, sharp electronic noises building and piling on each other, corresponding to her somewhat jerky movements in perfect synchronicity.
At the end of the performance, she simply walked out of the church. No conclusion, no explanation; just leaving the audience to digest the experience themselves and draw their own conclusions. Was it a music performance we just saw, despite there being no typical instrument? Or rather a dance? Something else entirely? … perhaps fitting for the contemplative mode of a church.
Stella Rose
“The interactions I saw between performer, staff, and attendees consistently showed that Grauzone fosters an environment of mutual respect for everyone involved.”
The next performance on my “must-see” list, Stella Rose, took place at the PAARD small stage shortly after. Hailing from the underground scene of New York, Stella Rose combines visceral, expressive lyricism with atmospheric instruments and driving beats; drawing influence from figures such as David Bowie and Patti Smith (also being the daughter of the well-celebrated frontman of Depeche Mode, Dave Gahan). When arriving 15 minutes early to the performance space I was shocked to already see the space almost fully packed. Snaking through the crowd, I found a position with a vantage point in between squished shoulders and heads. Before then, I was quite unfamiliar with the full musical scope of Stella Rose, other than the basic information describing their sound as “Dark Pop” and a few quick listens to their most recent EP Hollybaby. My interest was piqued enough to see if their musical impact worked with a live stage show. Spoiler alert: It does, devastatingly well.
“[Stella Rose’s] performance of ‘MS. 45’ had my jaw hanging open at the tone of Rose’s vocals. Soft, yet commanding; smooth, yet rough, especially during repetition of the lyrics ‘will trigger my love.'”
The stage flooded with blue and purple light as three musicians entered the stage, all wearing sunglasses and coats that transported me directly into an 80s rock n’ roll fantasy. As the set started, the sound was a bit muddled (not that the crowd seemed to mind). However, Rose gently told the sound person that she needed more vocals, and they worked together in symbiotic harmony until the balance was perfect. It was a beautiful moment of teamwork, handled graciously on both sides, resulting in yet again some of the best live sound mixing I’ve encountered in recent years.
Consistently, the interactions I saw between performer, staff, and attendees showed that Grauzone fosters an environment of mutual respect for everyone involved. I had a similar interaction with a cameraman during the performance, who calmly weaved his way through the crowd to the position beside me, setting up his equipment in a way that didn’t obscure my view, but gave enough room to work; “I’ll only be here for a couple of songs.”
Immediately, I was absolutely entranced by the musicianship on display, and so was much of the crowd. We packed even tighter together, leaving little to no space between audience and stage, some onlookers watching from the doorways. I felt like I couldn’t take my eyes away from the stage. As the band moved through the first songs of the set their sunglasses came off, almost mirroring the escalating intimacy musically and lyrically, fostering a natural growth of crowd-artist connection.
The vocals of Rose were already distinctive in tone and beautifully executed on recording, but live they had a power behind them that simply commanded attention and made me viscerally feel what she sang. Their performance of “MS. 45” had my jaw hanging open at the tone of Rose’s vocals. Soft, yet commanding; smooth, yet rough, especially during repetition of the lyrics “will trigger my love.” Rose interacted heavily with the crowd generally, but especially during this song, leaning down and singing directly to members of the crowd.
During other songs, such as “Beautiful Twentysomethings,” she moved in tandem with the rhythm, almost lost to the music, as heavy strobes punctuated the drum’s energy, driving the intensity of the song. Hats off to the light tech, by the way. The lighting was as masterfully executed as the sound and added a sort of dreamy magnetism. The entire performance was powerful, charged, and a sort of magic that you have to feel rather than describe filled the air. The kind of energy that makes you unable to pull your eyes away; that makes you feel as if you’re watching something exceptional unfold.
Although GrauNacht was again on offer, this day I browsed the Grauzone merch selection in the building next to PAARD and grabbed drinks with friends at a nearby bar (of which there are many around the festival venues). However, a friend of mine who attended the nightly festivities shared a funny anecdote. The lockers for holding personal belongings in PAARD weren’t working properly, so a member of staff had to open them manually for attendees. He, apparently, kept forgetting or needing things inside his locker. Luckily for him, the staff member opened the locker many times without complaint and with good humor; “[Can you please open my locker] just one more time tonight. Last time of the night, I promise (staff member’s name)!”
Sunday, February 8th: Traitrs and Des Demonas
Des Demonas
“The stage show seemed evocative of a group of friends coming together and jamming to process the woes and injustices of the world and its systems — with the audience invited along”
By Sunday I was running on fumes from all the fun I’d been having. I spent much of the early afternoon catching fragments of sets from various artists like Die Spitz, Decits, and a few others. During this, I was fortunate enough to see part of the set of Washington D.C.-based Des Demonas at the PAARD small stage; a band I knew already from their politically-driven, anti-racist, anti-fascist, anti-capitalist lyricism, especially from “The South Will Never Rise Again” from their 2017 self-titled album. Their discography alternates between and often combines funk, afro beats, punk, and blues — making their sound an absolute standout in the sonic portfolio of Grauzone.
When I entered the small stage, it was even more packed than the last time. The energy was a bit different than the other sets I had seen so far; somehow laid-back but simultaneously rowdy. Crowd members stayed in their own little bubbles bobbing their hands and swinging side to side. Perhaps this makes sense given the funky instrumentation backing their spoken-word-like lyrics of political resistance and criticism. “Obsession” was a personal highlight, as the Kenyan-born frontman Jacky “Cougar” Abok brought out a tambourine and played along with the band. The stage show seemed evocative of a group of friends coming together and jamming to process the woes and injustices of the world and its systems — with the audience invited along. This set felt almost more like a community gathering than a performance.
Unfortunately I couldn’t stay for the whole performance, but the set is worth mentioning because it punctuates another important facet of the Grauzone ethos: anti-fascism and political resistance. This was one of the most politically forthcoming bands being showcased. I left the set feeling lighter and energized, despite the rather serious content; almost like Des Demonas had turned political resistance into a party.
Traitrs
“[Shawn Tucker used] intense body expression, punctuating much of what he sang with movements of his hands and arms: sometimes acting out lyrics or reaching out towards the crowd as if grasping in desperation for something none of us could see, but could somehow feel.”
Back again at the PAARD small stage, Canadian cold wave duo Traitrs prepared to take the last live band spot of Grauzone Festival. I was only mildly familiar with their music, but had been drawn to their set based on their strong, dark, moody aesthetics and snippets of songs that reminded me of a darker version of The Cure. Plus, the fact that they had the closing spot had to mean something, right?
I arrived 15 or so minutes early and found the room already half-full. A distorted face painted in shades of grey and black swirling in what seemed to be fog or smoke decorated the backdrop of the stage. The ambient lighting of the room slowly faded, the face-backdrop beginning to almost glow. Over the speakers, a voice cut through the slight chatter of the crowd, the lighting changing to electric blue-purple; one of the few ambient song intros used during the live set.
Although the exact words unfortunately escape me despite extensive note-taking, the voice spoke in a cadence reminiscent of broadcasting of the 70s. The duo entered the stage during the introductory “speech,” synth player Sean-Patrick Nolan on the left and guitarist/singer Shawn Tucker in the center. Both were clad in black, Tucker’s strikingly styled white-blonde hair obscuring most of his face; making observers focus only on his vocal tone, mouth, and body language for communication of emotional tones.
Although such a styling choice seems perhaps arbitrary, there is something about obscuring the singer’s eyes in such an organic way that made me much more attuned to the raw emotions in the lyrics and vocal melodies of Traitrs. Tucker seemed to lean into this with intense body expression, punctuating much of what he sang with movements of his hands and arms: sometimes acting out lyrics or reaching out towards the crowd as if grasping in desperation for something none of us could see, but could somehow feel. Nolan seemed to enact the music viscerally as well, but was more likely to move his entire body in energetic synergy with the instruments, rather than using the theatrical motions of Tucker; they worked in perfect contrast.
“I felt a weight in the room, not something severe, but rather heavy in the sense of having importance; a connecting thread weaving through the crowd based on the four non-negotiable, foundational pillars of the fragility of human existence: love, life, loss, and death.”
“This Sick Kiss” hit me squarely in my emotional core. As atmospheric instruments gently lulled me into the song, a voice cut through. It spoke of not necessarily being afraid of mortality (our own death), but afraid of leaving those we love behind alone. About leaving those that depend on us for safety and support. As someone who is no stranger to the contemplative mode of existentialism and semipermanence of our existence, this struck a chord that snapped my attention to the set and pulled at something tightly wound deep in my chest. I felt a weight in the room, not something severe, but rather heavy in the sense of having importance; a connecting thread weaving through the crowd based on four non-negotiable, foundational pillars of the fragility of human existence: love, life, loss, and death. The earlier bodily enactment of emotions was particularly strong in this piece: my eyes were glued to Tucker and the entire crowd seemed to stop in motion. The atmosphere was almost eulogy-like, marking an isolated moment of transformative energy within the larger set.
As the set ended, I found myself rooted down in my standing spot. My companion leaned down and asked me what I thought about the set. All I could reply was “It’s a lot to process.” I felt like I had been on a long emotional journey, confronted with the lightest and darkest parts of myself. Perhaps that can also be used as a blanket statement for the entirety of the Grauzone Festival — a festival that allows you to tour your own proclivities and perspectives thoroughly and openly. It doesn’t let you simply watch or observe. It finds the parts of you that are still open, and allows experiences to rush in. Which, personally, is the kind of reflective experience I don’t expect from a festival.
Grauzone Festival 2027 (February 12-14, 2027)
I thoroughly enjoyed my experience of Grauzone Festival 2026 and am already looking forward to next year! Clearly, the festival is highly recommended. Want to broaden your horizons, have a deep, reflective experience, or just a good party and good music? Grauzone has something for everyone in those categories and more. Early bird tickets for Grauzone Festival 2027 are online now, and apparently selling fast! I look forward to maybe seeing some of you there next year.
+++BUY TICKETS HERE+++
Grauzone Instagram I Grauzone Facebook I Grauzone Website
All photos by Tara Seymour
0 Comments