Rest is for the wicked
Once the teams set up the main stage, the city of tents, and all the other temporary facilities, time flies. Before you know it, the DRF camp citizens arrive installing their settlement, and what feels like half a minute later, the gates open already. This is the time of the 16 to 18 hours shifts of labour, and some even don’t really seem to take a break at all. But at some point, we all need sleep.
Newbie Pauliina works at the festival while her boyfriend is on the other side of the fence. “Last night I think, I slept like four hours because my boyfriend was snoring so I couldn’t sleep”, she tells me. “So he came home drunk, and I came home tired, and he passed out, started to snore, and I could not stop it. Then I was just thinking, ‘oh my god’. I was looking at my phone like, I have like five hours to sleep. It’s fine.” Surprisingly enough, she could sleep at all although she said, she was super excited to be there , to do the interview and whatnot. Being excited would be her last thought before falling asleep and her first thought in the morning and not to mention how super exciting the backstage work is.
The rule of adrenalin, caffeine, and autopilot
Adrenalin apparently remains to fuel more-experienced crewmembers no less. Iida gets on sort of an autopilot mode during the festivals. But when she finally makes it to her bed, the adrenalin still rushes in her veins, she tells me. After 18 hours of work, there is too little time to sleep anyway, even less, as she needs a long time to calm down before falling asleep. Then, in the mornings, “in a way, I don’t feel tired anymore”. Meanwhile, the autopilot mode steers her through the basic program: “Oh, what time is it? Do I need to shower? Do I have time to eat?” As she is staying over in the crew house, even before arriving at the festival area, the work may begin as “it also opens up the opportunity to solve the matter in advance.”
There is no autopilot after Ville wakes up, but a basic need of supply: “I think ‘coffee, lots of coffee.’ And then I need to think about what to do first.” Yet Ville is happy. I have seen him extremely tired, which is entirely forgotten the second his action is requested. Unsurprisingly, “Please, sleep, come fast” is usually his last thought, he says before the four to six hours of sleep he usually has.
A voice from the bushes
The lack of sleep compensated by insane levels of endorphins ruling the body chemistry over several days makes them work nearly without a break. Sami says: “So it’s the four or five hours that we get sleep. Even sometimes not even that. It takes a toll.” Aku agrees and explains: “… nowadays I need a bit more sleep, but I can cope with like four hours of sleep. Sleep and come to work, and exit and take a 16-hours shift.“ For the few festival days, this works for Aku but then nowadays he prefers to sleep not on the office floor or couch anymore. With a wink, he and Sami blame it to getting older.
Kimmo is in a luxury situation living only 2 km away, which is next door on a Finnish scale. “Last year, my youngest daughter asked, what is this thing because the music sounds from the bushes”, he tells me laughing. “Yes, I can hear the music from my garden.” Thus, it is understandable that he sleeps at home, which enables him to have approximately seven hours of sleep. “I’m totally black-out”, he comments. “When I’m not here [at the festival], I think something else. I spend that time with my family and like reloading myself.”
Birds of a feather look beyond the rim of the tea cup
Exploring the this-is-not-work paradox
Running any music festival requires a hell lot of hard work, discipline, and organisational talent, not to speak of the financial resources. The DRF makes no exclusion to this rule. Aku explains: “So tomorrow, we are coming here at 1 o’clock and leaving at 3 o’clock in the morning. So it’s a long day.” Only, what is work?
I am not here because of the bands. I am not here because of money or anything. I just want to have the experience. (Pauliina)
I have been asking myself this quite often lately. Others might take occupations on the DRF rather labour, and yet it seems not automatically count as work: “This doesn’t feel like work”, Aku says.” I just ended my summer vacation. This is my first day back at work after my summer vacation. But this doesn’t feel like work when you’re here.” This is a paradox, especially as Aku is performing his regular day job here, only the location is different. Others have overlapping day jobs, such as Iida or Kimmo. Most of the crew would take days off for their DRF occupation. If Tanja was asked to choose between a holiday journey to wherever and her DRF occupation, she would always go for her demanding back office desk shifts.
But what inspires one to undertake this occupation that yet might not be ‘work’? Is it an opportunity to get in contact with the artists? “I take this as an experience”, Pauliina replies. “I am not here because of the bands. I am not here because of money or anything. I just want to have the experience.”
For the love of a smile
What lures people to the other side of the fence is more than experience. Like Pauliina, Aku, Henri, and Sami also began as visitors though their motivation to work on the festival is a different one. “I love when I see people smiling”, Kimmo says briefly, and Ville explains: “I just like, you know, seeing people having fun and enjoying themselves; and I’m proud that I’m a part of the people who can make that happen.”
I’m proud that I’m a part of the people who can make that happen. (Ville)
For Tanja, Sami, and Henri, DRF is not work but essential part of their life. Tanja would not go on a holiday journey abroad. Nevertheless, she loves spending one week with her old friends in her hometown and making the DRF happen. The DRF provides a more than welcome occasion to come home and spend some time with these friends. I have heard that very often and each year again. Then again, the work is not limited to the duration of the festival not even if you include the week before and after. For example, Henri spends time, effort and heartbeat on the DRF pretty much all around the year. He and Sami have become an intimate team planning and managing the festival, pushing the vision behind it, and of course, signing bands. All of this begins for the next year even before the DRF opens its gates for now.
Beyond all that, Sami loves his hometown, and it matters a lot him that the DRF has achieved an economic impact on the area. Then again, he simply loves to see people come and enjoy their time on the DRF and in his hometown. His devotion possibly runs even deeper than that of any other. “Every day when I wake up I don’t think that I need to go to work. But I think that I’m going to live my life.” A little later, he adds: “I’m not here working. This is my life. This is why I love doing this. I love doing everything that I do. And I don’t I don’t see myself working.”
The Family Vibe
Once beyond the rite of passage, it seems you are stuck with tribe. When I ask Iida if she will return to work on the next DRF again, she says: “I always come back here. It’s like looking forward because it has been a nice experience and you feel like part of the group. Because I noticed that a lot of people here have come like for ages and most people I know around here have come here for ages”
This family vibe has become a regular encounter. I quit counting how often I have heard it, but it began right on my first day when I spoke with Henri. He named it a class-reunion-like sensation, and I feel it although I have nothing to do with running the festival. I see why Sami is so very touched when speaking of his crew. Moreover, I feel the urge to explore this family vibe a little deeper.
Then again, it is not an exclusive club but an integrative tribe. “How has the team welcomed you?” I ask Pauliina. “Really well. All of them are super nice. I’m a little bit afraid that if I make any mistakes they are going to be mad at me. But they have not been so far. At least, they have not said it.”
Birds of a feather make the DRF tribe
She has not, as far as I have heard. I asked Tanja to suggest some newbies for this report. My natural candidates seemed limited to veterans with ten-year-plus history in the crew. Yet I wanted to explore how new people experience the crew. Tanja pointed me towards Pauliina and Iida. I recall her excitement for Pauliina, who apparently performed better than you can hope from any newbie.
Pauliina tells about herself: “I’m also a little bit like a perfectionist. So, if anything goes wrong I’m always keeping it in me and I think about it at night. Oh yeah, I’m that kind of person. But the team has been really, really nice.” This newbie turns out not only a self-critic but also a great team player. Pauliina tells me that when she helped Iida earlier they faced a minor sort of accident in a very busy situation. In her day job, she said, she learned not to give up “because nothing good happens if you do that.” Therefore, they kept calm, thus found a pragmatic and quick way to solve the situation adequately. Pauliina finishes her tale: “So, I don’t think that there is anything that can just bring my spirit down.”
Birds of a feather, flock together, they say. Here, the ‘feather’ is being an engaged, pragmatic team players with organisational talent who values the joint cause, is willing to take on responsibility and can look over the rim of the tea cup. Interestingly, the feathers are not all about metal. The love of metal music certainly connects most of the crewmembers, but not all of them: “Well, I don’t really listen to metal music at all. I don’t know any of the bands that we have here”, Iida says.
Sharing the tea cup
The tribe benefits greatly from a small but critical set of features. Natural role models in the tribe nurture a friendly and helpful atmosphere that goes beyond the festival area. Apart from their occupation of the festival area, at least the not-Kotka haven an spot for interaction. Iida tells me: ”Well, most of us working here, we’re all staying in the same house.” Its location is nearby, and it provides breakfast as well as enough space. Iida goes on: “Apart from the chemistry, that is a huge benefit from it, because you get to know each other and that’s helpful for the day. But it also opens up the opportunity to solve the matter in advance.” She points out how beneficial this is, especially for the new team members but also for efficiently dealing with unavoidable issues during the event. “It’s easier to get through the hard times when you have nice people around you that you know and you can vent to, if you need to.”
The tea beyond the rim of the tea cup
Beyond the rim of the tea cup
Bartender Aku is an employee at the corresponding supplier for the DRF. His insights and long-standing experience in both, the festival and his day job are super beneficial for the DRF crew as well as the supplier. The same works in principal for security officer Kimmo or Ville, who is a musician engaged in several bands, too. Furthermore, Iida’s festival occupations triggered the subject of her studies. Pauliina also mentions her day job experience as beneficial on her DRF occupation. The DRF tribe is full of people who merge external experience with their occupation on the festival.
The point here is beyond the practical benefits of the festival to the level of social interaction. In this regard, it makes them all kins(wo)men and facilitates interaction as well as community feeling. It inspires trust and shifts getting to know automatically on a deeper level. You can rely on the other one to know his or her task or to speak the same metaphorical language. Consequently, it is all for the better of their joint baby, the DRF.
Natural role models inspire
This connexion reflects in the countless numbers of friendships that have grown within the DRF tribe in addition to those among the original founders of the festival, of course. It reflects in the homecoming sensation as much as in the “not-working-here” attitude and finds its climax in Sami saying” This is my life. This is why I love doing this. I love doing everything that I do. And I don’t I don’t see myself working.” Such veterans of the tribe also make the previously mentioned role models that you can for example experience in the production office. Time and again, I heard from Tanja that again she needs to remind her very-busy-bee DRF colleague Santeri to eat, so he would eat anything at all during the festival day.
It comes as natural as Ville, or Kimmo, or one others of the tribe, asking me several times over the festival day, if I needed something. This is in no way an empty ‘how-do-you-do’ phrase but a genuine taking care of each other. If in doubt, it marks the members of the DRF tribe.
On a professional level, it reflects in a careful management of the needs of the tribe. One result is joint accommodation. Then again, this is essential, as the tribe’s devotion to their festival seems to know no limits, although age takes its toll. “I’m older now so I want to go home and sleep”, says Aku. “I usually sleep on the office couch or floor. But few years now I want to go home and sleep.”
Excursion: About the tradition of Talkoot
The tale of how Ville entered the DRF crew hints to another important motif. He came to the DRF for the first time to play gigs. Then, “I think, someone just asked for a hand to a festival. ‘Will you come?’ – ‘Yeah, of course, I will.’ I And here am”, he says, smiling as happy as can be. All this happened 13 or 14 years ago.
At this point it is perhaps interesting to learn about a Finnish tradition of talkoot. Literally, it translates to volunteer work, but it is also a tradition. If there is a bigger piece of work to be done, such as a larger gardening project or some renovation or whatnot, you will ask your friends, family and neighbours, coworkers and acquaintances to come to help working. People will come and get it done. Sitting together after-work, which might include catering and sauna, is rather an acknowledgement than a virtual payment. And when your next (wo)man asks, you will go and help, too, of course. It is natural to help, and this call will only come if it really is required. Then, it is not work as in paid work but part of the community spirit. Similar traditions are elsewhere, too, naturally.
Talkoot helped to establish framework
However, talkoot is one of the keys to understanding how and why a small get-together in the woods happened to become an actual festival. Surely, in the beginning, a bunch of friends made it happen. They shared the love to metal music and quite an organisational talent. Getting it done and even evolving it to something regular again added to the friendship, too. The festival grew and so needed the group making it. Talkoot became more important. From this angle, it appears not accidental that a large share of the current tribe joined roughly 15 years ago. The festival will have become a regular event by then but to really ‘establish’ it, a steady number of helping hands were needed. Friends of friends, fellow musicians and so on joined the cause. Or as Ville puts it: “Everything here. I’m taking trash out and putting water in those hand washing thingies. But there’s still the music. You know, festival. Everything is around music. Even if you’re cleaning trash. – It’s just cool.” Maybe talkoot became devotion. Community spirit met a joint passion and made something big happen.