News / / 22.07.13

EXIT

July 10th-14th | Novi Sad, Serbia

For one week, every year, the seemingly pleasant town of Novi Sad, Serbia takes on the distinctive hum of a stag night in Swindon. The kind of night you’ve spent with your old schoolmate Dan who’s gone and bought himself a v-neck t shirt and has only recently realised that MGMT exist. It’s not the worst thing in the world, it’s not the best, but let’s face it – you’re going to have to make the most of the situation you’re in.

Fortunately for the town’s residents, most of the typically British nonsense is enclosed in an 18th Century Fortress atop an enormous cliff. The site houses historic ruins and trees line the dry mudded paths that wind through the site in the overbearing Serbian heat. It also houses about 35,000 screaming international party goers who are, we think it’s fair to say, mostly up for a bit.

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The opening night of the festival is also the birthday of Serbian inventor Nikolai Tesla. It’s celebrated in great form with a live set from the one and only Nile Rodgers, who has decided to play at a festival, just for a change of scene we presume. We’re also treated to a couple of a cappella covers from local group Viva Vox: amongst their repertoire is System of a Down’s Chop Suey. The crowd is thin, but to be fair it is a Wednesday and most of our fellow tourist types haven’t arrived yet, so we call it in early and take a little nap before going in hard for Thursday’s super headliner Mr Calvin Cordozar Broadus AKA Snoop Dogg AKA Snoop Lion. Yeah, we’re confused too.

The big man does not disappoint, ripping through his awesome West Coast G vibe back catalogue. Despite his latest tangent into reggae territory, he makes everyone feel like they’re on Long Beach in a caddy and leaves the stage looking like the OG we know he is. Still definitely more Dogg than Lion. The night holds DJ sets from Fatboy Slim and Seth Troxler who both manage to keep the monolithic dance arena shaking until the very early hours. We end up at the Clone Records heavy HappyNoviSad stage where we take in a sunrise set from Dutch master of old school Gerd and his buddy Alden Tyrell. When we start to realise that people can see our actual faces, it’s probably time to go home and rest up for tomorrow.

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As the fortress doesn’t officially open its gates until 6pm, we spend Friday afternoon wandering around the fabulously named New Nork shopping centre in Novi Sad’s central plaza. We’re not sure if the name is just a strange Serbian joke, a mere spelling error, or if they really are suggesting you can get a 70s boob job inside but either way it gets a laugh out of us cause we’re well mature and that. After indulging in some local grub we head up to the fortress to check out 90s rave punk legends The Prodigy. Now, don’t get us wrong, we love Keith and the gang but really, a double mohawk? If anyone can pull of the outdated cyperpunk angle, these are your boys, and we must admit we might have taken the whole thing slightly seriously when frontman Maxim started screaming “DIE, FUCKING DIE!” for over a minute to a heaving crowd over a soundtrack of screeching industrial drone. On our way over to check out Detroit legend Jeff Mills we really start to get a feel for the immense gathering of people, as making your way between any two places becomes a drawn out affair, crowds extending into the distance. The tourists have arrived, and things have gotten hectic.

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Mills is as reliable as ever, using all of his experience to pack swirling techno into every possible corner of the arena. Next up comes Matador who polishes off the evening beautifully with some hypnotising techno breakfast beats that take us right on through to doors. Before we know it we’re back in our hotel gorging on Serbian delicacies before tucking ourselves up and wondering what the fuck we’ve just experienced. Probably a sign of a good night.

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Saturday night is relatively weak, we’re feeling a little worse for wear and the Serbian sun is beating us to our bones. After Atoms for Peace deliver a typically ‘interesting’ set, we make our way to the fortress proper and take in some of the 13 stages that have been constructed within various nooks and crannies around the site. One minute we’re dancing to French Latino Swing, the next we’re aswirl with the positive vibrations of the reggae stage. The only real gripe we have with EXIT is the lack of other stuff to do on site. Now, call us greedy, but at most festivals we’d be faced with an array of exciting little stalls selling what nots and doobery jigs, a plethora of food stands at very least, and if we’re really lucky maybe even a crafty bit where you can learn how to make eco friendly exfoliation pads. Alas, Exit is devoid of such entertainment, and with a line-up that contains some significant programming lulls, we find ourselves frequently at a loss for well over an hour with bugger all to do except walk between stages, all of which seem to be playing Get Lucky on repeat. Not quite the legendary hedonism we’d been briefed for. Still, once the second half of our evening rolls in to view, we are treated to brilliant sets from Ikonika and Rashad, who finishes Saturday night with Prince’s classic When Doves Cry and has the excited crowd begging for more. Unfortunately Rashad must sleep, as must any mere mortal and we follow his 8am lead straight back to the hotel.

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Our final day in Serbia bears down on us and we wake in the evening, bleary eyed, to the blistering heat. After spending an hour or so in town we make our way back to the Petrovardin Fortress for one last bash at really getting stuck in to Exit. When we get to the main stage we are greeted by Bloc Party. Their set teeters on cringeworthy and the band all look very tired and bored – reflective of recent statements which suggest this summer’s festival run will be followed by an indefinite break – so we make our excuses as the band struggle through a weak Banquet. Having indulged in a disheartening choice between KFC and Pizza Hut, we return to see if Nick Cave and The Bad Seeds can make it all OK. My god, can they. They just don’t make men like that anymore, that’s all there is to it. Nick Cave owns every inch of the stage and has every single woman in the crowd stretching their claws toward his leathery groin. His effortless cool is both frightening and hypnotic, whether he’s behind the piano playing the heart wrenching Into My Arms or screaming “Oh Deanna” into the face of a crowd surfing Serbian goth chick. He’s still kicking against the pricks on so many levels.

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At the end of a long Serbian week we leave with a looming guilt, almost like we’d missed something. The festivals slogan “Where hedonism, meets activism” didn’t really ring true and while EXIT’s roots are firmly planted in activist principles the festival itself seems to have become something like a cash cow being milked by a few large western corporations. So, it is with slight ennui that we leave the fortress, the giant screen playing adverts for the latest Fox TV shows and the colonel’s food monopoly for the final time and return to our comfortable beds for a rest.

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exitfest.org

Words: Billy Black

Photos: Jen-yl-Lo

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