Friday, July 27th, 2018, festival newcomer Charlotte Simmons is dispatched on her maiden voyage to the mysterious, alien environment of Future Forest. Equipped with nothing more than her trusty Samsung Galaxy 7, two apples, eight granola bars and a tent, she is tasked with documenting the wondrous happenings of New Brunswick’s fastest growing electronica celebration. The following is an accurate recounting recovered from her phone-turned-journal; viewer discretion is discouraged.
2018-07-27T17:15:23P Three stages, one river, countless DJs and an aesthetic akin to an anxious chameleon in a vat of Tropical Skittles. These make up the core of Future Forest. Each of the stages take turns concentrating on a different sub-genre of electronic music. They are affectionately labeled “Nest,” “Mushroom,” and “Prism.”
The local fauna are also striking in appearance. They are everywhere and easy to spot. Their unorthodox fashions are worn as costume or ceremonial garb—a sign of devotion and commitment to the forest perhaps. Many appear as mythological beasts and creatures. The styles shown by the festival-goers expertly compensate in bright colours for what they lack in pants.
2018-07-27T18:21:21P I set up my tent for the night, choosing its placement to best blend in with the locals and their own shelters. I have placed it near the Nest stage, which I have become most familiar with. The stage’s sound system is only a few yards away from my tent. The surrounding area is decorated with fluorescent spiderwebs, multi-coloured mushrooms and an ever-changing light setup. The stage is emitting a plethora of constant progressive house tracks. Each DJ’s drums and synths have been growing increasingly prominent throughout the evening. The locals gyrate wildly to these other-worldly sounds.
2018-07-27T19:00:58P Just up the hill from the Nest, I’ve found the Mushroom stage. It seems to have a focus on fast-paced drum and bass/breakbeat music. Within Mushroom’s canopy is the porridge-hating MOLDYLOX, and surrounding both the spore-themed stage and performer are a multitude of blue and green tinged faerie people who have gathered in for some form of worship. I am hesitant to engage with the locals in this practice for fear of causing some offence. I linger at a safe distance near the edge of the clearing, and they seem contented with this.
2018-07-27T19:34:56P I have explored the little village that these forest creatures have constructed. Amongst the temporary shelters of wire and canvas they were also creating peculiar images and installations. The day-glo colours they are using remind me of the 1980s. I wonder if I’ve perhaps stumbled into the past. I shall make this my home from now on.
Among the creations, I see what appears to be a mushrooms with legs, volcano-dwelling butterflies and a being that was half man, half machine and who seemed to be melting as he hammered away on a console. It looked to me like a duo of ancient matrix gods. I do not understand their purpose. There is not a single inch of this forest village that doesn’t house the unusual.
018-07-27T19:35:06P I’ve made a breakthrough with the locals. I have attempted to converse with them in their own language, and though the attempt seems to have failed, they have offered me strong spirits and painted my limbs. I declined to have my pants removed.
2018-07-27T19:40:41P The locals continue to ply me with beverages, and yet insist I make an effort to stay hydrated.
2018-07-27T19:45:23P I have discovered the centre of the festival, the almighty Prism stage. My eyes are open now and I am in awe. I have been freshly baptised in a wave hard-hitting dubstep and trap music. The speakers are booming. The synths are filthy. The bass is probably altering the forest’s physiology and threatening to shatter rib cages with every drop. A group called Liminal Flight are combining their bodies into fantastic alien forms and manipulating the very kinetic field of the stage that they’re gracing. Their sins have become my sins, and we grow together in our carnal knowledge.
2018-07-27T21:30:00P I have returned to my tent. Meanwhile, IsoQuant, a sentient nuclear reactor, is tending to the revellers’ auditory requirements. Their sound is consistent with that of an ACR-1000, but I admire their CANDU attitude. I abandon any hopes of sleep.
2018-07-27T22:45:00P An artist being referred to as ‘Mat the Alien’ takes the Mushroom stage, sporting a misleading humanoid form. His expertise in minimalist melodies appear to please the locals. They may be worshipping him as some form of deity. I join them. The old Gods seem so far away now.
2018-07-27T23:12:01P The tribe have accepted me as one of their own, and I have entered into their collective consciousness. It stretches backwards into oblivion and forward into eternity. Time has lost its meaning. It is no more than a river into which I may place my foot. I stand upon its shores and observe those caught in its flow.
2018-07-28T00:12:01P As night falls, the Mushroom stage comes alive. Psychedelic, kaleidoscope-esque images dance across the large mushroom decorations. I am experiencing some of the best drum and bass I’ve ever heard; I live for it. It’s as though I’ve been immersed in the soundtrack of a deepsea mountain climb in outer space.
2018-07-28T01:16:44P Brightside, Canada’s answer to Liquid Stranger, is among the godheads of Prism. His position among the divine places him alongside the juxtaposed performances of Ray Black, whose beautifully crafted trap music demands praise, and Zeke Beats, who provides a nighttime set bathed in blood and the wails of metallic golems. They loom high over us, their gleeful marionettes. The stage has become an overlord bent on making the world succumb to the sheer power of its music. We whirl in a state of orgiastic bliss, giddy to do its bidding.
2018-07-28T03:30:00P Amidst a glorious reign of progressive house at the Nest Stage, a sojourner from the Southern Cone takes his place among the Forest’s exalted. Alex Stein is now taking the stage. The locals are in ecstasy; interpret that as you will. Even the steady, minimalist melting pot of the progressive house genre can’t prevent Stein’s music from standing out from the rest. With a wave of his hand he alters the space-time continuum, increasing the tempo of his percussion ever so slightly and showcasing synths that bring me visions of a 22nd century haunted house. This techno wizard from Brazil has earned his place among the Forest’s legendary Celebrated Ones.
2018-07-28T04:10:12P Dustin Guthro, one of the few festival gods with a curiously terrestrial name, appears on stage and starts spinning relentless string synth beats. At an hour where sleep would ensnare most, we continue our praise with our bodily devotions.
2018-07-28T04:35:13P The Nest Stage shimmers through the early morning light. The creatures dancing and spinning in its vicinity show no signs of slowing down. They shimmer as well. The sounds emitted from the stage alternate between dubstep and drum and bass. They occasionally vary to some form of complex hip-hop beats and more relaxing tracks. It has become apparent that by switching the genres of the three stages, the crowds move and change; what an interesting experiment in promoting societal multiculturalism!
2018-07-28T07:22:22P A naiad named Mandala Ataksak has taken the stage, and I feel her hallucinogenic abilities evoking visions of an underwater field of chrysanthemums, all blooming around me. My Samsung 7 fails to detect any signs of intoxication.
2018-07-28T09:15:15P The Nest stage continues to provide an endless sense of wonder. A cellulose-based lifeform by the name of Plantrae utilized a very strange arrangement of sounds not unlike the underground UK artist Zomby. There’s also a being named Geometic, who I assume is a math wizard, or a high-level mathemagician. He has paired percussion with his adventurously atmospheric synths.
2018-07-29T01:00:00P Misstress Barbara startles us into wakefulness. The tribe has gathered, and so do I, as she is the talisman of the festival and the harbinger of the day. She adorns the stage with a host of valkyrie who have come to steal our hearts, tongues and ears with battle-worthy sets of their own; an all-female army is set to march this evening. If ever a sound could bring someone back to life, it would undoubtedly be Misstress Barbara’s stylistic combination of retro and contemporary sounds and genres. She is the Alpha and the Omega. She is the clarion that signals the dawn, and the horns at the end of time.
2018-07-30T06:00:00P They’ve come for me. The men in suits with their wheeled cage. They tell me it is time to go. I hear their words, but that name sounds so unfamiliar. That is no longer who I am. I am of the Forest now. These are my people. The men aren’t listening. My new gods don’t seem to be listening either…
Mission Debriefing:
My return to society has been slow. It’s been more than a week now, with only occasional visitations. I’m told that I am showing signs of improvement, however. My time in the forest was… an experience, to say the least.
There is an overwhelming sense of community there. Beyond the light shows, unceasing music, and the constant barrage of other stimuli, there is something more. From the attendees to the organizers, everyone was there to not only have a good time, but to have a good time in unity. I came across what looked to be a tree where people hung their wishes on little sheets of paper, and I couldn’t find a single one that didn’t have a positive wish for the world as a whole. A $20 bill had fallen out of my back pocket, and a complete stranger immediately returned it to me. When one of Liminal Flight’s torches accidentally lost its flame, an audience member reached out with a lighter to ensure that the show was at its best. Countless festival-goers flocked to the river in support of a wedding that went on at the festival. Whether it was a smile or a high-five, Future Forest more than proved that its sense of togetherness was second-to-none.
To say that there’s never a dull moment at Future Forest is an understatement. The festival eradicates the very concept of dullness from the fabric of our own universe, a universe which Future Forest likely doesn’t inhabit. It may drain physical energy from your body, as is the natural course of things, but it replaces it with a new kind of spiritual vitality that the human body cannot yet comprehend. Fredericton’s tiny corner of wonder is a spectacle worth every penny and neuron you can muster for it.
Remember folks, supporters of The East’s Patreon get to see loads of extra content, including most of our photos from Future Forest. Go on. We need to pay for Charlotte’s therapy somehow. Just in case you weren’t sure, here are a bunch more photos:
