Risk? What Risk?

Ah, Morocco! The land of sun, couscous, and… musical droughts? Yes, ever since COVID decided to crash our party, we’ve been living in a cultural Sahara. But lo and behold, these last two years, we’ve been pretending to crawl back to ‘normalcy’. This summer, all the big festivals came back full throttle, with Mawazine leading the charge. So, it’s time for a little summary, don’t you think?

Jazzablanca, Tanjazz, AMAZINGH, Alif, Casa Anfa Latina, Anfa Park en fête. What’s the common thread here? No, it’s not the overpriced tickets—though they come close. Actually, it’s the fact that they’re all owned and organized by the same group: Seven PM. And who’s the artistic director, you wonder? Cyril Foucault – a white Frenchman for whom the meaning of cultures is limited to how many 0s are added to his bank account. He’s got a formula : 0% risk, 100% gain. The closing of every edition? Hoba Hoba Spirit or Betweenatna. Yes, I know, Moroccans love these bands, but since when did festivals become glorified high school reunions?

Back in the day, I thought festivals were about showcasing the fresh, the new, the stuff people were listening to on their commute or while pretending to work out. Curators would venture into local underground venues to discover new talent. But apparently, I was wrong. Nowadays, the only requirement to get booked is having the right numbers on your speed dial. And political positions? Pfft. Who cares about that when you can just close the show with a crowd-pleaser? Almost like they forgot that festivals exist to make you discover new talents, not just recycle the old ones.

Now, let’s shift gears and see what happens in the electronic music scene. Moga Festival or Timelapse—big names, big lights, and… big yawn? Sure, headliners are important to keep the festival financially afloat, but do we truly need three stages of local artists playing the same setlist as the main stage? It’s like a musical Groundhog Day. Even when Moga teamed up with Soleil traitre or Tartar (no, not the steak), the lineup was basically the same soup reheated. And those “alternative” stages? More like “alternative to the alternative” because they end up playing the same stuff as the main stages, just with less hype and more ennui. If the goal was to create a sense of déjà vu, then: mission accomplished.

Maybe I’m just bitter because I didn’t get booked this summer…

Remember the first edition of Moga? Where music still mattered. Or Atlas Electronic with their “smaller” stages and that ambient room where you could lose yourself in sound? And who could forget Oasis Festival’s African Cultures Area? Those were the days when festivals took actual risks. Now? It feels like everyone just plays it safe, too safe.

Speaking of playing it safe, let’s not forget L’Boulevard. The same formula since I was a kid: three days of Rap, Metal, and Fusion—still calling it urban music like it’s 2001. Today, it’s like a festival organized by baby boomers who still think they’re hip. L’Boulevard needs a major overhaul, especially after the fiasco two years ago with the safety issues and how poorly the organizers handled the situation. It’s like they’re trying to preserve a cool idea, but it’s getting more lukewarm by the year. Global warming? The only light in the darkness, Dosei, the hip-hop event that proves community (I hate the word) power can still pull off something meaningful. Organisers and rappers show it’s not always about the money—they’re willing to guide the way without getting paid. Culture first, cash later.

So, here’s the thing: Festivals used to be magical. They allowed me to see artists live on stage, which I never dreamed I’d see, especially in a country where mobility is still an issue. But now? It feels like festivals are more about the bottom line than the baseline. Curators should focus on the cohesion and quality of the program, not just the profits. Maybe I’m just bitter because I didn’t get booked this summer, but as a music lover, constructively criticizing the state of events in this country isn’t just a pastime—it’s a necessity. This collective silence where everyone keeps their critiques to themselves, fearing they’ll miss out on opportunities, has to stop.

At the end of the day, festivals should do more than just entertain—they should showcase new talents, push boundaries, and shake things up. Because if they’re not doing that, then what’s the point?

Othmane Jmad ( 3xOJ )