Beyond the Rail:

What Lost Lands 2025 Means to Me

When most people think of Lost Lands, they think of chaos: rail riders throwing themselves into the pit, endless partying, and people going harder than their bodies can handle. That stereotype is real, but it’s not my story.

For me, Lost Lands is something different. I’m not going to party, or score, or chase some random high. I’m going because I need to remember why I fell in love with this music in the first place. I need to feel inspired again. I need to be around people who care about keeping this scene safe. And I want to share all of that with the person I love most.

This year isn’t about escape. It’s about reconnection, creativity, and community. I've broken down my reasons for going to events like these into three pillars. You can read about them below if you'd like!

Pillar One: Creativity / Inspiration

Over the past year I lost touch with why I loved electronic music, specifically shows and festivals. At first, they were magical, the lights, the sound design, the way a crowd could feel like one heartbeat, it all pushed me to open Ableton and try to capture even a fraction of that feeling. Producing wasn’t work back then, it was an extension of the wonder I felt on the dance floor.

But somewhere along the way, that shifted. Festivals and shows became about numbing out, chasing the next blurry night, instead of building something meaningful. An unsupportive, substance-fueled relationship made it worse, the more I was surrounded by that, the harder it was to find my spark. Producing stopped feeling like a calling and started feeling like a chore. The inspiration was gone, and with it, the drive to keep creating.

This year, Lost Lands is my chance to flip that narrative. I’m not going for the party, I’m going for the art, for the massive stages, the sound systems that shake the earth, the reminder of why I started making music in the first place. And this time, I get to experience it with my fiancée by my side, someone who encourages me, who believes in my music, and who makes me want to keep creating.

My goal isn’t just to watch DJs throw down, it’s to come home with a fire lit under me, to release two songs a month for the rest of the year. That number isn’t about grinding for clout, it’s a promise to myself. A promise that I’m choosing inspiration over burnout, creation over escape, music over partying again.

Preforming in 2023

Pillar Two: Harm Reduction / Community Care

Festivals aren’t always safe, that’s the reality, and it’s one I just can’t ignore. I’ve seen what happens when harm reduction is missing. I’ve watched friends spiral, I’ve felt the fallout of unsafe choices. We lost artists like Charlesthefirst and Chynna, we’ve lost local friends, and it will never get easier, but it will keep happening. People want to believe the scene is just about fun, but the truth is, there’s a massive risk, and just pretending it isn’t there or isnt a big deal doesn’t protect anyone.

But it doesn’t have to be this way. Studies show festivals are high-risk environments for drug-related adverse events: one report (35 expert interviews) pointed out that many adverse outcomes stem from inexperience with party drugs, risky purchasing, bad dosing, and environmental stressors like heat, dehydration, and crowding.

Here’s the hopeful part: harm reduction works. Organizations like DanceSafe and End Overdose are out there doing on-site drug testing, distributing water, offering education and safe spaces, and getting people the information they need to make safer decisions. I don’t use a vast majority of these substances myself, but I know they’re part of the landscape, so I want us to demand better as a community: more visible harm reduction services, real conversations, and less shame. If we do, festivals can feel less like risk zones and more like places of care, connection, and creativity.

Are You Attending Lost Lands?

• Of Course!
• Not This Year!

Pillar Three: Memory Making

This year isn’t just about me, it’s about us. I get to experience my first major festival with my fiancée, the love of my life, and that alone makes it priceless. To walk through the gates together, to feel the bass rattle our bones, to share those wide-eyed looks when the visuals go off, to hold each other when a song hits too deep... Those are the kinds of memories I’ll carry for the rest of my life. It’s not just a weekend, it’s a milestone in our story.

For me, this isn’t just about checking off a bucket list moment, it’s about planting something deeper. I want to ask her to marry me all over again, not because I need to, but because I choose to, every single day. We get to build our communities together, experience sets together, and even offer our time to Dancesafe together. Festivals have a way of amplifying feelings. The energy, the lights, the music, but underneath all of that, it’s the connection that matters most. To have my fiancee by my side at Lost Lands means I get to anchor this whole experience in love, not in chaos, not in escapism, but in something real.

But festivals aren’t only about couples, they’re about community too. They’re about the strangers who become family in the span of a set, about flow meetups where people trade props and skills and hype each other up, about the DanceSafe tents where volunteers save lives without asking for anything in return, about the producers who step off stage and remind us they’re people too. These are the moments that get overlooked when people reduce festivals to drugs and headbanging. The truth is, festivals can be massive memory-making machines, for anyone who shows up with openness and care.

Lost Lands can be the spark for love and creativity, but it can also be the soil where community grows. The conversations you have at a booth, the connections you make in the crowd, the joy of giving a water to someone who needs it more than you, all of that sticks long after the last drop hits. That’s what I want to highlight. That’s why I’m going.

Me Playing The Lost Lands Grove Stage in 2023

Why I'm Really Going...

So no, I’m not going to Lost Lands to get wasted, to score, or to lose myself in chaos. I’m going to find the spark I lost, to stand in front of the subs and remember why I fell in love with this scene, to come home ready to create again. I’m going because harm reduction matters, because I care about the people who step into these crowds, because I believe we can look out for each other and keep each other safe. And I’m going because I get to experience it all with my fiancée, the person who supports me and inspires me most, while also connecting with a community that’s bigger than any one of us.

Festivals don’t have to be about burning out or blacking out. They can be about creativity, care, and connection. They can be about choosing inspiration over escape, love over chaos, community over isolation. That’s the Lost Lands I’m showing up for, and that’s the one I want to help build.