Offie Mag

Welcome to Review with Lou, a regular journal from Offie Mag’s first-ever intern, Louis Rowland. Known as Wachuwan when producing music or spinning tracks with Offie Mag DJs, Intern Lou can be found on our socials with a mic in hand — or right here on the blog, documenting the nights out, last-minute gigs, and everything in between.

He’s been spotted at Old Church in Stoke Newington, Jazz Café for an electro night, and various other gigs and club nights.

This time out he’s out in Belfast for AVA 2026.

Back In May, my summer started in the best possible way, at AVA Belfast. Armed with nothing more than a tastefully mismatched tracksuit and an ambition for a good time, I touched down at Belfast International just before 10AM on Saturday.

Unfortunately, prior commitments meant I missed the festival’s first day. Judging by the reports from friends, Partiboi69, Honey Dijon and deathtoricky certainly didn’t disappoint. My trusted correspondent was having far too much fun to properly debrief me, though waking up on Saturday morning to a voice note telling me he’d had the best time was enough for me if I’m being honest.

It’s natural that people drift in and out of your life. I only regularly speak to two people I went to school with now, but those first few years after leaving always felt different. Nothing ever seemed that serious and even the most far-fetched dreams somehow felt within reach.

It’s been over half a decade since then. Bi-weekly pub trips are now more of a fever dream, replaced by an annual Christmas Eve crawl around the streets of Horsham town centre.

I’ll get to the point. Dom, one of my oldest friends, moved to Belfast a few years ago and although it’s not only cheaper but somehow quicker to get to than Manchester, I’d only managed to visit once before this trip.

I found myself reflecting in the days leading up to AVA. For my sins, I’m now something of a day festival veteran. A VIP-area loser. A press-pass poser. Those privileges, which I’m incredibly grateful for, have slowly made me neglect what it feels like to simply be a punter.

Dom was right there with me at my very first festival, back when I was excited by every part of the experience: pre-match beers on the train, barely understanding London transport, being terrified of the security dogs and having a total openness to whatever might happen.

So although I was going to AVA to cover it, I decided I didn’t want to experience it through the lens of a journalist, DJ, producer or intern. I just wanted to enjoy myself.

AVA’s setting couldn’t have felt more different from the festivals I’ve become used to in London. Rather than taking over local green spaces for a weekend of debauchery, it plants itself within Belfast’s historic shipyard. Yes, this is where the Titanic was built all those years ago, and there is something quite surreal about the cranes looming overhead that really puts the scale of the place into perspective.

One of the stages looked out across the coast with rolling hills on the horizon. The view alone almost made me forget my utter contempt for 360 stages. Almost. Turning your paying audience into unpaid extras for social media clips still doesn’t sit right with me, although judging by the crowd, I might just be a grumpy old man.

Lab54 had built a house-party stage that quickly became our base for much of the afternoon. Centred around a kitchen installation, it was one of the festival’s more inventive ideas and continued AVA’s commitment to showcasing Irish talent. Despite that, across an entire day of music there wasn’t a single song or set that genuinely blew me away. I spent more time appreciating the atmosphere than the music itself, which isn’t really what I want from a music festival.

I’d seen Interplanetary Criminal at Field Day the weekend before and, while it’s always necessary to support a fellow Wasian, familiarity breeds diminishing returns. We’ve all seen this set so many times now that there’s only so much excitement you can feign.

But as I said, I didn’t go to AVA with the intention of reviewing every set. Dom made me promise that although I was there to cover it, the priority was to have a good time. Thankfully, that wasn’t difficult. Pints of Asahi were cheaper than in most pubs I’ve been to recently, and it was nice to finally show my mate the perks of hospitality: a quieter bar and toilets that were only slightly less horrific. I never actually found the press area. Not that it mattered.

The 'VA' in AVA stood out more than anything. As a visual experience it was miles ahead of many city festivals. Thoughtfully designed stages consistently put the audience first and, as the sun disappeared, some of the lighting became genuinely euphoric.

As the event drew to a close, we headed to the official afterparty only a short walk away. By that point everyone, myself included, was completely cooked. Spending the next couple of hours drifting between the dancefloor and the smoking area, barely able to string a sentence together, probably shouldn’t have been on the cards. But sometimes you’ve just got to say yes.

The whole weekend felt like a blast from the past. It’s hard to pinpoint exactly when the present quietly becomes "the good old days", but I know these weekends happen less and less now. Maybe that’s why this one felt so special. It reminded me of being eighteen again, just with a few less familiar faces.

Thank you to AVA for having me, to the lovely girl who complimented my tracksuit, and to Erin and Dom for opening their home to me. I’ll be back. Cheers.

Words by Louis Rowland.