Hero image by Astrid (@shinyironvaliant)

“The textile union once owned this building, but I can’t count how many punk shows I’ve seen in here,” Seb (who makes music as Zer0 rei) tells me, sitting at the front of Kortrijk’s Textielhuis.

A loom is emblazoned on a large window, where a coat of arms would usually be.

Tonight (27 August) and tomorrow night, artists in its large backroom will unpick the threads of sampled music and stretch and warp them to the point of breaking, creating something different. At which point, they will move to take the Buda Arts Centre, a large arthouse cinema, with their apt brand of abstract and euphoric sounds.

Slushwave 2026 welcomes back artists, listeners, and cassette tape collectors to revel in the sound and the scene they’ve all created together. Its home, usually, is scattered across servers on the internet… this weekend it is Kortrijk.

The latest edition of listencorp magazine features a deep dive into the slushwave genre with the help of its leading artists and fans. Edition 008 also includes interviews and reviews of other interesting electronic music. You can get 15% off it and anything else in the store now by using the code: slushonline15

Welcomed to this Flemish city by Zer0, arguably the glue holding this unique event together along with his partner Claudia – the other big force behind the scenes – he explains the opportune situation in this sleepy Flemish town that allows such proceedings to go ahead. A lull in commercial activity has given rise to empty spaces and opportunities that people like him have seen fit to repurpose and use respectively. This includes his own BLUT! Art Gallery, along with the large Textielhuis venue and even a community sauna.

The musical side of proceedings is headed up by, for all intents and purposes, this movement’s sonic leader. A UK-based artist named desert sand feels warm at night, who has helped galvanise the community into what Kortrijk locals and those in the right music circles would see emerging last weekend: an event – both IRL and URL thanks to the indefatigable work of Vapor Memory – dedicated to this vaporwave offshoot.

The musical offerings start with Kratzwerk, a late entry to the bill and supported in the opening of the festival by 818181/Astrid, the two, at the set’s start, seem to represent the opposite ends of the slushwave spectrum. Krauzwerk twiddles the dials of his guitar pedals, with long hair flowing along with his hippieish dance movements.

Astrid represents the more discerning slusher, unsure at the beginning – possibly due to it not being her own gear – testing the waves. The expressionist and the eagle-eyed shoegazer, together. A laser-sharp focus on the main tenets of slushwave’s sound, and the resultant pulse of possessed movement that comes with it.

At a certain point, the two impromptu performers hit a perfect crest at the right time and share a moment riding the wave.

After a URL set from EXSHA, getting patched in from India in the first flourish of the movement’s global credentials, it’s time for true vaporwave royalty to take the stage, aptly dressed in a Burger King uniform. In his set, 猫 シ Corp. dutifully displays both his veteran slushwave credentials and his impact on that wider electronic music scene online. Donned in the right kind of gear, he flips classic tracks pulled from his sizable discography. An album like B l u e D r e a m is arguably one of many founding records for the genre’s sound.

The set suddenly turns into some screen-based crypto seminar as thumbnails of soyfacing rug-pullers appear on the projector behind 猫 シ Corp.

The lounge-y tunes conjure some understanding of the crypto-sphere, not as the pump.fun clout-based practice of today, but a seminar pyramid scheme of 90s/00s American capitalist chaos, the preceding foundations that such ephemeral currencies are based on today.

It is bewildering that such an adept bard of American culture could actually be from the Netherlands.

teph co’s URL set starts with melodious bells before diving into a mix that touches on the genre’s classic sound. Often finding starry-eyed sound in the manipulation of tracks from pre-millennium Japanese music (like many other genres in a similar tree).

In teph co’s post-set interview (an informative aperitif to almost every set), they use a phrase many will use over the weekend when asked about the contents of their set. “I pulled mostly from collaborative albums.”

Many artists will say similar things about their set, highlighting the creative and collaborative energy that runs through the genres.

And this energy is shared by those in the live chat, as Vapor Memory’s stream is constantly pinging with track ID’s and reactions. In many ways, it’s two festivals running simultaneously. In Kortrijk, listeners sit in near silence, bobbing to the slow, slushy rhythms. Over on YouTube, the chat buzzes with life, users make their presence known only by what they type.

The first night ends courtesy of a recent upstart in the genre, releasing their first album just last year. Psicadence is another that transmits across the world from Brazil. A lone dancer is bathed in shadow on the URL set’s video as 誕生と死 (Birth and Death) pulses out. Gentle bass-y notes are quaint in contrast to the cascading pads that push out over the stream. The track, pulled from Psicadence’s latest release, offers an experience of slushwave at its best. The artist has noticeably refined their sound, with low, middle and high frequencies all pushing up and out. There is a layered pulse to the waves of sound, held together with an arrangement that shows poise and patience. There is no one cathartic moment where the waves break, where one feels the emotion peak. This is a genre of constant catharsis.

There’s a punchiness to the mix that cuts through what can sometimes be a – innately – washed-out sound. As the visuals clear to reveal silvery shots of a woman alone in an industrious setting, the more rhythmic elements of the genre can be heard. There’s a dubby quality to Psicadence’s Trust – made for a compilation with funds aiding the recently devastated countries of Venezuela and Colombia – that is infectious, paired with the repeated phrase “let it go”. Slushwave’s most promising newer artist calling out to the event’s organisers to relax into the final moments of their first day. To trust that things have gone well.

The latest edition of listencorp magazine features a deep dive into the slushwave genre with the help of its leading artists and fans. Edition 008 also includes interviews and reviews of other interesting electronic music. You can get 15% off it and anything else in the store now by using the code: slushonline15

DAY 2 – Textilehuis

The weather wavers between rain and partly blue skies as the festival reconvenes with slushwave fans trading in their physical media of choice: cassette tapes. Labels and avid listeners set out stalls to swap cassettes of their favourite artists and conversations turn towards the acts for tonight.

Default Venus gets things started IRL in a novel way, ingenious in its simplicity. One might expect, with the poppy R&B of SOS Band’s the finest blaring out of a vinyl, that things have picked up in pace from the first day, somewhat rallying against the classic understanding of the genre. But, spun slowed down and live FX applied, Default Venus brings a live slushwave set to the Kortrijk crowd.

Boiling the set down to its base ingredients for the audience’s pleasure, the bright disco synths of Paul Hardcastle’s Rainforest and Stevie B’s Spring Love are caught in a dramatic crawl. Their fluttering instrumentation is allowed to fully unfurl before scattering out.

It’s a testament to just how ingrained the sound and methodology is at this point that Default Venus can present the slushwave process live in such an effective way. It results in a listen that is studied as much as it is enjoyable. Laser-y kicks disappear down spirals.

“The early vaporwave days of Bandcamp were magical,” glaciære says, laughingly admitting that she “has not been able to keep up with the scene”. She clarifies how a lot of festival-goers are probably feeling: “This place feels like being in a wonderful dream.”

Much like the first night, the next IRL set is from another legend in the larger internet music scene. glaciære lets her clean and quaint instrumentation cascade a little more for this set. Pulling mainly from early albums, her sound – a kind of toy utopian atmosphere – is a little more hazy here.

It’s a special set – only her second time performing live – made even more so by the insights she offers in the post-set interview. “The early vaporwave days of Bandcamp were magical,” glaciære says, laughingly admitting that she “has not been able to keep up with the scene”. She clarifies how a lot of festival-goers are probably feeling: “This place feels like being in a wonderful dream.”

She discovered vaporwave through a Swedish emo forum, a reminder of the genre’s initial emergence as a kind of online novelty. Pool Water Blue may lack the samples and disorienting qualities of slushwave, but it swims in the same magical pool.

The night continues with 恋人の夢’s set sending pulsing beats through Textilehuis in the style desert sand later says is rising rapidly: slush house. There’s a certain irony in old songs, slowed down to then be sped up again, but the sound seems more to refer to the melodic elements of a house track being laden with barberpole phasers, in a slushwave style. It’s an instance in which it might be easier to think of slushwave as a lens or filter an artist can apply to music.

If there is one artist that can reiterate its existence as a standalone genre, though, it’s the closing URL act, Mindspring Memories. Her precisely engineered brand of the sound begins to whirl outwards.

Idyllic scenes, enchanted forests and faintly American houses, are seared with jerkingly flashing lights, like a faded poster from a long-abandoned classroom. MM’s brand of slushwave so often epitomises feelings of wistfulness and longing as she pulls from the airy sequences of new age music, supercharging it with a well-known production flair.

Soon old webpages are flickering against cloudy backgrounds and warm saxophones are peeling out into the seemingly unending aether. MM arrives at the peak of proceedings, and from here we can see a beautiful horizon.

DAY 3 – Buda Arts Centre

Clusters of people hurry up and down the two levels of the Buda Arts Centre, readying things for the largest day of all. The upgrade in venue is met with a coterie of live acts as the team gets to work soundchecking all the relevant performers. Each performance is still seen off by an online miniset.

Experience Solitudes’s miniset takes us into the sparse realm of the sound, mystic marbles joined by meditative phrases as lively bass works its way through the backbone of percussion.

In the foyer, things are abuzz as vendors offer tapes, vinyls and (our very own) magazine. Fans find releases they’ve been hoping to get their hands on, free from agonising shipping costs and accompanied by a nice conversation with the label owner or even the artist. The Tidal Charm characteristically set up an immersive stall, fitted with a tape player that can be sampled and even a PC strategy game with a special tape accompanying it. Fans file in, many beelining straight for desert sand’s own stall, eager to pick up a copy in anticipation of his set at the close of the festival.

It’s a long way off at this point though, as 818181 fittingly provides a mournful set. The visuals – provided much of the time by The Dab Wizard – come into play particularly here. As light bells fall into a hyperemotional chord sequence, images of fairies fizzle and granulate on the large screen.

818181 (the alias of the aforementioned Astrid) seems to take succour from those melancholy elements of the genre, ratcheting up the sense of longing until the music resembles some disquieting buried YouTube video, some personal confession meant only for close friends, candid text garnished by gothic tinkerbells and Pon and Zi cartoons.

A crowd of attentive listeners line the seats as they do for 818181’s close friend memorykeeper7, who brings the rain inside before deep bass movements pulse it away and it’s replaced by an enveloping aether.

Both represent the newer crop of the sound once again, and seem to push each other forward in their creative escapades.

Lemon and blueberry slush is being drunk, and more infectious rhythms danced to both in and out of the performance space as 18 days brings another rhythmic angle on the sound.

On a flickering CRT set on the bar, the ever-popping Vapor Memory chat is visible, the URL and IRL coming together once again.

“This is my third Slushwave Festival,” someone says, showing off the trio of lanyards around their neck. What’s perhaps more surprising than that is the first-timers, not just to the festival, but to the sound in general.

A few people filing in and out of the performance space explain that they’ve come with a friend or a partner, a slightly bewildered look in their eyes as they access such a niche movement in such an overwhelming way.

Among the fans are artists too, of course. Room 208 divulges plans for a new collaborative album coming this year, speaking of intentions to score video games and of their upcoming set the following day at the slightly separate free event, Naturewave.

Back inside the performance space, and a one of the most versatile artists takes to the stage.

VANITAS命死 brings deep cement beats, like the foundations of the cityscape that glide across the large screen. The Belgian artist is the only IRL act of the day that has handled their own visuals, and they provide a comprehensive accompaniment to the sonic proceedings.

Hip hop beats hunker down around slushy melodies. VANITAS命死 is another artist who is perhaps one that listeners may not directly associate with the titular genre. Uplifting pianos are mulched by heavy beats as the artist’s own brand of medication is enjoyed by Asian women whose visages begin to evaporate into a haze of visual FX. Lyrics appear in chunky writing as disco beats are slowed to a juggernaut pace, slow and chunky.

It feels as though VANITAS命死 is particularly well-suited to balance the inherent irony of internet music with the potential for real original musicality. That booming slowed-down vaporwave voice calls out frequently, but is always backed with solidly mixed instrumentation and an innate sense for percussion that’s precise as it is fun.

Not so with the penultimate act, whose near-formless melodies drift like wisps of smoke, or like the pixelated aurora borealis that begins to move slowly on the screen behind.

ｙｏｕ　ｓｔｉｌｌ　ｆｅｅｌ　ｔｈｅｍ　ｏｕｔ　ｔｈｅｒｅ，　ｄｏｎ＇ｔ　ｙｏｕ’s tracks emerge through a bleary shroud, the sonic representation of Clive Harold’s The Uninvited or some half-remembered X-Files episode that might have been a dream. The artist drifts into the near border between slush and all-out ambient.

This penultimate act conveys the usual look of a slushwave performance too, as many of the other acts have. Artists bent over dials and screens, pulling out some kind of shimmering shoegaze, working hard and in a slightly closed manner to achieve the disorienting sounds.

But with the final performance, headline duo desert sand feels warm at night and days of blue skies look to exorcise this assumption. It’s a risky decision. One can imagine that fans have descended on Kortrijk, well-trained by Bandcamp output and looking to see that sound reproduced as closely as it was made.

As desert sand feels warm at night approaches electronic drum pads and glittering bells begin to cascade through the Buda’s performance space; though, there feels like a shift through the room. The classic wormhole appears in listeners’ minds, complemented by the icons of each performer proceeding from the screen.

But the sound is cleaner and has more of a sense of ameliorating in real time before the audience’s eyes. desert sand has come dressed for the occasion, white blazer and light floral shirt. days of blue skies too, in all black with powerful raised wedge-boots. Each representing the dark and light of the sound.

They communicate with other through bells, falling into rhythm and sending out sweeping snares. A sense of wonder begins to drift through the room. These artistic avatars made real.

The pair launch into a short setlist of solo and collaborative work. Donning a keytar, desert sand is a natural performer. The artist is unafraid of utilising vocals in a genre thought to have little voice; he crafts reverbed plosives and notes like some new age Christopher Cross. There are hints of Active Child in the high vocals too, even more traditional choral music.

days of blue skies tries a hand at vocals too, more modest in their delivery, but supplying much of the set’s nuance through the more quizzical sound their slushwave possesses.

There are beautiful vocals from Alice Mills, too, a recent collaborator for a forthcoming album. Her tone brings not only a salve to the lower register of the music and voices, but to the proceedings in general. Female vocals and presence are still an imbalance in the wider genre.

As one of the movement’s leaders and an incredibly promising disciple work through their set, a sense of peace washes through the Buda. Epitomised in desert sand’s own words shortly after the set: “We did it”.

Whether the future holds another “bigger and better” for the live slushwave events remains to be seen. They can continue to draw in listeners from the vaporwave and vapor-adjacent crowd as slushwave undoubtedly grows in stature and scope. But whether such an event, such a movement, can draw in fans from further afield – in ambient or more traditional electronic circles – is unclear.

But that is the reality of a dedicated fanbase, a family, if you will. It can only grow so large, but its parts – scattered across the globe – remain dedicated, passionate, willing to support, create and express themselves.

It is apt, perhaps, that when catching people around the festival and in post-set interviews, notions of unreality crop up. Slushwave 2026 is “magical”, like a “wonderful dream”

Just as so many have found a home in the movement’s sound, they certainly found a home during the three days when the slushwave community grouped together and signalled out as one into the aether.