Just one week after Brasswood in Opera Lesna, Forest Festival took place for the first time. Organized by the Baltic Artistic Agency BART in partnership with the iconic Opera Lesna and supported by Energa Group (ORLEN), this new event offered a sustainable, intimate, and locally rooted festival experience. It is a festival with an ecological mission, it felt refreshing and totally different. A small-scale event but with big expectation.
The evening opened with DJ Romero, a pioneer of the Polish club scene, who spun a dynamic breakbeat set. As the crowd filtered in and the forest shade deepened, his beats subtly set the mood, energetic but grounded.
Next up was Mikromusic, a band known for blending jazz, folk, and electronic elements. Lead singer Natalia Grosiak’s voice was in perfect harmony with the nature, and her connection with the crowd was immediate.
People swayed, sang along softly, and let themselves dissolve into the moment. Very poetic.
Breaking from the music, the festival offered us a live panel discussion on eco-conscious events. Led by artists Misia Furtak and Radek Łukasiewicz, the conversation explored topics like sustainable festival production, eco-friendly artist riders, and green tech in event planning.
That part was a core part of the festival’s DNA.
Just after, Katarzyna Nosowska, Polish alternative rock legend and former Hey frontwoman, took the stage. What followed was an unfiltered, emotionally charged performance laced with wit, vulnerability, and wisdom.
Between songs, Nosowska shared personal stories and sharp, hilarious commentary on everything from aging to motherhood to fame. She dedicated a song to her son, and you could feel the lump rise in the crowd’s collective throat.
The next artist to take the stage was Dobrawa Czocher, and with her arrival, the entire atmosphere shifted. Armed with just a cello and a subtle use of electronics, she created something that felt like a deep, internal journey. After the emotional rawness of Nosowska, Czocher’s set arrived like a cool hush. Tones swelled and dissolved, looping into each other, sometimes barely there, almost as if the forest itself was breathing through her strings.
And then came the storm.
Grubson, the rapper, the singer, the all-around musical dynamo, took the stage with collaborator Jarecki, and within seconds, the whole place exploded. The crowd erupted into movement, hands in the air, dancing, chanting. It was crazy, wild and so electric.
Grubson’s fusion of hip hop, reggae, and soul was infectious. Every drop hit hard. Every call-and-response landed. He directed the crowd.
One particularly poignant moment came when he dedicated a track to the late Joka from Kaliber 44, turning the forest into a place of remembrance and shared grief. But even the heavier moments were balanced with bursts of joy and energy. At the end of the gig, Grubson, Jarecki, and all other artists on stage, dramatically “collapsed” to protest violence, in a symbolic, theatrical closer that stuck with the audience long after the final beat.
As the lights dimmed and the last bassline disappeared into the night, what lingered was the feeling that Forest Festival stands for something. In an era when many festivals chase scale, virality, or commercial clout, this one chose a different path: intention.
Forest Festival made a statement. A quiet but firm belief that music and culture can, and should, be part of a larger conversation about the world we live in. With its commitment to sustainability, minimal environmental footprint, and programming that actively engaged with ecological themes, it became clear: this is a festival with an agenda.
In its first edition, Forest Festival showed that festivals don’t have to be loud to be bold. Sometimes, a quiet stand in the forest is the most powerful kind.
