Goodbye Mamaia: What Sunwaves Taught Us About Music, Community, the Power of Frequencies
- Kelly Projects
- Apr 29
- 3 min read
Sunwaves Festival has announced that this year’s edition will be its last in Romania. For many of us in the electronic music community, this marks the end of an era. One defined not just by sunrise sets and marathon sessions on the beach, but by a sense of connection, freedom, and artistry.
I’ve been attending since SW23, and with this year marking SW35, it’s hard to put into words just how much this festival has shaped my life, friendships, and creative journey. While the official reason for leaving Romania hasn't been stated, the message is clear to those who’ve lived it: increasing pressure from authorities has made it impossible to continue. But while the physical location may change, the spirit of Sunwaves and what it stood for, what it gave us, will live on in the people it touched.
When I first flew from Los Angeles to Romania for Sunwaves, I had no idea I was about to experience something that would change my life. Back then, Romania felt like a mystery, distant, unfamiliar, and unlike any dance floor I had ever known. But what I found on the shores of Mamaia was a magnetic pull, a heartbeat that vibrated through the sand and into everyone around me. We were strangers at first: expats, DJs, curious travelers, and devoted music lovers from across the globe. But then the music started. And in the frequencies of minimal rhythms that stretched through time, a sense of home emerged, one built not by geography, but by connection.
The Dancefloor as a Teacher
Sunwaves was a teacher and the classroom was the dancefloor, I learned to let go of assumptions. To smile at strangers. To trust that sound has a language beyond words. People from all walks of life danced together speaking through energy, boundaries dissolved. Humanity was present. And that, more than anything, changed the lens through which I walk in the world today.
Frequencies, Messaging, and the Community It Attracts
I’ve always believed that certain genres of music carry a subconscious message. Minimal, with its deep pulse and patient structure, attracts a different kind of listener. Someone attuned to nuance, to subtle shifts in sound and emotion. This music has always drawn in people who feel deeply, observe quietly, and move with intention. That’s why Sunwaves felt like light in a dark world. It wasn’t about escape, it was about growing.
What Sunwaves taught me is this: some genres of music are encoded with subconscious messages. They act like signals, calling out to the people who need to hear them. Minimal does that. It's not loud or boastful. It moves slowly, builds patiently. It invites stillness. Awareness. Depth. It attracts people who feel deeply and move with quiet purpose. And that’s what I found at Sunwaves, an ocean of intention.
The End of an Era And What Lives On
This year, Sunwaves will say goodbye to its home in Romania after 18 years. The reasons are unspoken, but understood: escalating pressure from local authorities, a cultural resistance to what the festival represents. So this is my love letter to the beach in Mamaia, to the sand under our feet, the endless step counts, the DJs who gave everything, and the people who became family. It’s easy to see this as the end of an era. And in many ways, it is. But I also believe that frequency is stronger than location. That what we experienced can’t be taken from us. The friendships, the dancefloor magic, the quiet transformations: those live inside of us now. And wherever Sunwaves goes next, that pulse will follow.
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