Owen Humphreys reports from a music event with a difference...
Watched over by armed guards, one of the world's most remote music festivals unfolded on the Arctic archipelago of Svalbard. Unlike the big commercial festivals, where every stage is draped in alcohol and vape branding, the Isfjord Radio Music Festival is something entirely different: a weekend where musicians and guests live side by side, far from the modern world, at the literal edge of civilization.
The journey began in Longyearbyen, the coal mining town that serves as Svalbard’s capital. About the size of Ireland, the archipelago is home to just 3,000 people. Boasting a host of 'the most northerly’ titles, Longyearbyen is the most northerly settlement of its size in the world. Though the last coal mine shut in June this year, the town still wears its industrial past; the cable cars standing like monuments to another era, the miners’ barracks now operating as hostels.
Our destination was Isfjord Radio Station, first built in 1933 as a wireless relay station before being automated and converted into a hotel. The station is only accessible from Longyearbyen by a two hour boat journey during summer, or by snowmobile during winter.
This year, even that was precarious: the island’s petrol supply had been contaminated with diesel, grounding tourist tours and scientific expeditions alike. In a place this remote, even minor setbacks can have outsized consequences. The contamination not only disrupted travel plans but left the small local community waiting weeks for essential supplies, while organisers worked to ensure artists and guests could still reach the station.
The station itself had the amenities of a small hotel but felt like an outpost on the edge of the wilderness. Reindeer grazed just outside the windows. Guards paced the grounds with rifles slung over their shoulders, essential in a place where polar bears outnumber people. A bear had been spotted only days before; every white rock in the distance sparked a jolt of excitement.
After a tour of the grounds and a shared dinner, the first performance came from Anna of the North. Best known for her ethereal electro-pop hit Lovers, featured in Netflix’s To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before, and for collaborating with Tyler, The Creator. Her set here was stripped back in the cosy surrounds of a living room turned concert hall. At first she seemed nervous at the intimacy of it all, the station only has the infrastructure to support about twenty five guests plus a dozen or so staff. She mixed her English-language tracks with songs from a new Norwegian acoustic EP, and even slipped in a tender cover of Nothing Compares 2 U.
In a place so defined by remoteness, it wasn't the landscape that lingered but the people; musicians, guides, and guests brought together by music, shared meals, and late-night conversation.
That night musicians and guests stayed up discussing music and adventure until finally relieving the polar bear guards on patrol. The guests were primarily attracted to the festival by the sense of adventure. The group was eclectic: a couple who lived and worked in Antarctica, a man recalling his Svalbard childhood regretting that his family moved away, and a retired Arctic pilot who went on to found the island’s first and only brewery.
Day two began with a boat trip to a glacier, where Jonas Alaska was set to perform. Svalbard is the fastest-warming place on earth, and the summer of 2024 had brought record glacial melt. On the way, a minke whale surfaced beside us before diving back into the grey water. The captains tied our boats together, one acting as a stage, the other as an open-air auditorium. In the still Arctic air, Alaska’s gentle folk melodies drifted across the water, mingling with the calls of Arctic birds.
Back at the station after lunch; Anna performed again, this time in the boathouse, a wooden slat building decorated with ropes, buoys and other sailing relics. Illuminated by candlelight, the polar bear guards join in leaving their rifles outside and closing the door behind them. By now Anna was visibly more at ease; after shared meals and late-night conversations, the tension of performing to strangers had melted away.
In between sets some guests attempted fishing, with no luck, while the guides challenged others to a game of Kubb, repurposing fire logs and taking turns hurling sticks to topple the opposing team’s blocks.
The final morning started with sharing a sauna and plunge into the Arctic Ocean, before we set off on a hike across the tundra. Despite Svalbard’s designation as an Arctic desert we were met with relentless sideways rain, weather more familiar to the west of Ireland, and another harbinger of its shifting climate. In places the permafrost had pushed ancient whale skeletons to the surface, adding an eerie touch to the already bizarre landscape.
Once dry, we boarded the boat back to Longyearbyen. That night Anna invited everyone to reunite at Karlsberger Pub, the old coal miners’ bar that remains a town institution. We stayed until closing, appreciating the company around us and the rare bonds that had formed in this remote corner of the world.
In a place so defined by remoteness, it wasn’t the landscape that lingered but the people; musicians, guides, and guests brought together by music, shared meals, and late-night conversation. For a moment, the world’s edge felt less like an ending and more like a gathering place.
Find out more about the Isfjord Radio Music Festival here
