How not to melt this weekend

London is set for another scorcher this weekend.

Depending on which forecast you follow, temperatures across the capital could climb well into the 30s. That's great news if you've spent the last six months complaining about grey skies and rain. It's slightly less great news if you're planning to spend twelve hours dancing in a converted car park (hiya, Anyma attendees), shaking your butt in a street party, or squeezing yourself into a warehouse packed with several hundred other people generating their own microclimate.

I hate to be the responsible adult and, honestly, if i'm your responsible adult you've probably done something wrong. But, as somebody who spends an unhealthy amount of time at festivals and club nights, I've learned that the biggest mistake people make during hot weather is assuming they'll notice when they're getting into trouble. Usually, they don't.

So, here are a few tips to make sure you can party safely in this obscene heat. If you're not out all weekend, it might still help you out: this is our new normal after all.

Heat exhaustion tends to creep up on you. One minute you're having a brilliant time, and the next you're wondering why you're suddenly exhausted, irritable, dizzy or struggling to concentrate. The dancefloor feels harder work than it should. The walk to the bar feels longer than it did half an hour ago. You convince yourself you're fine, but no one wants to end their party in the welfare tent.

With that in mind, a few quick reminders before heading out this weekend.

• Start hydrating before you arrive. The easiest way to get caught out is turning up already dehydrated. If you've spent the day in the sun, travelled for several hours or had a few drinks before the event, you're already playing catch-up. Water isn't a magic reset button.
• Electrolytes are your friend. When you're sweating heavily for hours, your body is losing more than just water. A cheap electrolyte tablet, sports drink or rehydration sachet can make a surprising difference, particularly at festivals where you're active all day. Security might try to take this off you if they don't understand what you're packing, but you've all smuggled things into a festival before, right?
• Take breaks before you need them. Most experienced ravers know that sitting down for ten minutes can often buy you another few hours on the dancefloor. The trick is doing it before you feel awful, not afterwards. Find some shade, have a chat, head back to the dance floor after a cold drink.
• Be extra cautious with drugs in hot weather. High temperatures increase the risks associated with many substances. Stimulants such as MDMA, cocaine and amphetamines can raise body temperature and make dehydration more likely. Ketamine can make it harder to recognise when your body needs a break. Psychedelics can become more overwhelming when you're physically uncomfortable and struggling with the heat. Whatever you're taking, remember that the conditions are different this weekend. Consider taking less than you normally would, take regular breaks, stay hydrated and don't ignore the warning signs if you're feeling unwell. This is also true of alcohol, which will dehydrate you
• Look after your friends. One of the nicest things about dance music culture is that people generally keep an eye on each other. If somebody looks overwhelmed, check in. Offer them water. Suggest a break. Sometimes that's all it takes.
• Don't forget the travel. Some of the hottest moments of a weekend aren't at the event itself. They're standing on an overcrowded platform or sitting waiting for travel.

Most of us spend all winter wishing for weekends like this and they really are something to enjoy. Just remember that the dancefloor isn't going anywhere. Missing fifteen minutes because you're sitting in the shade with a bottle of water is infinitely better than missing the rest of the event because you pushed yourself too far.

Treat yourself. Buy an ice cream. Okay, adulting over.

This week's mix is from our In The Booth DJ, inda Flo. It hops around a few different places. Here it is, in inda Flo's own words:

"This mix was born out of daydreams about that otherworldly feeling of following the drumbeat of a distant soundsystem through the woods to find that clearing where nothing but the music can touch you. It’s dark electro and tribal techno that puts you through your paces."

It's rare to have a parasocial relationship with someone you actually know, but that's the closest thing I have with inda Flo. Despite having met her several times, every time I see her on a lineup, behind a set of decks, or popping up on my social feeds, part of me reacts with the same excitement usually reserved for big international DJs like they're coming to play London for the first time.

Her sets are techno with a world music bent, creating something almost unique in London's smaller venues as she plays bigger and bigger venues. The first time I saw her play in a very sweaty gig at Makossa after staggering out of a Chase and Status gig at Drumsheds, I was entirely blown away.

What I admire most, though, isn't the music. It's the way she uses whatever platform she has, both publicly and behind the scenes, to try and leave things a little better than she found them. Club culture can sometimes reward cynicism, self-promotion and looking after your own interests. Choosing to care, loudly and consistently, takes a surprising amount of courage, courage I'll quite openly wish I had.

You can see her twice this weekend, if you're into that. inda Flo is playing at Peckham Levels on Friday night, and Multi Multi in Hackney Wick this Saturday.

What’s the first track that made you understand what a dancefloor could do?

I think it has to be Timewarp by Sub Focus. I remember when that track basically took over all Drum and Bass dancefloors everywhere, and it was the same extraordinary experience every single time. Crowds would lose their minds to the way that tune builds and drops a dancefloor to such epic extremes. That summer was nuts. All I wanted to do was experience those peaks and drops en masse. That tune taught me that there was something more to partying than just “a good time”. There was something unexplainable that could only be felt in the good company of others who were all there to experience that same feeling. Even now when I hear that tune, I remember all the faces of sheer disbelief and satisfaction that the magic was really real, and all the limbs dancing so hard trying to express what could never be explained but we all intuitively understood.I think that’s why I was so upset when Sub Focus started playing Dubstep a few summers later.

What do you notice from the booth that no one else sees?

To answer this question, I have to speak from the booth AND from the dancefloor (after all, I’m both raver and DJ in equal parts… cut me and I bleed boogie). The thing I notice that no one else sees is all the near misses. It’s what I love about the divinity of the dancefloor - a series of serious incidents waiting to happen and yet they more often than not, never seem to. So many collisions and casualties that if you look closely, are constantly almost happening. All the limbs and liquids slipping and sliding to create a hot mess of health and safety. I’m not saying that shit never happens - it does. Sometimes egos clash and fists do go flying or, even worse, we’ve all been caught out by the soak of someone’s sticky drink. But I’m always amazed by all the times these things don’t happen when logically they definitely should have. Sometimes I just stand there and marvel at all the near misses and just smile to myself in awe and wonder. And every once in a while, I’ll catch the eye of someone else who just saw what I saw and we’ll exchange a wink of “fucking hell, that was close wasn’t it?”

What part of you only exists on a dancefloor?

The part of me that only exists on the dancefloor is actually an absence as much as it is a presence. It’s the absence of the analytical, theoretical, intellectual parts of my brain. It’s the presence of my raw intuition that knows what to do, what’s coming next, what is needed, what it all means. My instinct and intuition takes over and I trust it. I’m sure that’s what makes me such a good DJ. Even the fact I’m able to own that I’m a good DJ without feeling obnoxious about it proves the point in and of itself - because I’m channelling something that is higher than my skill or intelligence. I just have a deep knowing that is connected to and communicated through my relationship with creative flow, spiritual energy, and ultimately the God-universe. I become a conduit for something beyond myself whether I’m in the booth or on the dancefloor. My body knows and I follow.

What song do you keep in your back pocket to cause trouble?

I have a growing selection of grenades that always go off when tossed into the middle of a dancefloor but right here right now I’m going to shout out two certified bangers for you - both produced by incredibly talented queer women who are also fellow members of Sisu and lovely friends of mine.

The first is The Morrigan by Toraigh which is an Irish-inspired techno track that masters percussion and string in the most earbending way. Love it and it always does the job of getting ravers’ attention.

And the second is A Fall by Lucine and Nodal Edge which is a euphoric electronic track that is what I’d call intelligent dance music in the way it’s able to build and release a dancefloor at will. 

Buy them, stream them, dance to them! These tracks never disappoint.

How do you describe your sound?

My sound is pretty relentless in terms of rhythm and energy. At risk of being a bit cliché, there’s no question that I’m a peak-time DJ. Put me on from midnight onwards and I’ll show you what I’m made of.

At the moment I’m really building my signature sound of global techno which means getting creative with techno music that is influenced by a wide range of different regional rhythms and cultural melodies. European techno can be quite cold, hard, and square which isn’t me at heart. I love soul, flavour, warmth, colour, and depth - to name a few key ingredients. And so, I play high-energy techno that spans the hypnotic, tribal, percussive, psychedelic, and of course global frequencies. I’m also loving celestial techno (aka heavenly, otherworldly, ethereal techno) which brings a level of depth and divinity that my spirit really needs. I also play a lot of global bass, electronic, and world music - which again, all heavily feature culturally diverse sonic worlds. I’m an absolute sucker for culture, what can I say?

The way I describe myself is that I’m an assassin selector, relentless blender, and worldwide cratedigger who is divinely called to build, bridge, and blend worlds of sound and spirit, of culture and cosmos, across waters and beyond borders. From my sets, you can expect higher frequencies, heavy basslines, and melt-in-mouth melodies to move the soul.

Who's your partner in crime?

I have a few partners-in-crime that I’d like to shout out for when I win my first Brit Award. Shout out to my brother for sending me the best Afrobeat bangers that I could have asked for. A special mention of my partner Hacker Boi Ale who is my ride-or-die raver who so lovingly loves to see me succeed. A love note to my twinflame and girlboss-sidekick Cat aka Faded Society who is such a force of nature in friendship, fun, and serious business. Utmost respect to MakerMark who co-runs Felt Soundsystem and could be described as my better half when it comes to b2b-ing. And massive props to my Sisu sisters who are my co-conspirators in taking on the music industry in the name of justice and winning.

Why do you dance?

To experience unadulterated joy. To remember why we exist. To sweat off the daily grind of life. To experience the magic, mystery, and mischief. To give thanks. To love. To feel. To connect to myself and my divinity. To connect to others and their divinity. To be creatively inspired. To know what I like and what I don’t. To have lived a life worth living. To have no regrets.

How did you get your DJ name?

This is a great question because it actually has much more meaning than just the surface connotations of “in the flow”. Since I was a teenager I’d always thought I was going to call myself DJ V (that tells you how long I’ve wanted to be a DJ for). My first name is Vanessa and all my friends call me V so it’s always made sense. But when the moment actually came for me to choose my DJ name, I didn’t feel very connected to DJ V which I was quite disappointed about. But I thought it would be a nice opportunity to lean into my Nigerian names, something I never do except in familial contexts. ‘inda’ is taken from my Yoruba middle name - I shortened it to inda because I didn’t want people mispronouncing it all the time. And then Flo is an abbreviation of my Nigerian surname which I’ve been using since I was a kid on the internet in chatrooms and on MySpace. And so, inda Flo was born. Small i, capital F, no w. The spelling and capitalisation is significant because it’s literally taken from my real names. Sadly a fairy dies every time a promoter decides to wildcard it and spell my DJ name as Inda Flow. RIP.

Tell me more about Sisu Crew and your part in it

Sisu is an DJ collective and roster for FLINTA artists who are not willing to settle for the status quo of the music industry. It is a respected platform that champions its DJ roster through high-quality bookings across the UK and beyond while also making it its mission to remake the music industry in an image other than the overrepresented cis-white, straight, and wealthy male. Sisu engages in community activism that goes further than promoting diverse lineups (although this is worthy enough work in and of itself), but it also addresses industry shortfalls such as welfare, access, and building solidarity. Sisu has evolved from its origin to have a dual purpose that is equal parts creative as it is political.

I’ve been a proud member of Sisu for over a year now and it’s the place that I call home, both creatively and politically. I’m committed to building Sisu to its fullest potential, that has always been my mission from the day that I applied and got accepted as a member. DJing can be a very solitary activity, especially in an industry that worships the individual, so it feels really good to be a part of something bigger than myself.

Last year you, along with Sisu Crew, called out Field Day in an open letter (that resulted in a mass boycott) about KKR's ownership with the festival. Tell me about how this situation came about?

Immediately after joining Sisu, I got booked to play Field Day. At the time it was the biggest booking I’d ever had and I was on cloud nine about it. But then I found out that Field Day was owned by Superstruct which had been bought by KKR, a private equity firm that has investments that were complicit in the  apartheid-genocide of the Palestianian people as well as the environmental degradation of indigenous land of the Wetʼsuwetʼen nation.

Despite all the human emotions that I experienced (from frustration to anger to grief to fear and all the rest) my spirit could not rest and eventually I realised that I was going to have to do something. Luckily there were others who also felt compelled to act. So me, ŌKAMI, Jezebelle, and Ex.sses (and shout out Watcha!) organised along with PACBI-BDS to carry out a strategy that would hopefully influence Field Day to work with us to address their complicity. Sadly that invitation was turned down repeatedly by Field Day management resulting in us writing an open letter that went viral and eventually 11 artists from Sisu boycotting the festival and taking half the lineup with us. We also supported countless punters in getting refunds on their Field Day tickets and we put on a Sisu fundraising event that sold out both rooms at Venue MOT on the same weekend as Field Day to raise money for a strike fund that subsidised any artists who needed financial support to boycott Superstruct-owned festivals across Europe. Our campaign was a huge success that forced Field Day to make an official statement apologising for their corporate complicity although it was too little, too late, the damage had been done.

And how do you feel about it now, a year later?

When I look back on the campaign, I’m filled with a deep sense of pride and conviction. It’s not every day that David wins against Goliath - and in today’s world we need all the wins we can get. On a personal level, the campaign compelled me to answer the existential question of “what kind of artist do I want to be?” and I liked the answer that I came out with on the other side of that question. I look back on how the four of us worked day and night for six months, mostly behind the scenes but also in the heat of the spotlight. And we always had one objective - to move the needle, even by just a millimetre, towards a Free Palestine. Even through all of the uncertainty and noise and complexity and risk, we followed through on a strategic plan that proved to be incredibly effective in process and outcome but also one that left our integrity intact. I’m grateful for the opportunity to prove that you can be successful without having to sell your soul or other people’s. Standing up for what I believe in has cost me nothing I regret. So I feel really inspired by what we achieved together as a Sisu crew.

But I have to say, a year on from our campaign, that despite all the outrage of last year against KKR, memories across the scene seem tragically short and the status quo seems to have reasserted itself quietly. There has been no sustained or coordinated effort to continue boycotting KKR-owned festivals and I find this sad, disappointing, and sometimes disheartening because it plays into the enemy’s strategy. Along with bottomless budgets to throw at the problem, companies like KKR are often playing a waiting game for people to fall into fatigue, distraction, overwhelm, and apathy.

Unfortunately I do think that this is what has happened - along with artists and punters buying into the idea that the war is won and so back to business as usual. This is not reality, it’s a privileged delusion that smacks of convenience and obliviousness at best, and willful ignorance at worst. It’s been predominantly collectives of colour that have tried to keep boycotts alive without any mass support to back them and I find this to be an unfair burden to place on the shoulders of those of us who are already dealing with marginalisation in the industry. I have to admit, it’s taken me a full year to recover from the burnout that the Field Day campaign left me in, and so I haven’t been as active as I have wanted to be either. But if there’s one thing I want to remind us all of, it’s that South African apartheid did not dismantle overnight. It took decades of stubbornness and strategy to culturally ostracise South Africa enough for it to yield. This same energy is required of us if we actually want to win. The question becomes: Is going to that festival or accepting that booking really worth it when it means you’re pouring more money and legitimacy into the coffers of KKR coffers? Each person will have their own answer to this question - I’m not pretending that everyone will see this the way I do. But I’m speaking to the people who claim to stand against oppression, exploitation, and injustice but who are simultaneously taking the path of least resistance. To be crystal clear, there has never been a ceasefire. Palestinians continue to be maimed, annihilated, and oppressed every single day. And those technologies are reaching our western shores and soon those same genocidal weapons of mass destruction won’t feel so conveniently far away. So now what? What are you willing to risk? Who does the world need you to be? And when you actually think about it for more than a second, what kind of creator or consumer do you want to be? And what kind of creator or consumer does the world need you to be?

GemFest feels like the sort of festival the UK is in danger of losing. Offering four days of camping and dancing across ten stages organised by independent record label Pull Up Records, GemFest, set in the grounds of Charlton Park Estate just outside Malmesbury, has grown from its origins as a private birthday party in 2023 for friends into a festival that now attracts thousands. What makes it stand out, though, isn't the size of the event but the fact that, despite its growth, it still feels like it's run by people rather than a corporation.

At £75 for a weekend ticket and £100 for a ticket including Thursday entry, GemFest is remarkably affordable. Getting there is straightforward too, with shuttle buses from the nearby train station, parking close to the campsite and a compact site that means you're rarely walking for long. With car parking a three-minute walk from the entrance and the campsite barely further than that, the camping trolley felt a little silly when transporting across such small distances

That compactness turns out to be one of GemFest's biggest strengths. Ten stages spread across a relatively small footprint means jumping between UKG, jungle, disco, techno and drum and bass never feels like a logistical challenge. Unlike larger festivals where moving between stages can feel like an expedition, GemFest encourages wandering.

Other festival formats can span a far larger area, this is often required from a capacity perspective and to reduce noise bleed so it’s an understandable trade-off. It can often feel like it’s hard to move mates between stages, so you often stay around a general area rather than having the same freedom to explore like I felt at GemFest. 

The programming reflects that same independent spirit. Thursday, often treated as little more than an arrival day elsewhere, felt fully alive. Every stage except the main 24Karat arena was already operating, giving early arrivals a genuine festival experience rather than a warm-up session.

The breadth of programming was impressive. IMANU packed out the A-Frame stage to the point it arguably outgrew the space, while Barghain offered a darker, more intimate alternative for techno fans.

One of the weekend's best moments came during Switcharoo's set at Suffolk's Salty Seaside stage. The crowd grew so large that the venue went one in, one out. Hard luck for everyone waiting, as the set was bouncy and completely impossible to walk away from.

Half the point of a multi-genre festival is this: stumbling into a room with no prior knowledge of who's playing and leaving an hour later, loading up the app to figure out who you just saw. With a lineup that offers up smaller artists on the earlier days in the festival during the afternoon/early evening it offers DJs a fantastic platform to be discovered. The layout with some stages just being sound systems put in key locations meant that you often saw people walk past a stage and stop to join in. 

Sunday was my favourite day, I took it easy on Saturday, with the heat and exhaustion sending me back to my tent frequently for a rest. 24Karat felt on fire, with Bakey, Oppidan, and Window Kid who bought out a ton of MCs to deliver an excellent secret set you had to be there for. It also delivered one of those moments you couldn’t plan, as during Faster Horses' set, light rain arrived at exactly the right moment to break the oppressive heat that had dominated the weekend.

The atmosphere was incredibly positive, I actually got to speak to the famous Gemma of GemFest who the festival was originally a birthday for to pass on my positive thoughts of the festival and the great work that Pull Up Recordings is doing. The crowd did sometimes feel incredibly drug heavy at certain stages, but from camping with all girls none of them reported any harassment or weirdness. The themed day of “Jungle is Massive” was excellent as well, I never thought I’d see a guy wearing a full ghillie suit in 26c weather take a hit of his vape and it all pour out of the suit. 

It's in moments like these that GemFest's independent roots become most visible. A group of friends runs the festival, and that comes through in both the atmosphere and the way the organisers communicate. They regularly share behind-the-scenes updates and appear genuinely engaged with feedback. The evidence suggests they're listening too. Toilet provision, one of the most common criticisms of previous editions, had already been expanded for 2026.

That doesn't mean everything works perfectly.

Bag searches between the campsite and arena were inconsistent, creating confusion about what rules were actually being enforced. Bar service was quick and pricing held up well. A double vodka and mixer at £9.50 is fair for a festival in 2027. Food was a different story at peak times, with queues stretching up to 45 minutes at the busier stalls. The taco stand from Gourmet Warriors was worth every minute of waiting, though three visits in, I may have been part of the problem. I didn’t meet one person who had any bad food, they offered such a great variety as well. Long-drop toilets deteriorated as the weekend progressed, becoming one of the festival's weakest points by Sunday as the lack of bog roll and the heat combined to make them the worst place to be. 

The VIP upgrade was also difficult to justify. For £45 extra, limited toilet provision and hot water shortages meant it never felt like a meaningful improvement over standard camping.

Leaving the site was also a struggle; we used the pick up point but the one-way system developed was quickly abandoned either by punters or by security that were trying to manage the huge queues from the parking area further along the pick up point where the coaches also operate from. I’d recommend packing up and leaving early to beat the heat and the queues. 

There's also a broader question around sponsorship.

Zyn and Veev maintained a significant presence on site, with free samples distributed and branding visible across the festival. I’ve spoken previously about nightlife having these brands break in to position themselves as part of the scene here. These were offered to anyone, which sits awkwardly against the brand's own stated position that their products should only be used by existing nicotine users. It’s likely to me that GemFest relied on this heavy sponsorship with Zyn running one of the stages to help deliver the festival financially.

All festivals have sponsors with some being more egregious than others, this did feel more stripped back in comparison to other festivals and plenty have heavy alcohol sponsorship which has its own effects as well. It’s a compromise we may have to face, as we’ve covered previously, nightlife is not the most profitable business and it may be better to view it as these brands subsidising great events for us to head to.

Those compromises are part of the challenge facing any growing independent festival. GemFest still has rough edges. Some infrastructure needs improvement. VIP needs rethinking. Certain operational decisions need tightening up. But it's easy to forgive this diamond in the rough, because those flaws feel easier to forgive, because the festival retains a sense of identity.

At a time when many events can feel increasingly standardised, GemFest still feels personal. It's affordable, musically adventurous and clearly shaped by people who care about the experience they're creating. If GemFest maintains this, balancing capacity with an increasing number of stages that help replicate those small room feelings, this is going to be a festival to keep your eye on for many years to come. 

For now, it's an easy recommendation and a welcome reminder that bigger isn't always better. GemFest is a diamond in the rough, and it's well worth experiencing it for yourself.

Here I am again, wading through the tides of good music events to bring you... whatever you would bring out of a tide. I ran out of metaphor, forgive me.

Multi Multi is probably the pick of the weekend's events, although I won't be going myself. Dar Disku, inda Flo, Madelic and SecretSundaze are just a couple of excellent DJs on an incredible lineup. So, that's your Saturday sorted. There are other options: I'll probably be going to see Anyma on Silverworks Island, but tickets are £80 and hard to get, so I've not recommended it here.

Friday is a little more complicated. Both Nan's Basement and Dancing Circles are going to be phenomenal events and I'm working out how I'll juggle both. I'm feeling a little run-down by the heatwave so I'm not sure if I'll make it to either, but every Nan's Basement is a good event and I've been eagerly awaiting the return of AM since last December, so I'm not even going to recommend any other shows for Friday. Pick one, full send it.

Sunday is a bit quieter. Shy FX is a must-see if you've not yet seen him play. If that isn't your sort of music, Canning Town still has the answer as Star Lane has a 7am to 3am Techno marathon with Just For Fun 3.

Friday

• Nan's Basement 2nd Birthday: Better with Age (Free Party) Two Tribes Campfire
• AM presents: Dancing Circles Last Arch

Saturday

• Secretsundaze presents: Multi Multi 2026 (Day Party) Hackney Wick
• Donato Dozzy, Wata Igarashi, DJ Maria, Radioactive Man (Live), Bobby Fabric
• Bloom Ldn: Ø [Phase], Amotik, Burden, Desireè Gaffe

Sunday

• Shy FX 'Keep On Skankin' Open Air Day Party The Cause
• JFF - Just For Fun 3 - 20h Marathon

Everything else

• A Guy Called Gerald is at The Old Blue Last on Thursday, if you want a dose of old-school acid.

• Shout out to the absolute icon at the front of Warm Up this week who turned to someone chatting to her and said: "who the fuck wants to talk about love at Warm Up?"
• Purple Disco Machine is taking a month-long hiatus from touring after revealing he's suffering from severe tinnitus and hearing loss. He'll be back at it again from mid-July. A good reminder to buy yourself a pair of earplugs if you haven't yet.
• Stubhub has been ordered to refund 50,000 customers and pay a £900,000 fine because of drip pricing. Drip pricing, which is essentially sneaking extra costs into ticket prices so they're not obvious at the initial point of purchase, was banned in 2025.