I spent Saturday afternoon, the penultimate day of Butik festival, dancing on a boat slowly cruising down the River Soča, a vibrant emerald waterway that runs through western Slovenia. At the end of the trip, we piled onto a coach back to the Butik (pronounced "boutique") site. As the driver started the engine, a Slovenian with a bucket hat and a cheeky grin got on the microphone. "Welcome to the most beautiful country in Europe!" they yelled. "How do you like Butik?" Everyone cheered. "We're going to play some Slovenian music!" Out from the speakers blasted cheery folk full of horns and accordions. We all burst out laughing.

The River Soča

Butik takes place in Tolmin, a small town in northwestern Slovenia with a modest population of around 3,500. The town is surrounded by lush green mountains, and a 15-minute walk from the centre will get you to the clearing where the rivers Soča and Tolminka meet—Butik's turquoise heart. The festival, which has grown from 1,200 to 3,000 people since launching in 2019, celebrated its five-year anniversary in 2024. The event is run by a core team of five Slovenian friends—Romina Gerbec (marketing and communications), Gasper Sovdat (operations), Danjel Tomazincic (infrastructure) and Andraž Babic and Sasa Vujasinovic (programming)—as well as a wider team responsible for sound design (Žiga Okorn), lighting (David Andrej Francky) and finance (Aleš Rutar). Gerbec told me they hire as many local people as possible, wanting to use the festival as a platform for people to learn from and create new job opportunities.

"There aren't many places to learn in our small scene," said Gerbec, who herself learned the tools of the trade by working at other festivals. "I want to give a chance to the locals to show themselves and be credited under Butik. That will open up possibilities for them."

The heart of Butik in Soča Valley

The site has been hosting festivals for 25 years. From metal and punk to reggae and now Butik's rabble of electronic heads, Tolmin has been privy to many different visitors. At one festival, 16,000 people descended on the town, which caused issues and led to stricter regulations. Until this year, the Butik team has had to apply for a licence each time, with no guarantee or security for the years ahead. In 2024, however, they reached an agreement with Alen Červ, the Mayor of the municipality of Tolmin, and their licence now extends until 2027. In its current format, Butik has three guaranteed events ahead before they next have to revisit their licensing. "We've worked really hard the last two years to make the best dialogue with the municipality," Gerbec said. "The mayor is motivated to find the best solution for everyone. It's very refreshing, you don't get that a lot in politics."

The negotiations with the local authorities include stipulations like locals having access to the beach for the duration of the festival, and setting up the stages in a way that controls the noise—no outdoor music after 1 AM, sound systems facing away from the river to avoid the sound ricocheting out of the valley and monitoring the noise levels in nearby villages. Despite the restrictions, the systems across the eight-stage site were excellent: crystalline and weighty but never too loud. The commitment to high-fidelity sound was such that, within five minutes of arriving at my first set of the festival (Call Super), a person with an iPad appeared next to me on the dance floor, monitoring and adjusting the bass, mids and treble on each of the speakers.

Call Super, Beach stage

Call Super—whose set travelled through Little Simz's Jakwob-produced "Mood Swings" to Pearson Sound's moody "Hornet" to speed garage—took place on the Beach stage, which was the jewel in Butik's crown. Three of the four outdoor stages were designed in a similar way—simple, cream canopy tents supported by wooden poles that melted into the natural surroundings. By night, the river and the trees glowed purple, luring people down to the riverbank to sit by the water's edge. By day, the sun shone down through the trees onto the dance floor, causing patterns of dust to appear above our heads. People lazed on the beach, splashed around in the sparkling clear water or held several inflatables together to form a raft of pals floating along the river.

Around the corner, next to sandy banks down to the water, was the smaller Garden stage, where local artists played to vibey crowds and had their sets filmed for The MUDD Show. By 2 PM on Friday, the dance floor was packed, getting down to Comfort Zone's groovy house. The duo, who played their first-ever back-to-back at Butik's first edition, wrote that every year the same people return to see them play again. Lottie, a 25-year-old artist based in Ljubljana who played later that evening with Lerro, mirrored this view when we spoke on Saturday night. This year was her second time playing Butik, and she recognised plenty of familiar faces.

"The crowd here is really supportive," she said. "It really feels like they're saying, 'Hey, thank you for what you're doing.' I think Butik will become an anniversary for the people that we meet here, somewhere to forget all the things that we're worrying about, have fun and explore the music. I just love it."

Lottie at Garden stage

This year, Butik welcomed attendees from more than 50 countries, and boasted a lineup that was almost 50 percent Slovenian. In the past, Gerbec and Babic told me, Slovenia had a more vibrant scene with clubs like Ambasada Gavioli and artists like DJ Umek and Valentino Kanzyani finding international fame. Today, the scene is super localised in the capital of Ljubljana, and gentrification has forced most of the clubs to close. It's more difficult than ever for artists to get bookings internationally. Slovenia's biggest city is home to less than 300,000 people, so artists living in smaller cities face huge barriers to entry if they want to start a party or play out.

"I think a lot of people underestimate the scene in ex-Yugoslavian countries," Babic said. "It's viewed as we have no talent, when on a country level, we have a lot of people that are so talented. Yet [Slovenian DJ] Mayell is one of the only artists with an agent and playing foreign gigs."

Unofficial parties, closed groups and illegal gatherings keep the scene going, Gerbec added, but while the scene is developing in its own way, there's still a lack of infrastructure. "And that doesn't just mean clubs," she said. "It's also that there are no agencies, no agents. We're such a small market."

Garden stage

For all the challenges, Butik provides an important and deserved platform for Slovenian artists, which is why retaining a large percentage of local talent, and scheduling them in key slots throughout the festival, is central to the way Babic and Vujasinovic approach bookings. "It wasn't so easy with international bookers to accept that some Slovenian artist who they don't know is going to play after a big star," Babic explained. "But now we've got more negotiation power. They trust us more so I'm able to give more of those opportunities."

The Berlin-based DJ and producer Ryan Elliott has played Butik three times, and the strong Slovenian presence across the team, the lineup and the crowd is one of his favourite aspects of the festival. "That's the big thing for me," he told me on the phone after Butik. "It really feels like Slovenia is involved in every way."

It's also the perfect size, Elliott added. "It's big enough to get lost in and have a really good festival experience, but it's also still pretty intimate." A short walk up from the beach takes you to the other stages. There's Forest, a tent nestled in the trees where some of the hardest, most mind-bending sets of the weekend went down, lit up by eight panels behind the booth displaying swirling geometric visuals. CCL and Objekt's back-to-back on Saturday night felt like a brain reshuffle—all hard turns and tunes that married density with exhilaration, such as Wordcolour's breathless remix of "DOH-T" by CoLD SToRAGE. Then there was the Tranquility Space, a small wooden stage, new for this year, from which artists played ambient sets to people sprawled on the grass or curled up in large hammocks and net trampolines.

CCL back-to-back Objekt, Tranquility Space

Due to Butik's 1 AM al-fresco curfew, the late-night programming all happened indoors. This posed a queuing problem when 3,000 people all wanted to move inside simultaneously, but once I was in, it felt like an entirely different festival. The beatific beachside Butik made way for four dark, sweaty rave caves. Inside the disused building that loomed over the site—which Gerbec said has had past lives as a hotel, student accommodation and casino—there were three rooms. The vibe reminded me of holiday park weekenders like Bang Face or Bugged Out!, where oddly patterned carpets and kooky furniture encourage a frenzied energy on the dance floor.

Casino stage

Then there was Hangar, where I ended up spending most of my time after 1 AM. My friend said the big, overgrown barn-like building, with its rectangular shape and LED strips down the middle of the ceiling, reminded him of legendary Amsterdam club Trouw. The lighting was excellent, with the technicians assigning a particular colour palette to each three-hour performance to magnify the atmosphere—Aurora Halal's spectral set was a rich blue, Mama Snake's breakneck techno was deep green, BASHKKA and Sedef Adasï got oranges and Roza Terenzi was all deep reds with white strobes and lasers.

"It's like a proper warehouse rave," Gerbec said about Hangar. "Last year I remember thinking, 'Is this really my hometown?!' And then I looked to my left and I saw some classmates from primary school raving. I could never have imagined that."

Roza Terenzi's set blew me away—to the point where I had to drag myself home when the music was still going strong past the 7 AM curfew. She unfurled four-plus hours of proggy house, techno, trance, electro and more, including Joy Orbison's "flight fm" (which I heard at least three times across the weekend), Wax Thief's "Top Killa" and TAAHLIAH's "Boys," during which someone behind me waved a big fan wildly in the air and shouted to their friend: "These vibes are ungodly!"

BASHKKA, Sedef Adasï and Roza Terenzi, Hangar stage

I was later grateful that I'd begrudgingly gone to bed, as Butik's last day was one of the best I've ever had at a festival. Babic had said the closing sets were special, but I wasn't prepared for how special. On Sunday, eight stages were reduced to one, and everyone came together one last time until around 7 PM. The early end time was all part of the intentional programming. Just like the first two nights had finished early to encourage ravers to get some rest, this way the festival ended on a sunkissed dance floor with the energy, as Babic put it, "at its best point."

Watching Eris Drew and Octo Octa play together is, as my friend said, something of a "spiritual awakening." In the sunshine, by the river, surrounded by trees and enlivened by everyone's delirious last-day energy, the vibe was spellbinding. Both DJs stood barefoot in the booth, playing a few records each in turn while helping the other see the grooves on the vinyl by creating shade with a big T4T LUV NRG fan. The river bank was covered in abandoned beach towels, as the pair's magnetism and ecstatic selections drew the entire festival together. As the trancey synths of Luna Eclipse's "The Return Home (Solar Mix)" rang out overheard, another friend turned to me and said, "This track feels in reverence of this space." Later, I spotted Gerbec and Sovdat going for it behind the booth with huge grins on their faces, watching as all their hard work floated towards a blissful conclusion.

At 8 PM, after Drew and Octo Octa had played for one euphoric hour longer than expected, we went for a swim in the river and listened to the sound of nature around us. It was refreshing to be able to quietly decompress after a set so compelling, rather than moving quickly to the next stage on your agenda or making your way home to bed. Just one of many thoughtful decisions that make Butik a very special place. "Butik was absolutely stunning in every way," CCL wrote later on Instagram. "So much thought and care put into everything. Huge respect." I returned home thinking the same thing.

Correction, July 17th: A previous version of this article named the Mayor of Tolmin as Uroš Brežan. The current Mayor is actually Alen Červ.

Update, July 18th: This article has been amended to include Aleš Rutar as a member of the Butik team.