The Lebanese flag waving among the dense crowd at the Lost Frequencies concert at the Byblos Festival on Friday, August 8. Press Photo Agency
The Byblos International Festival came back this August after a six-year hiatus, reclaiming its place as one of Lebanon’s cultural landmarks. On the way there, the summer traffic crawled along the coastal road, the asphalt shimmering in the sticky August heat. What should have been an hour felt like an eternity.
The old port of Jbeil opened before me like a stage set in two worlds, ancient stone glowing under yellow lights on one side, the endless black stretch of the Mediterranean on the other.
The Byblos Festival had transformed the waterfront into a massive open-air arena built directly above the sea, steel pillars holding us between history and water. Silent since 2019 due to economic collapse and the pandemic, this summer’s revival declares that music still belongs here, between ancient stone and restless sea.
The arena was a city within the city: the smell of shawarma, grilled corn and pizza stalls filled the air. Almaza beer bottles beaded with condensation at crowded stalls, neon glasses pulsed with shifting colors.
As the first DJ took the stage, teens posed for photos, couples leaned on railings and fathers lifted their daughters to catch the first glimpses of the show.
A night born from anticipation and heat
A cloud of white smoke curled across the stage, and from a hidden lift, Lost Frequencies rose – silhouetted, elevated, backlit against the haze. The opening beat of “Black Friday” hit like a wave.
Saad, 20, shouted over the music: “Lost Frequencies, you are one of my favorite childhood artists!” When asked, he said: “I grew up listening to Lost Frequencies, the concert is the perfect blend of nostalgia and joy.”
It had been eight years since the DJ’s last Lebanese show, at the American University of Beirut in 2017. Years of border closures, financial collapse, and the pandemic made his return feel like a reconnection.
“I remember you,” he told the audience between tracks. “You’re the life of the party.”
Fire, glitter, and the sea’s pulse
From “Are You With Me” – with glitter cannons showering stardust – to synchronized fire bursts warming our faces, every track was a spectacle. “Where Are You Now, Sweet Disposition, Crazy” – all delivered without pause, met with roars. The steel groaned beneath thousands jumping in unison – a reminder we were literally dancing over the sea.
Sarah, 24, swayed nearby. “It’s been so long since I felt this free,” she said. “We needed this. Not just music – something that makes you feel alive again.”
When the final beat faded and smoke drifted over the Mediterranean, the heat, traffic, and long drive felt irrelevant. And yes, it was worth every minute of the drive.
