Essex Recovery Festival + DJing: Spinning Tunes and Sobriety

The Essex Recovery Festival isn’t just an event, it’s a celebration, a community, and, frankly, a bizarrely beautiful cocktail of people who’ve seen life’s darker sides and are now living proof that second chances exist. And there I was, somehow DJing at this shindig, spinning tracks for a crowd that included everyone from newly sober teens to grizzled recovery veterans. Honestly, it was one of the most surreal, rewarding, and downright wicked experiences of my sober journey.

How I Got Here: From Chaos to the Decks

Before sobriety, my relationship with music was… complicated. Back then, music was often just a background to chaos, nights out that went too far, mornings I’d rather forget, and playlists that served as soundtracks to my worst decisions. Sobriety, however, flipped the script. Music became a lifeline, a source of comfort, and eventually, a passion I could throw myself into with a clear head and steady hands.

So, when I was asked to DJ at the Essex Recovery Festival, I didn’t hesitate. Sure, I was nervous—terrified, actually. But I knew this wasn’t just about spinning tracks. It was about giving back to the community that had given me so much.

The Day of the Festival

Walking into the festival, I was immediately hit by the energy. Picture a mix of laughter, live music, and the kind of chatter that only happens when people are genuinely happy to be alive. The crowd was a beautiful mess of people from all walks of life, some sober for years, others still finding their footing, and a few who were clearly there just for the music (and maybe a free coffee).

As I approached the stage, I had one of those “imposter syndrome” moments. What was I doing here? Did I even deserve to be part of something this amazing? But then I remembered: this wasn’t about being perfect. It was about showing up, being present, and sharing a bit of joy through music.

The Set: Beats and Breakthroughs

My set was a mix of drum and bass, and well, Jungle, I’d made on the day speaking to the people in the fesrival. I started with something upbeat, easing the crowd in with a track that had just enough bass to make your chest vibrate. And then… it happened. People started dancing. Not just swaying awkwardly, but dancing. Proper, unapologetic, let loose kind of dancing. It was sick.

It was electric. Every track I played felt like a conversation, a back and forth between me and the crowd. And for once, it wasn’t about being the center of attention. It was about connection, about creating a space where people could lose themselves in the music and, maybe, find a bit of themselves in the process.

Moments That Stuck With Me

• The Dance Circle: At one point, a group of people formed a dance circle in front of the stage. It started with a couple of brave souls, but within minutes, it had grown into a full-blown celebration. Watching them cheer each other on, I couldn’t help but grin. It was a reminder that recovery isn’t just about surviving, it’s about thriving.
• The Requests: I got a few song requests during my set, every one I couldn’t play because, well, I’m not a jukebox.
• The Conversations: After my set, people came up to chat, share their stories, and thank me for the music. One guy told me he hadn’t danced in years, not since before he got sober. “You brought me back to life today,” he said.

What the Festival Taught Me

The Essex Recovery Festival wasn’t just a gig, it was a reminder of why sobriety in the first place. It showed me that recovery isn’t just about staying sober, it’s about finding joy, building community, and creating moments that remind you why life is worth living.

Final Thoughts: Spinning for Sobriety

DJing at the Essex Recovery Festival was more than just an experience, it was a turning point. It reminded me that music has the power to heal, to connect, and to bring people together in ways that words often can’t. And as I packed up my gear and headed home, I couldn’t help but feel grateful, not just for the festival, but for the journey that had brought me there.

Aaron Mouland

Quit drinking on 23 July 2021 after a two-day bender and swapped bars for border crossings and 12-step meetings. Three sober years, 36 countries, 113 travellers (totally dry), fuelled by street food, jelly babies, and a broken Google Maps app. Wandersober is my journal, my SEO lab, and my mission. Featured in GQ, Mirror, Evening Standard, MarketWatch, and more.

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