Cotton Fest 2025: A Celebration of Culture or a Crisis of Identity?
Cotton Fest has long been more than just a music festival. It’s a cultural phenomenon. Since its inception by the late Riky Rick in 2019, the University of Cotton Fest has captured South Africa’s imagination – providing a dynamic platform for music, fashion, art and self-expression. It’s no surprise that it has grown into a staple on the music calendar, attracting thousands of cotton eaters from across the nation every year.
This year was no different in terms of anticipation. However, attending for the first time, I found myself asking a tough question: Is Cotton Fest still a Hip Hop event, or has it quietly morphed into something else altogether?
Let’s unpack the highs, the lows, and the identity crisis that played out at Cotton Fest 2025.
Cotton Fest Still Pulls a Crowd — No Matter What
Despite tough economic conditions and unpredictable weather, Old Park Station in Newtown, Johannesburg was buzzing with energy on festival day. The venue was packed to capacity, proving that Cotton Fest still knows how to pull a crowd.
With acts like Kabza De Small, DJ Zinhle, and A-Reece headlining, it was no surprise that tickets sold out well ahead of time. The atmosphere was electric, the sense of anticipation almost tangible.
But if you looked closely, it was clear that many in the crowd weren’t necessarily here for Hip Hop. The shift in audience made certain moments feel flat, especially during sets by some of our most talented rappers.
The Performances: Moments of Magic, Moments of Missed Connections
While the crowd was charged with energy, the sets themselves were a mixed experience. A-Reece delivered a magnetic performance that reaffirmed his place among Hip Hop’s finest, while The Qwellers brought raw, electric energy to the Bunker Stage, thrilling the loyal few who gathered there. Yet, too often, the connection between artist and audience faltered.
Talented rappers found themselves pouring their energy into a crowd distracted by genre crossovers and side attractions rather than the music itself. It wasn’t a lack of skill — it was a lack of collective focus. For a festival that once stood as a sacred space for Hip Hop, witnessing the disinterest was a gut punch. When Blxckie and Leodaleo lit up the stage with “Popolile” and half the crowd just stood there, lost and unmoved — you couldn’t help but wonder where the spirit had gone.
Drip Check: Fashion Still Runs the Show
One thing Cotton Fest attendees never fumble? Drip! From head-turning avant-garde fits to clean, considered streetwear looks, the style game was elite. It was clear that festival-goers saw Cotton Fest not just as a music event, but as a fashion runway too.
The kotini spirit Riky Rick championed lives on and it’s beautiful to see. This year’s looks were a full-circle tribute to his belief that fashion is its own language of self-expression.
Sponsors and Activations: Building a Festival Playground
Cotton Fest 2025 wasn’t just about the music. It was a brand playground — and honestly, some brands went off. Supported by big names like YFM, Coke Studios, Vuse, Flying Fish, Extreme Energy, NBA Africa, Jägermeister, and Youth X by Nedbank, the event grounds were filled with experiences beyond the stages.
Festival-goers could shoot hoops at the NBA stand, battle it out in gaming tournaments, customise merch at the Coke Studios zone, or chill at the Flying Fish chill lounges.
These activations added a rich layer to the festival experience, offering moments of fun, creativity, and brand freebies between sets.
If anything, the commercial partnerships showed that Cotton Fest is more than a music event — it’s a lifestyle event. The problem? That lifestyle is beginning to blur the lines between what Cotton Fest was meant to stand for and what it has now become.
The Elephant in the Room: Is Cotton Fest Still a Hip Hop Festival?
Let’s be real: Cotton Fest 2025 didn’t feel like a Hip Hop event. From the beginning, Cotton Fest was positioned as a celebration of Hip Hop — a home for the cool kids, the cotton eaters who lived and breathed the culture. But this year, there was a noticeable lean towards Amapiano and other genres that, while undeniably huge and culturally relevant, felt out of place considering the festival’s roots.
Three stages — the Cotton Stage, The Lot, and The Bunker — aimed to offer variety. But even The Bunker Stage, which traditionally leaned toward Hip Hop, didn’t seem to capture the crowd’s attention. In fact, many performances were met with half-hearted energy, with people filtering out in search of the next DJ set.
It’s fair to ask: Has Cotton Fest lost its soul?
The Lineup: A Missed Opportunity
One of the biggest disappointments this year was the lineup. It just didn’t represent the essence of the festival. When you don’t see heavyweights like Emtee, Nasty C, and Maglera Doe Boy on the lineup, you already know the vibes are in danger.
Even names who’ve been pushing boundaries such as The Big Hash, Tyson Sybateli, and Mochen were missing. It felt like a glaring gap, as if Hip Hop was an afterthought at an event that should have been its playground.
Why does this matter? Because Hip Hop isn’t just another genre. It’s a culture — a movement that shapes language, fashion, art, and mindsets. When a festival born out of love for Hip Hop sidelines the very artists who keep the culture alive, it chips away at its credibility.
Amapiano Takeover: Lovely Genre, Wrong Platform?
Let me be clear: I LOVE Amapiano. It’s a genre that has given us iconic moments and made dance music fun again.
But at Cotton Fest? I need it in doses.
The sheer volume of Amapiano sets made it feel like a Piano festival with Hip Hop thrown in here and there for “representation.”
And while Amapiano deserves all its flowers, Cotton Fest was supposed to be our moment — a Hip Hop showcase that reminds the world of our talent, our voices, and our culture.
Balance matters. When the main stage becomes a Piano parade and Hip Hop gets relegated to side acts, you have to ask if the heart of Cotton Fest is still beating in the same way.
The Bunker Stage: A Sad Reality Check
From what I’ve heard from regular Cotton Fest attendees, the Bunker Stage has always been the place where Hip Hop heads could lose themselves in bars, beats, and chaotic moshpits. But this year? The crowd barely stuck around.
Even for acts like The Qwellers — who, by the way, bodied their set — the turnout wasn’t at full capacity. Their performance kicked off while A-Reece was still on the main stage, all the way across the venue, forcing those of us loyal to Hip Hop to make a mad dash if we wanted to catch both. It felt disjointed, almost like the festival wasn’t designed with Hip Hop loyalty in mind anymore.
So, What Needs to Change?
First and foremost, Cotton Fest needs to pick a lane. Trying to please everyone has left the event feeling like it’s floating in no man’s land.
Is it a Hip Hop event? A multi-genre youth festival? A lifestyle expo? Right now, it’s giving “confused.” And that’s dangerous for a brand built on authenticity.
Of course, I understand that music festivals need to be profitable. Commercial success matters.
But culture must never be sacrificed on the altar of commercialisation.
Cotton Fest 2026 needs a hard reset — a re-commitment to the culture that birthed it. Give us a lineup that mirrors the state of South African Hip Hop. Give us stages where lyricists, trappers, conscious rappers, and new wave kids feel celebrated, not sidelined. Create space for other genres, sure, but not at the cost of the festival’s DNA.
I shouldn’t be ducking King Oumar’s set (or whatever that was at the Bunker Stage) only to land in the middle of a Makhadzi performance on the main stage — with all due respect to her talent.
The identity of Cotton Fest should be sharp, unapologetic, and fiercely loyal to Hip Hop. Anything less just feels like a betrayal to the culture it was built on.
Cotton Fest 2025 reminded me of just how powerful this movement still is — and how fragile it can become when its heart is neglected.
The turnout, the fashion, the community spirit: all still alive. But the musical soul? Flickering dangerously.
For the sake of the culture, for the sake of Riky’s legacy, I hope the organisers find the courage to bring it back home.
Otherwise, we risk losing Cotton Fest to the very forces it once stood proudly against.