Superstruct Is Playing the Victim
Following months of virtual silence, the UK-based festival giant has begun to loudly push back against its critics, denying their claims while simultaneously crying "cancel culture."
Cyberbullying is a serious problem. In 2024, the World Health Organization’s European office published a study saying that approximately 15% of school-aged children had reported being bullied online, and earlier this year, scientific journal BMC Public Health offered up an even more dire report, stating that more than half of the middle- and high-school students surveyed had experienced some form of cyberbullying.
But it’s not just kids who are suffering. Superstruct—which reportedly boasts a portfolio of more than 80 large-scale festivals and 200 smaller events, making it the second-largest festival promoter in the world—has also been subject to all sorts of what it sees as “harassment” this year, and it seems that the UK-based conglomerate is not going to take it anymore.
That was made abundantly clear in an interview that surfaced last week in Spanish newspaper El Mundo, a solidly right-wing publication that allowed an unnamed “high-level director” from Superstruct to share their thoughts on the critiques and boycott movements the company has faced throughout 2025. Those thoughts were almost shockingly unfiltered, as this person—who is apparently based in Spain—categorized “what’s happened with the boycott of the festivals [as] pure harassment and digital bullying,” and something that created “an unnecessary tension to comply with the agenda of certain movements.”
Conveniently, the Superstruct representative didn’t elaborate what “certain movements” meant, but considering that the critiques, protests and boycotts were almost entirely focused on the company’s relationship with KKR—a US-based, pro-Israel private equity giant with documented connections to fossil fuel extraction, weapons manufacturing, crowd-control technology and businesses that operate in the occupied West Bank—it sure does sound like this person was talking about the pro-Palestine movement. More specifically, they were probably referencing organizations like BDS and PACBI, which not only harshly criticized Superstruct and publicly called for a boycott of Barcelona’s Sónar festival, but also saw its guidelines repeatedly being referenced as part of protester demands.
The optics of a Superstruct director, who is almost surely a white European, casting aspersions on BDS—which is not only the largest Palestinian organization in the world, but a nonviolent initiative that’s been active for more than 20 years—aren’t great, but the festival conglomerate appears to have been consistently opposed to the initiative throughout the year. When the KKR-related critiques and boycotts were at their height in May and June, a rash of almost identically worded “ownership statements” from Superstruct-affiliated entities like Brunch Electronik, DGTL, Awakenings, Mysteryland, Milkshake, Vunzige Deuntjes, Zwarte Cross and Amsterdam Open Air (which has since scrubbed the statement from its website) all conspicuously failed to acknowledge BDS whatsoever. A stronger stance was taken by Superstruct properties Boiler Room and Mighty Hoopla, which both publicly pledged to follow BDS guidelines, but that was reportedly done in direct defiance of their bosses.
Superstruct may not want to talk about BDS, but one thing the company has proven remarkably willing to do is cast itself as a victim. That’s been a running theme throughout the year, as Superstruct properties have repeatedly stated that they have no direct connection to KKR and had no say when they became part of its massive portfolio. Pleading for sympathy, they misleadingly claim that “not one euro” of their revenue goes to KKR,1 casting themselves as unwitting bystanders in a situation that they too were horrified by. What these events and entities don’t mention, however, is that their directors / founders all voluntarily sold out to Superstruct during the past few years, exchanging their former autonomy for massive paydays.
That uncomfortable fact was also left out of the El Mundo interview, where the unnamed Superstruct representative decided to go on the attack, saying that this year’s boycotts were based on “pseudo investigations” and claiming that “the reality is that there’s no basis for what’s happened.” Inferring that KKR had been unfairly tarnished, they noted that the private equity firm is not included “in Amnesty International’s list of 150 companies” linked to the conflict in Gaza. Yet it’s not exactly clear what list they’re referring to; Amnesty International did in September publish a list of 15 companies “profiting from and fueling Israel’s mass atrocities,” but it was the UN Human Rights Office that recently named 158 companies “involved in Israeli settlements in [the] occupied West Bank.”
While it’s true that neither of those reports included KKR, the firm’s laundry list of ethically questionable investments wasn’t even acknowledged by the Superstruct rep, who also made sure to brazenly dismiss those opposed to the presence of investment capital in the cultural sector as “naive” and “romantics.” Touting a growth-first mindset, they asserted, “Although it seems like a lie, there are more people who want festivals as they are now,” and added that “If festivals were as shabby as they were 15 years ago, [Superstruct] wouldn’t be the power that it is today.”
What’s behind this bravado? The current ceasefire in Gaza, which has largely displaced the crisis from the daily news cycle, almost certainly has something to do with it. With social media’s—and, in turn, the public’s—attention increasingly shifting to other matters, it seems that Superstruct is either feeling confident about its future prospects, or simply sees now as a good time to start engaging in some serious reputational rehabilitation.
Addressing the matter yesterday on Instagram, Barcelona-based culture writer Frankie Pizá—who’s previously written extensively on the topic of Sónar and KKR—observed that private equity funds “prefer to present themselves as victims instead of explaining their business model; they dilute their errors instead of admitting to them, and list criticisms instead of contextualizing them.” Going further, he added:
When these entities find themselves in trouble (be it a media firestorm or the deterioration of their public image), the first thing they do is substitute the political for the psychological. Criticisms are transformed into “harassment,” complaints about ties to Israel become “confusion” and the artist cancellations are reduced to “digital noise.” There is not one phrase that addresses questions of governance, the concentration of power or real responsibility.
On its face, the idea that criticisms of Superstruct—a corporation that was acquired by KKR last year for €1.3 billion—amounted to “bullying” is patently ridiculous. But in a social and political climate where many have grown wary of social media pile-ons and the internet’s seemingly endless supply of hectoring scolds and (often anonymous) moral arbiters, Superstruct’s narrative is bound to find some level of traction, particularly among those who prefer to keep politics out of music or view festivals and the live music sector as little more than a source of escape and entertainment. It’s not a coincidence that the unnamed director quoted in the El Mundo interview at one point described the boycotts as “cancel culture”; at this point, the term has become a veritable right-wing dog whistle, and by uttering it anonymously within the confines of a conservative, Spanish-language newspaper, they likely felt confident that they could do so without having to worry about significant pushback.
The online left, it seems, aren’t the only ones who demand a “safe space” to assert their views, and by strategically choosing when, where and how to comment, Superstruct has repeatedly managed to avoid anything resembling a real conversation with both the public and the press. The El Mundo interview wasn’t even the first time that someone from the company provided anonymous commentary to the media. Just last month, when Spanish newspaper La Vanguardia broke the news that Sónar’s founders had left the festival, an unnamed Superstruct source framed their departure as a “generational handover” and an “orderly and cordial transition” that had been planned all along. Last week’s conversation with El Mundo doubled down on that narrative, claiming that “nobody had fired [the Sónar founders],” who “already weren’t directors” of the festival, but mere “advisors.” According to Superstruct, their exit had been in the works for years, and “had nothing to do with everything that’s happened.”
That narrative is rather hard to swallow,2 but given the recent silence of not just Sónar’s founders (who released only a vague press release announcing their departure), but the festival’s entire staff (which has so far refused to speak to the press, even on background), Superstruct is basically doing all the talking. Yet even as that talking takes on an increasingly shameless tone, it seems that fewer and fewer people are willing to counter Superstruct’s claims or demand actual accountability from its leadership. Aside from publishing the occasional KKR-related news story, both the mainstream press and the music press have generally shown little appetite for digging into Superstruct’s business practices, and the wider music industry has been even more silent on the matter. While artists do continue to boycott here and there, most industry professionals—managers, booking agents, publicists, promoters, programmers, etc.—have refrained from taking any sort of public position, leaving the door open to future collaborations with Superstruct and its expansive roster of events.
Over a long enough timeline, even the most objectionable business practices often become normalized in the music realm, which is perhaps Superstruct’s greatest advantage. In a culture of passive consumption and capitalized culture, where artistry is regarded by many as something largely disposable, concerns about the ethical ramifications of festival finances might get some folks (briefly) riled up on the internet, but they’re unlikely to form the basis of a sustained reform movement.
Yet for those seeking to dislodge Superstruct and other extractive, private equity-backed entities, there is a potential path forward. Money—and, more specifically, the loss of it—is essentially the only thing that can get a corporate actor to change course, and as it happens, it was that very thing which allowed a high-profile Superstruct festival to regain its independence last week. Hungary’s long-running Sziget, which was Superstruct’s first major acquisition in 2017, has officially departed the company’s portfolio, with ownership reverting to founder Károly Gerendai. From afar, it seems like a win for the little guy, even if the “little guy” in this case is a five-day event that last year drew 416,000 attendees, and Sziget is already leveraging the ownership change in the promo materials for its 2026 edition.
The behind-the-scenes machinations that led to that ownership change, however, say a lot more about how Superstruct does business, and where its real priorities lie. As reported by Hungarian outlet Index, Superstruct had previously decided to let its contract with the city of Budapest expire, citing multimillion-dollar losses during the past few years. Having already shuttered two other Hungarian festivals, VOLT and Balaton Sounds, Superstruct had elected to withdraw from the country entirely, leaving the fate of Sziget up in the air. In this particular case, the festival’s founder was able to step back in and reassume control, but as things stand right now, it’s unlikely that many other Superstruct events will have the same opportunity.
[Editor’s note: After this piece was first published, some additional digging revealed that while Karoly has purchased Sziget Zrt. (the local company that was set up to oversee the festival), he’s only managed to secure a 15-year licensing agreement for the brand rights of the event. Those will continue to be owned by Superstruct / KKR, and Karoly will pay them an annual licensing fee “based on a percentage of the current year’s revenue.” Long story short, Sziget may be more independent than it was before, but it’s not completely free of Superstruct / KKR’s clutches.]
Still, what happened with Sziget does reveal Superstruct’s Achilles’ heel: its susceptibility to financial losses. Unlike the cities that host the festivals in the company’s portfolio, Superstruct has no real sentimental ties to the events it oversees, and if enough consumers simply refuse to buy a ticket, it won’t be long before the bosses start to cut bait on their depreciating investments. It’s strange to think that the only way to “save” some of these events is to put their very survival at risk, but in a culture fueled by capital, the withholding of revenue is often the quickest and most direct way to instigate change. Call it a boycott if you like, or maybe just think of it as an enlightened form of consumer choice; Superstruct and their apologists are bound to keep calling it “cancel culture,” but if enough people join in and decide take their money—and, in the case of artists and other music professionals, their labor—elsewhere, the private equity sector will eventually have no choice but to listen.
Shawn Reynaldo is a freelance writer, editor, presenter and project manager. Find him on LinkedIn and Instagram—and make sure to follow First Floor on Instagram as well—or you can just drop Shawn an email to get in touch about projects, collaborations or potential work opportunities.
Superstruct has never provided any documentation to back this claim up, but even if it is true, it ignores the basic parameters of speculation and capital investment. Regardless of whether individual festivals send a portion of their revenues to Superstruct or KKR, those festivals have serious value, which is why they were acquired in the first place. Furthermore, if they do well, their value increases, which boosts the value of Superstruct’s portfolio, and KKR’s portfolio in turn.
Back in June, Sónar co-founder Enric Palau gave an interview in which he voiced a desire to return the festival to America and also commented on the venue-related challenges he was anticipating in 2026, when the event’s usual daytime locale will not be available. It’s unlikely he would have been concerned which such things if he already had one foot out the door, as Superstruct now claims.