In recent months, Yarin Illovich, known to the world as DJ Artifex, has been on a whirlwind global tour, captivating audiences with his vibrant energy and unique sound. In September, he found himself in the United States, spinning tracks that echoed through packed venues. The month prior, he brought his beats to Brazil, and shortly after that, he hit the decks in Berlin. This international DJ's journey is not just about music; it's also a profound story of survival and resilience.
Illovich recently released his new track, "Cyber Fever," a celebration of a "magical world." As the opening lines suggest, it's about a realm that is "more colorful, more beautiful, more cheerful than reality." His performances are nothing short of electric, as he dances across the stage, igniting the crowd with his infectious enthusiasm. If you happened to see him perform without knowing his past, you might think he was just another artist living the dream. But beneath that joyful exterior lies a harrowing tale—a reality that few can fully comprehend.
One year ago, Illovich was caught in the middle of a terror attack during the Supernova festival in Israel, a tragedy that would change his life forever. On October 7, he became the last DJ to perform at the festival, bringing thousands of festival-goers together on a beautiful morning. Just before dawn, he had everyone dancing to the pulsing rhythms, unaware of the impending disaster that would unfold.
Reflecting on that fateful morning, Illovich described how special it was to perform at 5:35 a.m., as the darkness of night slowly transitioned into the light of day. "For me, that's something special, especially at a psytrance party," he reminisced. The genre, known for its up-tempo beats and ethereal sounds, perfectly matched the atmosphere as over 3,000 attendees danced in a beautifully decorated desert venue. The vibrant colors of the tents and the intricate decorations set the stage for what was meant to be a magical experience.
However, that magic was shattered just minutes after he started playing. Around 6:30 a.m., as the crowd was lost in the music, the first rockets launched from Gaza began to rain down. Illovich was oblivious to the danger at first, consumed by the adrenaline of performing. "When you're DJing, your body is filled with energy and adrenaline. You don’t feel anything but the dance floor," he explained.
Everything changed at 6:29 a.m. when one of the festival's producers urgently whispered in his ear, "Shut down the music!" Confused, Illovich replied, "Shut it down?" The producer's stern response made it clear that something was seriously wrong: "Yes, shut it down! We have Code Red." In an instant, the music stopped, leaving a bewildered crowd in silence.
The initial shock didn’t lead to panic. In Israel, rocket alerts are a common experience, and many festival-goers were calm at first. But as the situation escalated and hundreds of rockets were launched, fear began to take hold. Illovich found himself assisting a German friend who was in the throes of a panic attack. He helped her and others find safety, but as the chaos intensified, he made the fateful decision to stay at the festival site despite warnings from friends who were trying to escape.
At around 7 a.m., militants from Hamas, designated a terrorist group by several nations, including the U.S., infiltrated the festival grounds. Illovich and others sought refuge among parked cars, but the confusion and fear were palpable. "They’re shooting at us; people get shot and fall down," he recounted. Amidst the chaos, he supported a friend who was overwhelmed with fear, urging her to keep moving forward.
On that tragic day, more than 360 festival-goers lost their lives, and countless others were injured or taken hostage. Illovich managed to escape with a group of friends, making their way to a nearby kibbutz where police were desperately trying to fend off the attackers. For hours, he hid beneath a patrol car, listening to police radio transmissions that echoed the horror surrounding them. The sound of desperate pleas and the chilling realization that lives were being lost left a permanent mark on his psyche.
After what he described as an "apocalyptic" experience filled with images of devastation, he finally found safety. Yet, even in that moment of relief, the scars of that day lingered. In the aftermath, Illovich sought therapy weekly to process the trauma, but he soon discovered that music became his ultimate refuge. It was his "safe space," a place where he could reconnect with joy and healing.
The mantra that emerged from the survivors was simple yet powerful: "We will dance again." This phrase represents defiance, a refusal to let fear extinguish their belief in a magical, vibrant world. However, not all have found this path to healing. Reports of sexual violence and other atrocities emerged in the weeks following the attack, leaving many survivors grappling with profound depression and trauma. The psychological toll has been immense, with some turning to therapists in search of solace.
In the face of such tragedy, Illovich has taken to the stage once more, performing for the "Tribe of Nova," a community formed by the festival’s attendees who have united in their shared experiences of survival. They have come together to heal, practicing yoga, meditation, and music—activities deeply rooted in the ethos of psytrance culture, which draws from the spirit of the hippie movement.
Despite the turmoil surrounding the situation in Israel, Illovich remains focused on creating positive change. He has intentionally distanced himself from most political demonstrations, even while expressing his discontent with the current government. Keeping himself informed about the ongoing conflict and the hostages still in Gaza is a conscious choice, allowing him to maintain his mental health and stay focused on the future.
Illovich has no desire to be viewed as a victim; instead, he aims to be a beacon of hope and strength for others. He wants to provide a platform for fellow survivors to process their experiences and rebuild their lives. To honor those who lost their lives, he performs the same set he was playing when the chaos erupted, believing that completing that performance offers a sense of closure to many who were there that night.
"I play the music to its end, as it should have been in a different reality," he says, each note carrying with it the weight of remembrance and healing. This act not only reclaims his space but also signifies a collective act of resilience, reminding everyone that even in the face of unimaginable loss, the beat of life goes on.
DJ Artifex continues to be a symbol of survival, hope, and the indomitable spirit of a community that refuses to be defined by tragedy. With every beat, he invites everyone to remember that while the world can be dark, there's always the potential for light—an invitation to dance, to heal, and to believe in a brighter tomorrow.
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