Every August, Obuda Island in Budapest comes alive with the sound of music, art, bands, artists and devoted fans. This is the Sziget Festival. Over the years, much of it has remained unchanged, except perhaps the devoted fans. They’ve either gone, or are looking elsewhere.

A few years back, major corporations and brands discovered the power of this festival and its ability to attract and sustain a large fan base, consistently. This fan base satisfied some demographic criteria and so made sense to the marketing brains in these companies. So off they went, with check book in hand, willing to help make Sziget a bigger success story; and in so doing, proceeded to ruin one of the most enjoyable experiences in Central Europe.

Visitors to Sziget would look forward to the atmosphere there as much as the actual event. Physically in the city, yet mentally not a part of it; Sziget permitted visitors to immerse themselves in their specific interests, in-depth. Tents for performing arts, jazz, painting, hand-made jewellery, theatre etc. provided visitors a well-rounded cultural experience. Indeed visitors could customise and make their Sziget experience unique to their tastes. All this without a brand logo in sight.

This went on for several years, till big money discovered Sziget. Big money usually helps such events, or that is the belief. With ready access to funds, organisers can attract better talent, produce a bigger event, arrange better facilities, and provide a better experience. This did not happen with Sziget.

The focus shifted to music. With sponsorship money, bigger and more popular bands were signed on. Ticket prices went up. Food and beverage prices increased to a point where now water is three times as expensive as beer. And no, you can’t bring in your own water supply! Commercial motives have not allowed for the importance of consumer experience.

Thirty years back, a cinema in South Delhi would screen Woodstock – the film about the festival – every year. It always drew a huge audience. Largely the same people who wanted to experience the atmosphere and the music of an iconic event. There was a sizeable contingent from Delhi University, and I was always there. There were no announcements, no advertising, no big brands. Only a poster with the dates of screening. We all knew when it was due and we’d be there. Our experience was special, our own; we looked forward to it and big brands respected that sanctity.

Corporate sponsorship and big money isn’t always bad news. Sports sponsorship is a case in point. There are ludicrous examples where the sponsor’s logo is bigger than the national emblem, or where the sportsman looks like a walking billboard. True enough. But sponsorship money has led to bigger stadia, better training facilities, more participation, and rising standards. Barring the occasional controversy, sponsorship has improved consumer experience, and the spectator has benefited.

In Sziget’s case, sponsorship has led to commercialisation, ruined consumer experience, and ultimately the brand itself. There are times when by sponsoring something, brands do not enhance consumer experience, but interfere with it. This is an example of brand intrusion, and it is counterproductive.

As a commercial undertaking however, the Sziget festival is thriving. It is now attracting more visitors from overseas, as evidenced by English language announcements on the public transportation network during the festival. So it’s in no imminent danger of disappearing from the cultural map.

But its loss of atmosphere, and the resultant mass of disappointed fans have led to other festivals opening up in Hungary. While not in the same league as Sziget – even in its simpler days – these festivals provide an alternate experience.

But it’s not and can never be the Sziget experience. Sadly, that’s lost forever.