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Akron DJs Face Creative Storm at Cleveland's Hurricane Festival

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  //humor-quirks.news-articles.net/content/2025/12 .. ive-storm-at-cleveland-s-hurricane-festival.html
  Published in Humor and Quirks on Wednesday, December 3rd 2025 at 6:49 GMT by Cleveland.com

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Akron DJs Tangle with Hurricane, Results in a Deeply Personal Storm

The Cleveland‑area arts community was buzzing this past weekend, not just because of the usual lineup of experimental theatre and indie‑rock showcases, but because a group of up‑and‑coming DJs from Akron found themselves in an unexpected—and deeply personal—situation that has set off a quiet conversation about creative pressure, mental health, and the power of community. The story, which unfolded at the city’s most ambitious weather‑themed music festival—known simply as Hurricane—is now the centerpiece of a recent Cleveland.com arts feature that explores what happens when art and reality collide.

The Artists at the Heart of the Storm

The two primary figures in the story are DJ‑pair Ricky “Rico” Reed (aka Rico Rumble) and Tessa “Tide” Jones (known online as TideTrack). Both hail from Akron’s vibrant underground scene. Rico began spinning in local college dorm rooms, experimenting with hip‑hop and break‑beat loops, while Tide grew up on the city’s industrial roots, developing a sound that blends gritty techno with soulful R&B vocal samples. Together, they’ve been producing under the moniker Kilo Zephyr for the past two years, gaining a loyal following in both Akron and the wider Ohio valley.

“Kilo Zephyr is less about the labels and more about the mood,” Tide explains. “We want people to feel like they’re being carried by a breeze, or caught in a storm.” Their track “Midnight Gale”—the pair’s breakout single—recently hit the top of the local college charts and caught the attention of Cleveland’s indie music press.

The Hurricane Festival: A Weather‑Themed Stage

The Hurricane festival, a year‑long, rotating series of performances held in venues ranging from the historic Agora to the downtown ArtHouse, is a niche but growing event that celebrates artists who incorporate natural elements into their work. The festival’s 2025 edition promised a “tide‑turning showcase” that would push the boundaries of electronic music. For Kilo Zephyr, the invitation seemed like the perfect fit.

The festival’s curatorial team, led by Cleveland artist and producer Mariana “Storm” Delgado, had reached out to Kilo Zephyr months in advance to discuss a possible collaboration. Delgado’s own project, Tempest, is a multimedia exploration of climate change that uses music, light installations, and spoken word. She wanted Kilo Zephyr to co‑create a live performance that fused electronic beats with a projected storm‑simulation on a LED wall.

The Tangle

In the weeks leading up to the festival, the partnership seemed promising. Rico and Tide spent countless late nights in their shared Akron studio, looping beats while Delgado’s team filmed the storm visuals. But as the festival date approached, the project’s scope shifted dramatically.

Delgado announced a last‑minute change: the duo would be required to perform at the Hurricane main stage, accompanied by a full orchestra, and incorporate a 10‑minute spoken‑word interlude about “human resilience in the face of climate catastrophe.” Kilo Zephyr, whose strengths lie in improvisation and club‑style production, found the new direction at odds with their artistic identity.

“I was excited about collaborating with Storm, but then I heard about the orchestra and the spoken word,” Rico confides. “It felt like a different language, and suddenly we were being asked to do something that didn’t feel authentic to us.”

The disagreement escalated over the next few days. The duo threatened to back out, citing concerns over creative control and the logistical burden of rehearsing with a full orchestra—a daunting task given their limited budget. Delgado, in turn, insisted that the project’s thematic core could not be compromised.

The tension came to a head on the day of the festival’s rehearsal. In a heated exchange, Tide slammed a stack of sheets of music onto the table, while Rico’s laptop crashed after a frantic attempt to sync their beats with the orchestral score. The argument was witnessed by several members of the festival staff and a handful of local press journalists.

The Personal Storm

The fallout from the confrontation was immediate and personal. Tide began to experience severe anxiety, describing the situation as a “mental hurricane” that left her feeling “adrift and alone.” Rico, on the other hand, felt a deep sense of betrayal—both by Delgado and, he admitted, by the expectations placed on the duo to fit into a narrative that didn’t reflect their lived experience.

The incident led to a pause for the duo. They withdrew from the festival’s final performance, a decision that shocked the audience and the organizers. The cancellation sparked a broader conversation on Cleveland.com about how the arts community can better support creators facing similar crossroads.

“Art is supposed to be a refuge, but sometimes the very expectations we set for ourselves become the storm that we have to weather,” Tide writes in an accompanying op‑ed that the article links to. The piece highlights the need for open dialogue between artists and curators, especially when projects cross artistic disciplines.

A Broader Conversation

The Hurricane incident has become a catalyst for a new conversation about mental health resources for artists. Cleveland’s Arts Council has announced a grant initiative—dubbed “The Calm After the Storm”—to fund mental‑health workshops and one‑on‑one counseling for local creators. The initiative is partially inspired by Kilo Zephyr’s experience.

Delgado, who has faced similar pressures in her own career, has spoken publicly about the responsibility of curators to listen to artists’ voices. In a subsequent interview with Cleveland Magazine, she admitted, “I got caught up in the vision and forgot to consider the human element.”

The article also references an earlier piece on Cleveland.com that detailed a successful collaboration between local musicians and the city’s community outreach program, which helped bridge the gap between performers and non‑profits. By linking to that story, the writer emphasizes that this new challenge is not an isolated incident but part of a larger pattern of evolving relationships between artists, venues, and audiences.

Looking Forward

Despite the setback, Kilo Zephyr has announced plans to continue their work together. They’ve secured a small studio in Akron, and are re‑examining their collaborative process. Rico has expressed interest in solo projects that delve into acoustic textures, while Tide is exploring spoken‑word pieces that reflect her personal journey through the “personal storm.”

“It’s a lot of work to rebuild trust—both within ourselves and with the community,” Tide says. “But it also opens the door for more honest, authentic collaborations.”

The Cleveland.com feature closes on a hopeful note, suggesting that the “personal storm” faced by the Akron DJs is a necessary catalyst for growth—both for them as artists and for the broader arts ecosystem. The story reminds readers that the most powerful music is often born not just in the studio, but in the turbulence of real‑world challenges, where personal insight and creative vision can merge into something truly transformative.