Laneway 2026
Western Springs, Auckland, NZ
Thursday, February 5th
If you were one of the 40,000 people who took annual leave to attend yesterday’s Laneway show, you deserve an honourable mention. Dedication to a day this massive doesn’t come easy. With the festival’s biggest Aotearoa instalment yet, it was set to be an extravaganza.
With the last-ever Splore just around the corner for many festival-goers, a scarcity mindset was upon us. Marches of music fans flooded the streets around Western Springs, some even setting up stalls on the roadside selling Pink Pony hats, rainbow fans, and pink glasses. It was a carnival-like affair.
Girls were handing out pottles of glitter, painting each other’s bodies, signs of a sparkling music community. Eyelids shimmered with pretty pink pastels. It truly was a day for the girls and the gays.
While the crowd was still filtering in, at 12:35pm, Wellington’s own Lontalius opened the big day with a rather ambient aura, as the audience was yet to arrive. With a lousy five minutes between the gates opening and his set starting, most people only caught snippets from outside the barrier. A gentle reminder that Kiwi artists deserve more than the sun-drenched graveyard slots.
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Twenty-year-old 9lives brought early energy to the crowd like a shot of caffeine straight into the veins. He sipped his coffee in between his set — a necessity to survive such a colossal day. His afro bounced to every electronic beat, a huge grin on his face. He looked like he was having a good time, and as an artist playing Laneway for the first time, that’s really all that matters.
After a hard and fast dispersal, bodies began to fill the Everything Ecstatic stage for MOKOTRON. “Kia ora tātou,” he greeted the crowd, launching straight into tectonic drum-and-bass fused with transcendental te reo. Samara Alofa’s harmonies punctured the early afternoon air perfectly, while visuals of native flora illuminated the stage, transforming it into an immersive installation of Māori futurism.
Sub-woofing breakbeats reverberated through the main-stage speakers, submerging spectators in a subliminal, yet political, spirit. With eyes telescoping out of his head, “Fuck David Seymour,” he bellowed. “Fuck David Seymour,” the crowd chanted back. As he blew through his taonga pūoro, mimicking the sound of a tūī call, it felt as if the grass beneath us rose. This was the type of music trees danced to — music deeply rooted in Papatūānuku. Grabbing the mic one last time, MOKOTRON closed his set by reminding us, “Indigenous people should always be playing on Indigenous land.”
By 2pm, relief from the heat arrived at the lakeside HARIKOA stage, a shady haven for festival-goers. Wellington’s own Womb, a dream-pop trio, created a celestial atmosphere, bathed in a soft purple glow.
Soon after, Jensen McCrae took the stage in a plain black dress, a prelude to a rather yawn-worthy set. Her keyboardist’s buzz cut was the most visually interesting thing happening onstage. Like every other American who visits New Zealand for the first time, she did the classic, “How are you, Auckland? My name is Jensen McCrae, and I’ve never been here.” Her swaying, sing-along set landed somewhere between earnest and sedative — a sort of bootleg Taylor Swift energy without the hooks or the hysteria. People were checking their watches, and some were fully asleep under the shade. Her good-girl energy felt unmatched for this feral crowd.
By the grace of god, the effervescent BENEE took over. Somehow, the most aggressive mosh pit of the entire day belonged to her, with people pushing and shoving to see our Kiwi queen. She bounced across the stage in her plaid tartan mini skirt and fluffy BENEE boots, hair extensions trailing behind her. We were witnessing her in her new era, though she was still her kooky, quirky self, full of eccentricities and idiosyncrasies.
“So nice to be among the trees and the birds,” she said in her thick Kiwi twang. “I like the mild smell of duck shit. It’s charming.”
PinkPantheress bounced on stage for “Princess”, bringing her adorable energy, and the crowd completely lost their shit. This was a lucky feature for those who didn’t catch her set later due to the clash of acts.
“Jump Jump Muthafuckaaaa!”
The crowd echoed in unison: “lalalala, loooneleyy.” Looking up at the glowing green trees, you could see them going “lalalala” too.
No matter how big she gets, how many Coachella sets she plays, we all know BENEE is still that lonely girl from Grey Lynn at heart.
Geese came on early (very rare) to do a soundcheck — it felt raw and real, a rarity for an event like Laneway. One Geese fan summed it up: “This guy is Neil Young when he was 23. These guys are on the ground floor of greatness.”
Role Model fans, meanwhile, were crying over him. Literally. “I’ve loved him since 2018,” one teary-eyed fangirl said. His boy-next-door charm had the crowd choked up. It felt like witnessing a modern-day Elvis craze. “He’s so fucking hot!” a woman in the crowd gushed.
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Role Model really is the internet’s boyfriend. Everyone was waiting for Sally to come out. Who would she be? Of course — it was none other than BENEE. She came bouncing across, shaking her little ass once again, Role Model giving her a gentle kiss on the hand. “Sally, everybody. New Zealand’s finest,” he said, closing the performance.
As the night started to eclipse, so did the energy. Slow-moving bodies scattered about the crowd over by Yung Lean and Blade. Despite the flashy visuals, it felt slightly desperate. Only a few hands were lifted in the air. The Everything Ecstatic stage wasn’t very ecstatic, a rather disappointing response to one of the world’s most influential figures in the early cloud-rap era.
Reaching the breaking point, people had maxed out. The overall collective crowd was limp — nothing more than deflated balloons scattered across the ground, like confetti left over after a show had ended.
Credit: @raganhenderson
But this confetti could be picked up and put back in for the exploding cannonball that is the one and only Chappell Roan. She had pure creative licence to turn this night into a carnival.
Her enchanted world took up the entirety of two whole stages. Chappell’s castle set was a spectral display of carnival-like theatrics. Gracing the stage in utter grandiloquence and green visuals, this was the performance we’d been patiently holding our breath for.
Matching the fairy-floss skies behind her, she fluttered across the stage in butterfly-adorned costumes. With each song she sang, she peeled off another layer, revealing a newer, sparklier outfit.
In honour of Auckland Pride Month, you couldn’t ignore that this was a queer-focused festival. “I’m so happy this is a community that accepts and values queer people,” Chappell said. “And happy Pride!”
