bReview: Laneway Festival 2026

bReview: Laneway Festival 
Thursday 5 February 2026 at Western Springs
Written by Sofía Kent
Photography by Milad Asadi

I was 17 and desperate when I attempted my first Laneway experience: the illusive festival with stacked lineups of niche-ly adored artists from across the globe and close to home. Soured by a not-so-real id dampened my nerve to meet the gates of Albert Park where the infamous venue would have its last humble hurrah. 

These days, we know Western Springs as the new home to the festival. A sprawling venue of open grass fields, and a speedway, set upon the undulating topography of West Tāmaki Makaurau. In its third year, the belly of the beast has birthed home to swamps of up to 30,000 people wriggling in to see the current A-rotate artists featured on their playlist. 

My non-existent experience with the illusive B.W.S. Laneway ushers me to an optimistic lens: one not yet dampened by the glitter of the past. The present that sees people flocking together with their common interests of tunes and a happy kanikani that can make even the most nihilistic boomer at the bar crack a smile. The intentions for the crowd can be best described by the 4 saccharine optimistic stage names: to see “Good, Better Best,” to “Never Let It Rest”, for “Everything Ecstatic”, and to be “Harikoa”.  

Breaking open the festival, local post-punk quartet Ringlets christened the Harikoa (joy) Stage set next to the Western Springs lake. With each set having allotted time slots of just 45 minutes, the sardonic lyricism of Ringlets sought to capture the burgeoning energy of the day to come. ‘Quick, say something profound’.

Pouring out from the heart of the venue comes a voice that sirens me like a mad-man to its source. You only have to come into earshot to recognise the insurgent bass belonging to MOKOTRON (Ngāti Hine, Ngāpuhi) and serenading vocals of Samara Alofa (Ngāti Awa, Vailoa Palauli, Ha’apai). Up on the Everything Ecstastic stage, I was exactly as the name prophesied. Alofa performed the 2025 Pollyhill/Samara Alofa track Home, remixed by MOKOTRON. The knowing listeners in the crowd danced, elated. Alofa remained on stage throughout providing vibes and mana, as MOKOTRON came down in thunder with track KO WAI KOE ‘who’ [the fuck] ‘are you?’, backed by visuals from Simon Ward.

The whakaaro was clear in MOKOTRON's gentle simmering wiri and adept skill of taonga pūoro. It was clear as a chant began: “FUCK DAVID SEYMOUR” over song REO TŌTAHI. Originally meaning lightning (strike) to electricity/electric shock: Hiko, is the word bestowed upon Maori electronic music. As the word itself transmutes with the passing of time, Hiko music dips between different realms like the Piwakawaka. To look forward is to also look back just as pulsating 808 bass and Koauau meet to create the future. The sweet song of the pūtōrino to the melodica showcased MOKOTRON’s ranging intimate knowledge of wind instruments. The end of set saw him decry "Indigenous people should always be performing on indigenous land”; MOKOTRON's presence was a vital force in the midst of the international line. 

(MOKOTRON & Samara Alofa at Laneway / Photo: Milad Asadi)

Popping over to the shady stage where we first started, Te Whanganui-a-Tara sibling band WOMB create emotional synth swells to an entranced audience. Vocals from Cello Forrester hit moments of intentional desperation before returning into sweetness as instrumentals take hold. The crowd sits along the lining of the trees while an intimate standing audience gently sways.  This is WOMB’s gift to us: music that allows us to be simple as we are. My thoughts couldn’t help but return to thinking of what an ideal acid dropping soundscape WOMB were creating before my own eyes. 

The 4pm acts of Alex G and Oklou divide their mutual listener base like a parent having to choose their favourite child. I head to Oklou whose 2025 debut album choke enough birthed a rapid fanbase. She gets straight into her set with the self-confessed favourite song of her own, ‘Obvious’ followed by ‘Take Me By The Hand’, a song featuring Bladee who was also on the lineup to come. I am reminded of the Lily-Rose Depp-esque charm of French allure as someone in the crowd sighs “she’s cool as fuck”. Heads bop to avant-pop as Oklou climbs a tiered stage covered in a white sheet. It was a performance I could see happening in the middle of a runway a’la FKA Twigs at Valentino. 

Down at the main stage Lucy Dacus is wooing an audience very much in love with her already. With a full band at the helm, Dacus knows her craft to the point of comfortability as she walks around stage with a ceramic cup of tea. Down the venue, Geese performed in a haze of the west-setting sun illuminating the band like a halo. The Brooklyn-neighbour-kids-from-down-the-block band enjoyed the tailwind of growing fans as they rocked the stage. Frontman Cameron Winter’s solo show the night before didn't quell the fizz of energy from the crowd. 

En route to the next act, I took a pit stop to see UK royalty Pink Pantheress who came fresh off her grammy nomination for Best Dance/Electronic album. Pantheress brought refreshing musical theatrics to the stage with back up dancers reinforcing her satirical demurity. My friends and I turn into gleeful kids sharing “oh my gods” and screams at current hit songs like ‘stateside’. Turning around to leave, I was faced with the grandeur of Western Spring’s audience capacity with a crowd that was increasing by the second, leaving no room for doubt of her popstar appeal.

UK Band Wet Leg was next. I first saw Wet Leg at the humble venue The Tuning Fork following their self-titled debut in 2022. Their off-putting nature was what drew me into them; feeling at home in the feminine led narrative of sexcapades and oddities. The once duo, now band, has evolved their dynamic, setting a clear path for a frontperson to take the helm of performance, Rhian Teasdale sang without fault but I missed the freak I thought I once knew as each song hit the same chord, comfortable within its boundaries. Songs from 2025 album moisturiser unraveled queer relationships and the joy of falling in love: to put simply Teasdale belts /i’ve never been/ I’ve never been / I’ve never been / so deep in love/. The hit song, Chaise Lounge, from the debut album receives the biggest reaction from the crowd and I catch a knowing smile from co-founder Hester Chambers on the guitar. 

(Wet Leg at Laneway / Photo: Milad Asadi)

Filled to the brim of musical acts I sped-walk somewhat desperately to catch the Swedish takeover. Yung Lean & Bladee come on strong with 2024 I DON’T LIKE PEOPLE and the I am won over by a mosh that immediately starts stinking of durries. Lean & Bladee perform a balancing act of songs from their 2024 collaborative album Psykos and songs respectfully their own. They start chants to celebrate their cloud-rap collectives ‘say drain gang’ ‘say sad boys’. Lean performs ‘Bliss’ and my sad girl heart is fulfilled at bearing live witness to a longtime favourite tune. Two best friends in parkas create visual explosions with the help of videographers that pulsate and loop live feeds of the act. Shooting from behind as to include the audience along with the performers as one unit, a collective. 

(Yung Lean at Laneway / Photo: Milad Asadi)

Grateful to have been swept with the masses as I enjoy the final songs of Wolf Alice on stage across the main one where people are waiting. Vocalist Ellie Rowsell is triumphant in their messy je ne sais quoi: sporting a leotard and attitude that  hums the line of endearing rock. The band feels cohesive and democratic in sound. Within a few minutes I am won over and reborn as a fan. 

(Wolf Alice at Laneway / Photo: Milad Asadi)

The sun sets into a saccharine pink as US Pop artist, Chappell Roan, enters her kingdom set-designed stage. The sapphic exuberance beams from the audience to Roan, from Roan back to the audience. Every spot in the speedway is filled and the bestowed title of “headliner” is felt acutely. 

(MINA GALÁN at Laneway / Photo: Milad Asadi)

Closing out Laneway simultaneously was Spanish/Moroccan DJ MINA GALÁN. Chique and femme, GALÁN entered wordlessly, lighting up a dart and began their set of guttural beats interlaced with Latin sounds of baile funk and guaracha. Starstruck and rejuvenated, GALÁN closed out the evening providing a space of nightlife sans “white boy techno”. 

The mosh is on a high, and I overhear someone boast to their friend “I told you this would be good, right?"