“It’s the most wonderful timeeee of the yearrrr…” Yeah, I know I’m about five months early, but for some reason that song always echoes around my brain by the time Osheaga weekend rolls around. After all those months of speculating, debating, and micro-scheduling… it’s finally on!
Friday
And wow, what a start to the festival. My first “unmissable” of the weekend arrives just after 3 p.m. in the form of British four-piece Wunderhorse, finally making it onto an Osheaga stage after a last-minute cancellation in 2025. On the main stage and already faced with a sea of Twenty One Pilots fans, they start with Midas in a flurry of riffs that drown out a good portion of the chattering teenage girls, with Butterflies following in a much sludgier manner.
After a few sound issues afflict the intro of Emily, frontman Jacob Slater jokes, “We have an ongoing vendetta with festivals!” Considering the time slot, Promises does a great job of coming across as dark wave as it was intended, thanks to the efforts of the stage guy blazing spotlights through the thick stage smoke. Teal is particularly wonderful too, eliciting a sizeable singalong at its delicate intro, before the 40-minute set wraps up with the devastating Rain. Just wow. This is a club show I need to see soon.
The British Invasion then continues with Wolf Alice. Having seen them headline before, I expect to love them, but there’s something missing for me today. When you’re parked at the front of one stage, it’s usually harder to engage with the band on the adjacent one, so I’m sure that has something to do with it. Or perhaps Wunderhorse were SO good that anything else following would be an anticlimax. Things pick up a bit after Bread Butter Tea Sugar, with singer Ellie Rowsell leaving the stage briefly before coming back absolutely drenched from head to toe, megaphone in hand, for a raucous Yuk Foo, before continuing the punky vibes on Play the Greatest Hits. Her timing is a little off, imploring the crowd to jump for Bros, one of the most mid songs of the whole set. The two previous songs were perfect for that! Still, all is forgiven when the set closes out with a triumphant Don’t Delete the Kisses and a huge singalong in tow.
Man, how many bangers do Wet Leg have already? It’s crazy that their 14-song set is drawn from just two studio albums, so many of which are instantly recognizable. Rhian Teasdale gives Milla-Jovovich-in-The Fifth Element vibes with her slicked-back haircut and is a mesmerizing presence, flexing her guns as they tear through thunderous opener catch these fists. I always hated that screaming mid-section on Ur Mum, but it sounds cool in this festival setting, Rhian counting us in to wail at the top of our lungs. Angelica and Chaise Longue are monstrous too. A few drops of rain fall as the set wraps up with mangetout, but, if anything, it adds to the vibe, the sudden relative darkness making it feel more like a club show in conjunction with the lights and strobes. Absolutely brilliant.
OK, I’ve been in the same spot for three bands now, so I’m desperate to stretch my legs a bit. A main-stage camper I most certainly am not. I wander around to the adjacent stage to watch Blood Orange properly, learning my lesson from my middling Wolf Alice experience, and it’s a good choice. The set has the feel of a jam session, Dev Hynes set up behind keys with a few other musicians, and four cameras at different spots on the stage projecting simultaneously on the back screen, CCTV style. The rain tapers off and blue skies appear as You’re Not Good Enough drops, swiftly followed by the wonderful Best to You, which rightfully gets a huge singalong and a bouncing floor section at the front. The glorious three-part vocal of Champagne Coast wraps up a magical hour.
That’s enough main stage for now. It’s time to head to the Valley Stage to finally see the mighty Bob Moses, another of my unmissables of the weekend. It’s shocking how underrated they are, rocking a similar sound to Rüfüs Du Sol, but getting a fraction of the love they get. It’s reflected in the crowd size here too, which is pretty sparse. I basically walk up to the front fence as they start. The thunderous beats of Waiting on the World are followed by a grandiose Inner Light, which is greeted by a sea of arms in the air. The deep, rumbling bass of Tearing Me Up sounds even better than I imagined. Things then start to feel altogether more rave, the mammoth drop on Afterglow getting the floor bouncing, then merging seamlessly into Keep Love Waiting and another euphoric drop. Desire and Blink close out the set. I hope all those people enjoyed watching The Neighbourhood singer take his shirt off, because they missed a banger here!
One band not struggling to draw a crowd is Japan’s Yoasobi, who, according to vocalist Ikura, are the first J-pop band to play Osheaga, for their first-ever show in Canada. Their stage setup is immense, with an enormous anime shark in the middle below producer Ayase, and the screen projections are as manga as you’d expect. The vocals are almost exclusively in Japanese, so our inability to sing along is compensated for by harmonizing with lots of “Hey! Hey!” chants and fist pumps. The supporting cast behind Ayase and Ikura are phenomenal too. The slap bass on UNDEAD is huge, and that drummer must shed pounds during their set, such is the ferocity of the beats! The light show becomes even more spectacular as the sun sets, and the floor pogos to frenetic set closer Yoru ni Kakeru. An exhilarating 45 minutes.
And suddenly, we’re at the main event already. It kills me to have to skip Geese, but I really need to see Twenty One Pilots at least once before I can tell my super-fan friends they’re rubbish, with a solid experience to base that on. That’s actually just a joke to rage-bait them. I don’t think they’re rubbish at all. The set explodes into life with a deafening Overcompensate, before frontman Tyler Joseph jumps atop a disc held above the crowd on The Contract, swirling his mic like a lasso. It’s an engrossing watch from start to finish. On Shy Away, Tyler runs across to the empty adjacent stage, waving from the darkness, and heads out even farther to a distant stage just below the Coors Light grandstand for Ride. Perhaps it’s an apology for thoroughly dissing them a few songs earlier on Tear in My Heart: “Do you even know this song, Coors Light section?!”
There’s a lot more to the live show than Tyler, though. Drummer Josh Dun is more understated but no less crucial to the operation, blazing out the beats throughout. The stage visuals are fantastic too. Fireworks are already exploding just three songs in on Center Mass, Jumpsuit sees flames and a blast of confetti unloaded over the floor section, and Heavydirtysoul throws in strobe lights with the flames too. We even get a video endorsement prior to a cover of Seven Nation Army: “I’m Jack White, and I give permission for Josh and Tyler to do this song!” The sight of a sea of phone lights in the air, stretching from the front fence to the back hill on Drag Path, is a sight to behold too. It’s a perfect way to wrap up Day 1 and sets the bar high for the next two days!
Saturday
After an epic Friday to start Osheaga 2026, Saturday starts in a similar manner: an unmissable indie band on the main stage, surrounded by disinterested fans waiting for the headliner. After Wunderhorse versus Twenty One Pilots fans yesterday, today’s is local heroes Wolf Parade versus Tate McRae fans. Today is worse. A good chunk of them are sitting on the floor playing cards while seven-twelfths of one of the most iconic records of the last 20 years rings out in the form of Apologies to the Queen Mary. Indeed, it’s only with the arrival of set closer I’ll Believe in Anything, recently given a new lease of life thanks to an appearance on the TV show Heated Rivalry, that a few get to their feet and start filming as if they were paying attention the whole time. Still, the real ones among us are enthralled throughout. Those stuttering drums on You Are a Runner and I Am My Father’s Son will never get old, and the addition of Arcade Fire guitarist Tim Kingsbury adds extra oomph to the live sound, as do his harmonies on songs like Modern World. Fine Young Cannibals and This Heart’s on Fire are absolutely triumphant too. This would have sounded so good at the end of the day on a smaller stage with their own fans, but still, any time with Wolf Parade is time well spent.
Then it’s the arrival of the second member of the Stranger Things alumni in a fortnight. After Djo’s epic set opening for Tame Impala, today it’s the turn of Finn Wolfhard. His sound is notably more straight-up rock, strumming a Rickenbacker with an occasional blast on a harmonica, and it’s pleasant enough, but not overly captivating. It all ends kind of abruptly too. After Trailers After Dark, with five minutes of the set left, Finn says a quick, “See you later, bye!” And that’s the end.
It’s the worst-kept secret in festival history. This slot was advertised as “à venir” for weeks, but eagle-eyed merchandise visitors yesterday noticed Angine de Poitrine on the Saturday lineup, confirming weeks of speculation. An official social media post in the morning confirms it. Wow, what are the ignorant Tate McRae fans gonna make of this? A frantic Yor Zarad opens the set, followed by the Middle Eastern-influenced Tamebsz. There’s a huge crowd assembled already, and a lot of the Tate heads are turning too and starting to throw triangle shapes with the rest of us. It really is astonishing to see such niche math rock so front and centre. A mosh pit forms as Mata Zyklek drops those frantic riffs, and the screen projects that four-camera, CCTV-style setup we got with Blood Orange yesterday, which heightens the appreciation for the technicality of the music. It really is a sight to behold Khn’s pedalboard in full flow! Sarniezz sounds absolutely enormous on this sound system, with a pit to match. Fabienk is equally huge. Sherpa closes out the triumphant 50-minute set with that thunderous bass outro and blaring lights. An unreal spectacle.
On to the smaller stages. I’ve heard Viagra Boys are a fun watch, so I head over. They sound a lot like Idles at first, so since I’m apparently the only person on the planet who doesn’t like them, I’m not really into it to begin with. Then things turn decidedly more electronica, more indie sleaze, and I like it way more. Troglodyte is scuzzy in a Queens of the Stone Age kinda way. A couple of mad saxophone and guitar breakdowns later, set closer Research Chemicals ignites one last circle pit, and frontman Sebastian Murphy crowd-surfs towards the mayhem. It’s certainly a raucous 50 minutes from start to finish!
Then it’s my ninth time seeing Franz Ferdinand. NINE! I’ve been watching them for 23 years now, and every time is an absolute blast. There’s something about losing your mind, and your voice, to one of your favourite bands… it’s an unmatched experience. Frontman Alex Kapranos points to me on set opener The Dark of the Matinée as I sing my guts out, swiftly followed by Walk Away, No You Girls, and Do You Want To… a greatest-hits set perfect for a festival setting. Newer songs from their most recent record, like Audacious and Hooked, fit in seamlessly, the sludgy synths of the latter complementing the blazing strobe lights to create an absolute banger. The crowd loves it. Alex notices and effuses, “Montreal, I love that energy tonight!” The iconic Take Me Out has its intro strum riff drawn out to create a palpable anticipation that explodes into a huge singalong by the time Alex starts the vocal, and set closer This Fire is similarly built brick by brick by way of band introductions. The mid-section is extended too, Alex beckoning everyone to crouch down to their knees as it rumbles along, before all jump to their feet in a flurry of flailing limbs to close out the 50 minutes. Even my friends seeing them for the first time remark on how good that was!
And then it’s time for one of the most anticipated sets of the weekend, the return of the mighty Turnstile. Their meteoric rise in popularity last year is similar to that of Angine de Poitrine this year, except for the fact that they haven’t been to Montreal at all during that time. As a result, this is many people’s first look at their live show. It’s every bit as crazy as you’ve seen online. The delicate intro twinkles of NEVER ENOUGH ring out to herald the arrival of the band onstage and get the pit slow-cooking. It’s no surprise that it detonates on the next song, T.L.C. (TURNSTILE LOVE CONNECTION), and it remains crazy for the duration. A cameraman bravely wanders around the pit, projecting close-ups of the sweaty participants on the stage screens, mixed in with an aerial view of the pit as a whole. It’s cool at first, but continues for every single song thereafter, and honestly gets a little tiresome. This band is more than just a sweaty mosh pit. Some different visuals would definitely add to the experience. There are only so many sweaty bodies in 4K that one man needs to see.
Still, there’s no faulting the music itself. This is a band at the height of their powers. I CARE is first-wave perfection, and SOLE is absolutely massive, every bit as thunderous as on record, as is set closer BIRDS. By this point, a pit has formed in front of the empty adjacent stage too! Unquestionably one of the most epic hours of the summer.
And we arrive at headliners Empire of the Sun. Their stage setup is impressive, a huge Olmec-like head lying horizontally in the centre of the stage, and the band arrive with all manner of costumes and dancers. The evening schedule has me a little distracted, though. Tate McRae is due to finish 20 minutes before these guys, so visions of trying to get onto the Parc Jean-Drapeau Metro behind all of that have me spooked. Still, I remember Changes being quite the visual, the dancers coming to the front of the stage to engage the fence, and We Are the People sees a huge chunk of that crowd pogo in conjunction with coordinated smoke blasts too. That same effect makes Television look pretty epic too. Alas, I can’t face getting stuck behind this crowd and Tate’s, so I call time and head out after eight of the 15 songs. Kind of a bummer, but I feel vindicated when I see footage of the Metro a few hours later!
All in all, another great day. Roll on Day 3!
Sunday
Well, after being forecast as the rainy day of the festival for days now, there’s no meteorological miracle. Sunday is Soakday. People still show up in their white Sambas and AF1s, but they’re no match for the mud. As dumb as I look, I’m happy to be in rain boots and waterproofs!
An enormous stall in the traffic moving between the stages delays my arrival horribly, to the point where I only catch the last song by Paris Paloma. Thankfully, it’s Labour, with a guest appearance from Sofia Isella, who played a little earlier, so that’s an awesome two-for-one at least.
My biggest highlight of the day is finally checking Of Monsters and Men off my bucket list, back in Montreal for the first time in 10 years. And the feeling is evidently mutual. “Montreal, it’s so good to be back!” declares co-frontman Ragnar Þórhallsson. Television Love and Dream Team are just the kind of chill vibes I need right now and set the tone nicely to start the set. Of course, you just know that anything from their breakthrough 2011 record My Head Is an Animal will get the biggest cheers of the set, and sure enough, King and Lionheart gets a huge singalong, with another rain shower starting right as the song concludes. It’s epic, and the timing couldn’t have been any better! Dirty Paws literally has me in tears as that delicate acoustic guitar melody kicks in. Thankfully, it’s still raining, so no one will suspect a thing. The crowd bellows that last vocal section: “That’s how the story goes / The story of the beast with those FOUR DIRTY PAWS!” It’s absolutely euphoric. Little Talks is equally triumphant.
But it ends all too soon! As Visitor starts to hit the mid-section, singer Nanna Bryndís Hilmarsdóttir attempts to hop down from the stage onto the lower platform and, in doing so, knocks one of the lighting blocks. For some reason, this cuts all power to the stage, and everything goes dark. A couple of minutes of scrambling ensue, but with only around 10 minutes left of the set, they turn, wave their thanks, and head off stage early. It’s a real shame, but despite this, it’s still one of the sets of the weekend.
A buddy strongly recommends I stick around for Not for Radio, so why not? I’ve discovered many a wonderful band by going in absolutely blind. The solo project of Maria Zardoya, lead vocalist of The Marias, it’s as much theatre as it is music. The stage is terraformed like a forest, with a cello in the corner to add mood to her already sultry, silky vocal. It matches the rain perfectly. Even Maria herself admits, “This is perfect weather for Not for Radio!” Swan brings the cabaret feel up a notch, Maria, all in white, jumping into the arms of a mysterious figure as she sings the vocal outro. He, in turn, lays her lifeless body in an open grave at centre stage. The stage cuts to black, as does Maria’s dress when she resurrects for My Turn. By this point, the rain is guttering towards one corner of the stage, refracting the surrounding stage light to spectacular effect, making it look almost like a waterfall. Maria seems to notice too, flirting with the torrent from time to time, before embracing the precipitation head-on during the magical Ache, coming to the fence to join us in the rain completely. The set wraps up with the wonderful Back to You, and Maria returns, arms flailing, to her grave at centre stage as “The End” projects on the back screen. Theatre, cabaret, whatever you want to call it, that was fantastic.
And then we arrive at the last act of Osheaga 2026, the mighty Lorde. I only know a handful of songs, so again, I’m willing to be won over. The unmistakable Royals arrives surprisingly early in the set, two songs in, and even more surprisingly, is cut down to about a minute. We assume it’ll return in its entirety later, but it never does. Shapeshifter sees Lorde singing on the same transparent podium with a worm’s-eye-view camera that Olivia Rodrigo had last year, throwing very similar shapes too. The Louvre takes the podium theatrics even further, Lorde being raised up on a platform high above the stage. One of my ultra-cool friends somehow knows every word to Liability too, which is one of the biggest surprises of the set for me personally!
After the pulsating electronica of Uppercut, the anthemic Team arrives and gets an unsurprisingly enormous singalong from the thousands assembled. Excitement reaches fever pitch when she screams, “GIVE IT UP FOR CHARLI XCX!” The crowd screams accordingly, expecting a guest appearance, but alas, it’s just a cover of Girl, so confusing. A thunderous Green Light quickly makes up for any disappointment incurred. By the time the set closes with her oldest song, Ribs, Lorde is out dancing in the rain with the rest of us as glitter rains down.
It marks a triumphant end to another successful edition of Osheaga. See you next year, everyone!
Review – Simon Williams
Photos – Steve Gerrard
