Laneway Melbourne 2026: The Pink Hat Party
Photography by Josh Sabini.
I rocked up late to Laneway Melbourne.
That would be no surprise to anyone who knows me and my notoriously poor time management skills, which were on full display as I arrived on a Lime bike hours after the festival started. This, not seeming too tragic to most people, who, looking at the extremely stacked lineup, would’ve been under the impression that the festival's “best” acts were yet to play by the time I parked the bike. But for me, who was most excited to see the local openers, Armlock and Shady Nasty, it put a damper on the day, which, as a festival hater, I’d been dreading.
As I approached the festival's grounds, I knew I was out of my depth. Pink cowboy hats, ironic t-shirts that weren’t very funny, and a half-marathon walk, from the park’s gates to the festival's entrance – it was so long I literally got a stitch, which is perhaps more on me being unfit than anything. During my debut half-marathon, I heard Mt. Joy, just over the fence open up their set with their Millennial optimism anthem, “Silver Lining”. Instantly, no longer feeling out of my depth, instead full of joy, wanting to jump up to the moon and do the biggest heel click as I burst through the Earth's atmosphere, I was excited to see what the day had in store. Positivity works! I am so sorry for ever questioning the joy you radiate, Mt. Joy.
It had been an hour since I’d entered the temporary fencing of the festival's gates. I’d found my friends, tried to watch a bit of The Dare, cringed, and decided to go for a walk with my friend. We roamed around, talking about how much I wanted to eat a tornado potato, but instead ended up at Geese: a band who were ruined for me, not by the internet’s overhype, but by the manager of the skate shop I worked in over Christmas playing the album on repeat, making me realise that it actually annoyed me.
I watched a few songs from the back of the crowd with my hand above my eyes, as if it was some kind of make shift visor protecting me from the sun which was blaring from right behind the stage. We were too far back, the Geese looked more like ants, and bits of Pink Panthress’ internet pop crept through from a nearby stage, taking away from my ability to enjoy the show. It sounded like the sonic equivalent of what I could only imagine a concoction of festival food blended up for a GROSS SMOOTHIE CHALLENGE YouTube prank video would taste like. My senses felt completely shot, like a kid in the grocery store who couldn’t find his mother; I, too, was on the brink of overwhelmed tears. Remembering the reasons I don’t like festivals in real time: the sounds, the queues, the crowds, the fact that if you don’t get to the stage twenty minutes early, you’ll be seeing the band from so far back you can hardly hear them, let alone see them.
I knew there was no point in pitying myself – my job is literally awesome, I get to go to a festival and tell you, the incredible Monster Children readers, about it – I needed to turn the day around. I’d love to write that at this ridiculous moment of ungrateful realisation, I entered a porta-potty with my best buds, had a line of coke, then followed it up with two overpriced beers to change the course of my day, but unfortunately, I am insanely sober.
It was a fried chicken burger that aided in that change. The burger, sitting at $20, was the only decently-priced food item in the culinary sea of $35 pizzas, $15 fries, $25 souvlakis, and $19 bahn mi’s, and without trying anything else, I am sure it was the best option. A piece of fried chicken, cooked to perfection, drizzled in hot honey, sitting on a bed of shredded iceberg lettuce, and between two buns – it cannot get better than this.
As Pink Panthress’ set finished, the human equivalent of TikTok’s well-manicured algorithm of ASMR slime videos and clean girl GRWMs bled out from the tent, letting in the human equivalent of Instagram Reels’ unhygienic, vulgar algorithm of brainrot and create mode philosophers, in preparation for Sad Boys, Bladee and Yung Lean, to take the stage together. To no surprise, I was with the latter. The show brought together what felt like a union of the brainrotted, everyone from the dark side of Gen Z’s internet together in real life, in a way that was somewhat… beautiful.
E-Girls, Hedi boys, Weeaboos, scratcher tattoo artists, art school kids, zillenials, gamers, and incels, all making up the crowd. This was probably the first day in a long time for most people here where they won’t have a ten-hour screen time, and are instead all living in the moment, jumping around, singing along to the songs of their Swedish heroes. When you think about it like that, it really is beautiful.
Three songs into the set, I was grabbed on the shoulder by a guy wearing a button-up shirt, a black tie, and a trucker hat, who screamed into my face, ‘This is fucking crazy, I have been a Bladee fan for seven years!’ I loved this guy, wanting to match his enthusiasm, as I too was now having the best time ever, living off the high of the chicken burger and Drain Gang, ‘No fucking way, you’re an OG Drainer,’ I responded, opening the floodgates to him telling me about seeing Thaiboy Digital do a DJ set as DJ Billybool in Japan. He then pulled out his phone – his screensaver was British New Gen rapper, Fakemink, as a red Angry Bird with a bottle of dirty Sprite – to film the show. Everyone is talking shit about the new gens. I think this guy was pretty cool.
As a whole, the show was so epic. I had no idea what was going on, but I spent the entire show jumping around with a grin. It was awesome. There was literally an anime on the screen behind them where Bladee and Yung Lean were the characters. In the anime, they were trying to pull out the Excalibur sword, a task they couldn’t do alone, only together. Then, when they pulled out the sword, it became two swords, which instantly transformed into two throbbing microphones. Like holy mother of plot twist!
With my newfound lust for life, realising how much fun a festival could be if you find your people – the brainrotted – I knew it was time to see headliner Chappell Roan. Chappell was taking the stage just a week after leaving her talent agency, Wasserman, whose CEO’s involvement with Jeffrey Epstein came to life. As the first major artist involved with the agency to do so, it’s something admirable that makes her even more likable. It was incredible, the set design was wild, I have no idea how they transport the castle-like structure around to every date, let alone set it up in the short time they have. It has to be one of the most epic stage designs I’ve ever seen at a festival. And with basically everyone who attended the festival staying to watch, it was a perfect way to wrap up the day.
In the end, it was a wonderful day with my friends, where I got to see some incredible music, experience the culinary delight which was the chicken burger, and, as Yung Lean said, ‘It’s not over ‘til it’s over, Melbourne!’ See you next year, Laneway.