Skrillex
Bass music's shape-shifting elder — from brostep infamy to festival-set transcendence, reinvention as a permanent state.
Bonnaroo 2026 has already wrapped — but you can still dig through the lineup and find the acts you would have loved.
Four days on the Farm in Manchester — Skrillex, The Strokes, RÜFÜS DU SOL and Noah Kahan over a bill that ran from stadium dance to Tennessee bluegrass.
Bonnaroo's 23rd edition ran four days on the Farm in Manchester, Tennessee, with 104 acts and a headline slate that barely overlapped in genre: Skrillex opened Thursday, The Strokes led Friday alongside GRiZ, Turnstile and Yungblud, RÜFÜS DU SOL took Saturday with Teddy Swims and The Neighbourhood, and Noah Kahan closed Sunday with Role Model and Kesha.
That spread is the point of Bonnaroo. Friday alone put Blood Orange, Wet Leg and Hot Mulligan on the same day as Lil Jon, Cloonee and Ganja White Night. Saturday ran Alabama Shakes and Rainbow Kitten Surprise against Sara Landry's hard techno. Sunday paired Tedeschi Trucks Band and Modest Mouse with Big Gigantic and San Holo.
The Farm's own traditions carried the weekend too. Kesha hosted the SuperJam — the late-night covers set that has been a Bonnaroo institution for two decades — and "Weird Al" Yankovic played a Saturday late-night Roovue billed, accurately, as Bigger & Weirder.
Expect electronic, indie rock, dance and rock across 104 acts.
Thursday June 11 through Sunday June 14, with the Thursday bill shorter than the three full days that follow.
Skrillex on Thursday; The Strokes, GRiZ, Turnstile and Yungblud on Friday; RÜFÜS DU SOL, Teddy Swims and The Neighbourhood on Saturday; Noah Kahan, Role Model and Kesha on Sunday.
June 11–14, 2026, at Great Stage Park — the Farm — in Manchester, Tennessee. It was the 23rd edition.
104 across the four days, plus the SuperJam and a late-night Roovue set.
A one-off late-night collaborative set, different every year, built around a host and a rotating cast of guests from across the bill. Kesha hosted the 2026 edition, billed as SuperJam Esoteríca: The Alchemy of Pop.
Lollapalooza lineup →Hopscotch lineup →The Fest lineup →Rebellion lineup →III Points lineup →Lost Lands lineup →Louder Than Life lineup →All Points East lineup →Aftershock lineup →End of the Road lineup →ARC lineup →Warped Tour Orlando lineup →Austin City Limits lineup →Reading & Leeds lineup →EDC Orlando lineup →Bourbon & Beyond lineup →Riot Fest lineup →Outside Lands lineup →Green Man lineup →HARD Summer lineup →Osheaga lineup →Bass Canyon lineup →Hulaween lineup →Honcho Campout lineup →Portola lineup →Furnace Fest lineup →Shaky Knees lineup →Sick New World Texas lineup →Hinterland lineup →All Things Go DMV lineup →Raleigh Wide Open lineup →Oceans Calling lineup →Darker Waves lineup →Bumbershoot lineup →Ohana lineup →Sea.Hear.Now lineup →Iron Blossom lineup →All Things Go NYC lineup →
Bass music's shape-shifting elder — from brostep infamy to festival-set transcendence, reinvention as a permanent state.
Kieran Hebden's glowing folk-tronic universe — patient builds that hit like revelation, two decades of textures that make dance music feel handmade.
Long Beach rapper with a deadpan wit and a refusal to romanticise anything — the funniest interview and the bleakest verses in rap.
San Francisco punk with a swaggering, almost danceable strut — snotty in the best 1979 tradition, suits and sneers included.
The band that rebooted New York rock — a deep catalog of deadpan cool, still untouchable live when the engine catches.
Saxophone-wielding electro-funk — half of the GRIZTRONICS b2b with Subtronics, and a solo catalog of brass-blasted future-funk joy.
Hardcore's joyful crossover kings — dreamy interludes, stage dives, total communion, and a crowd that moves as one.
UK alt-rock provocateur — theatrical, communal, and louder every year, a fanbase that treats shows like family reunions.
Philly folk-rockers grown into amphitheater singalongs — warm, road-tested, communal, with 'Silver Lining' as the nightly high-water mark.
Diplo's dancehall-electronic party machine — pure festival serotonin, 'Lean On' and a dozen more global smashes in one set.
A rasp built for heartbreak, dragging country songwriting through trap drums and open-wound honesty — genre lines treated as suggestions.
Unhinged Brooklyn art-rock — yelping, swaggering, and critically adored, like the Stones reassembled by art students mid-fever.
British tech-house producer with a knack for the rolling bassline that empties the bar and fills the floor — label-boss instincts tuned for peak time.
Belgian duo trading in wobbling, psychedelic dubstep with a genuinely distinctive low-end signature — the wobble is the brand and the argument.
The architect of crunk, and a DJ set that is essentially two decades of shouted ad-libs delivered at maximum volume.
Dev Hynes's velvety art-R&B — '80s soul textures, jazz chords, and quiet heartbreak from one of pop's most sought-after collaborators.
Deadpan, hook-loaded post-punk — the Isle of Wight duo grown into a full-blast rock band, 'Chaise Longue' just the opening joke.
Midwest emo's chaotic favorites — screamed choruses, absurd song titles, real feelings, and a crowd that knows every word including the yelps.
Absurdist pop-rap entrepreneurship — 'edamame' energy and meme-fluent hooks, shockingly great live from a performer who takes the joke completely seriously.
Comedian-turned-rapper whose records are genuinely good in spite of being extremely funny — the bit became a career, deservedly.
St. Louis rapper with an elastic, sing-song flow and jazz-schooled production underneath — Zero Fatigue's playful center of gravity.
Grammy-nominated house duo — greasy basslines and instant grooves, 'On My Mind' the calling card, grooves greasy enough to require napkins.
British indie-pop with a sharp lyrical edge — bright arrangements carrying much darker subject matter, Croydon storytelling on the rise.
Harrison Patrick Smith's sleazy, deliberately retro dance-punk — the sound of 2007 Lower East Side, revived without irony and with a better suit.
Montreal duo who made melodic dubstep a genre with actual songs in it — 'Crave You' and a decade of remixes balancing heartbreak vocals against heavyweight drops.
UK bass and garage — clean, physical, dancefloor-first, drops with surgical timing and low-end pressure without a wasted bar.
Psychedelic bass with an unusually warm, melodic centre — closer to a mood than a drop, meditative even at festival volume.
Vancouver's TikTok-resurrected art-rockers — quirky harmonies and a huge devoted crowd, a back catalog rediscovered by a generation that made it theirs.
Brothers making breezy, jazz-flecked bedroom pop — soft chords, shuffling drums, and a sun-warmed melancholy built for headphones and golden hour.
Unapologetic '70s riff worship played with enough conviction to make the pastiche irrelevant — 'Woman' still a lightning strike.
Asheville's country-gaze storytellers — lap steel, feedback, and busted-truck poetry, narrating the South's weird corners in high fidelity.
Australian pub-punk perfection — smoko forever, mullets and minute-long anthems about life's essentials, the nation's finest short-song economists.
Irish folk trio — hushed three-part harmonies and homesick story-songs that have been quietly filling rooms far bigger than anyone expected.
Producer-songwriter making dance music that keeps one foot firmly in pop structure — melodic drops with verse-chorus bones.
Cinematic Nova Scotia noir-pop — smoky, widescreen ballads with an old-Hollywood streak, torch songs delivered with movie-star poise.
Emotional stadium-scale melodic house — sunset-slot perfection from the Australian trio, 'Innerbloom' as the communal cry.
A tattooed Georgian with a genuinely enormous soul voice, who covered his way to a following and then wrote the heartbreak records to match.
Monochrome California moodiness — 'Sweater Weather' and a decade of slow-burn alt-pop, reunited for a generation that streamed them into legend.
Brittany Howard's voice is the whole argument — southern soul-rock that sounds like it was recorded in a room too small for it.
Two decades of British drum-and-bass that keeps crossing into the charts without ever softening the low end — scene elders who never stopped moving with it.
Hard techno delivered with genuine showmanship — one of the fastest rises in the genre in years, industrial pressure with headliner presence.
Genre-fluid Boone collective — rapid-fire folk-rock with communal fervor, harmonies stacked high and crowds louder still.
Gibbs's precision over Alchemist's dusty, soul-sampled loops — one of rap's most reliable pairings, 'Alfredo' chemistry recreated live.
Amy Taylor might be the best frontperson alive right now — Aussie pub-punk voltage, all sprint and snarl, from a band that treats every stage like a title fight.
Nick Douwma's melodic drum-and-bass — euphoric, precisely engineered, and built for a very large sound system, arena-rave architecture at its cleanest.
London duo making vocal-led house that sits comfortably between the club and daytime radio — 'Ready for Your Love' polish with underground bones.
Florida indie rock built for festival fields — 'August' euphoria, surging choruses, and a live energy that outruns the recordings.
Michael Angelakos's falsetto over maximalist synth-pop — euphoric music about genuinely difficult things, 'Sleepyhead' still a serotonin spike.
Lo-fi electroclash duo — distorted synths and detached vocals for the afterparty, Detroit cool for the post-everything generation.
A one-person band who builds whole songs live from loops — guitar, beatbox, trumpet, all stacked in front of you.
Oklahoma red-dirt songwriter who went from dorm-room recordings to theatres in about eighteen months — Stillwater sincerity at full sprint.
Alex Ridha's brand of electro is abrasive by design — hardware-driven, distorted, and consistently ahead of whatever is fashionable, two decades running.
Bruised, cinematic alt-pop — Grantham's bedroom-to-BRIT-Award story, small-town detail sung in a fog of reverb, intimacy that scales to festival fields.
UK dance-pop craftsman — glossy, feel-everything disco-house built for golden hour, collaborator to half of pop's A-list.
Teenage Arkansas country prodigy — porch-honest writing in the Zach Bryan lineage, wise beyond the birth certificate.

The drag superstar behind the decks — camp, pop edits, and pure joy, a set built for singing along in sunglasses.
Attic-band indie rock with barefoot summer energy — loose, breezy Long Island guitar songs that built a word-of-mouth following from DIY beginnings.
Young Alabama pickers playing traditional bluegrass fast enough to satisfy a jam crowd — flatpicking chops with festival stamina.

Southern rock grit on the undercard.

Australia's percussive-guitar phenom — open-tuned instrumentals that went viral for a reason, two hands doing a band's work.
Bay Area beatdown hardcore — no subtlety, maximum pit, exactly as advertised, the pit's favorite band for a reason.
New England folk-pop about small towns and staying put, delivered with the kind of full-throated chorus that turns an amphitheatre into a choir.
Heartthrob pop with indie manners — 'Sally, When the Wine Runs Out' made him a festival fixture, and the crowd brings the wine.
Reclaimed her own catalogue and her own name, and now plays the party records and the hard-won ones in the same set.
A twelve-piece built around Susan Tedeschi's voice and Derek Trucks's slide — the most musicianly band on any festival bill.
The collaborative project of LSDREAM and CloZee — psychedelic bass built more for immersion than impact, two catalogs melted into one liquid set.
Pusha T and Malice, reunited — coke-rap scripture over pristine beats, one of rap's great comebacks and a masterclass in brotherly chemistry.
Slow-burn Atlanta R&B — heartbreak delivered with surgical calm, ballads that cut deeper for never raising their voice.
Dusty, hip-hop-rooted electro-soul that would sound at home on a boom-bap record if you slowed it down — Atlanta sample-craft in the Pretty Lights lineage.
Isaac Brock's jittery, seasick guitar songs about the highway and the void — three decades of them, still unmistakable from the first yelp.
Saxophone and live drums over electronic production — the Colorado duo that made horns a festival-stage instrument again, equal parts jam band and drop machine.
Michelle Zauner writes about joy and grief with the same precision, over arrangements that keep getting more ambitious — gong hits and all.
Left pop-punk behind for warm, hazy dream-pop and never looked back — one of the cleaner reinventions in the scene.
Dutch producer who plays guitar over his own melodic bass music — earnest in a genre that often isn't, sincerity as the signature.
Troy Andrews plays trombone like a lead guitar, fronting a New Orleans funk band with genuine brass-band muscle — Treme lineage at full blast.
Heartthrob indie-pop — leather-jacket romanticism with pop craft, swooners engineered for the barricade and the long drive home.
Perth indie-rock with aching hooks — Australia's biggest new guitar band, 'Booster Seat' devotion at full volume.
Wry, conversational pop songwriting from Gracie Abrams's longtime collaborator turned solo act — diaristic detail delivered with sharp comic timing.
NYC's buzziest indie-dance trio — baggy house grooves with downtown cool, like Madchester relocated to a Chinatown basement.
Sabrina Teitelbaum writes plainspoken, furious guitar songs about bad relationships and worse coping mechanisms — '90s alt-rock bones under a razor-sharp modern eye.
Gleefully off-kilter synth-pop — the med-school-dropout-to-viral-star pipeline, '80s drama sung with total abandon, homemade pop that sounds like nobody else's.
Deep, dubwise bass music built on space and restraint rather than impact — subterranean low end and meditative pacing in the West Coast deep-dubstep lineage.
Korean-American country-blues revivalist — National steel guitar and dust-bowl holler, prewar blues played like breaking news.