KATSEYE
The global girl group assembled through a televised search, built on K-pop discipline but writing for a Western pop chart.
Four days in an Iowa river valley with a lineup that punches far above the cornfields.
Hinterland is the rare festival whose setting does half the work: a natural amphitheater cut into an Iowa river valley in St. Charles, half an hour south of Des Moines, where the crowd spends the afternoon on a grass hillside and the sun goes down behind the stage. The 2026 edition runs four days and just 48 acts — a deliberately small bill by festival standards, and one of the most tightly curated in the country. KATSEYE, Lorde, Mumford & Sons, and Kali Uchis take a night each, and the rest reads like a critic's watchlist: Jane Remover and Ashnikko on Thursday, MUNA and Paris Paloma on Friday, a Format reunion on Saturday, Wet Leg and Geese closing out Sunday. Twelve acts a day means almost nothing worth seeing runs against something else you wanted.
Expect alt-pop, alternative, alt-r&b and synth-pop across 48 acts.
July 30 – August 2, 2026 — Thursday through Sunday.
Avenue of the Saints Amphitheater in St. Charles, Iowa, about thirty minutes south of Des Moines.
KATSEYE (Thursday), Lorde (Friday), Mumford & Sons (Saturday), and Kali Uchis (Sunday).
48 acts across four days — twelve a day, which is what makes the weekend walkable.
Yes — every act's day and set time is on this page. Save the ones you want and they become your own running order.
Tell the finder at the top of this page a few bands you love — it'll match you with your must-see sets, with reasons why.
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 →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 →
Going to Hinterland 2026? Get tickets ↗
The global girl group assembled through a televised search, built on K-pop discipline but writing for a Western pop chart.
Fuzzy '90s-leaning indie-pop grown into lush, easy songcraft — from bedroom demos to Rick Rubin sessions without losing the diary-page intimacy.
Blue-haired, cartoon-maximalist rap-pop that's funnier and nastier than the pop-punk it borrows guitars from — internet-bred provocation with genuine hooks underneath.
Sludgy, low-slung R&B where the rapping and the singing keep swapping places mid-verse — New Jersey cool with an experimentalist's disregard for genre lines.
Gossamer French avant-pop — choral synths and whispered melody, songs that feel lit by candles and screens at once.
Digicore prodigy turned noise-pop auteur — abrasive and gorgeous at once, walls of distortion hiding devastating melody.
Sibling NYC hyperpop chaos agents — glitchy, funny, and relentless, a live set that plays like a timeline scrolled at maximum speed.
Warm-hearted indie folk on the undercard.
Chicago darkwave built for a warehouse — icy synth throb under commands delivered somewhere between seduction and threat, leather-clad and fully in control.
Bedroom-made synth-soul that sounds like a lost '80s major-label record found on a warped cassette — Baltimore's finest recent export.

Iowa punk with the tempo pinned and the melodies sharper than the fuzz lets on — Midwest DIY-scene devotion earned over years.
Fifteen years of turning private, unglamorous feeling into pop architecture that everyone else spends the next decade copying — a generation's diarist at headline scale.
Life-affirming queer synth-pop — 'Silk Chiffon' joy with serious writing chops, and the best live banter in pop included.
Lo-fi electroclash duo — distorted synths and detached vocals for the afterparty, Detroit cool for the post-everything generation.
Mythic, incantatory folk-pop — 'Labour' made her the internet's feminist bard, and the deeper catalog keeps the incantation going.
Viral dark art-pop — spoken-word menace over strings, Gen Z's gothic conscience with a scalpel for a pen.
Shoegaze revived by someone who found it online — vocals buried so far in the wash they read as another guitar.
Glittering, game-engine electronic — Australia's most inventive young club producer, chiptune sparkle at rave pressure, drops that sparkle as hard as they hit.
Sibling duo making fuzzy, playful alt-pop with internet-era intimacy — lo-fi textures and hooks that sound DM'd directly to you.

Iowa's gem-sweater laureate turning regional-craft-fair aesthetics into a genuinely committed electro-rap spectacle — bedazzled and completely straight-faced.


Banjo-driven crescendos that defined a decade of festival folk, now delivered with the electric guitars left plugged in — the singalongs never optional.
A rasp built for heartbreak, dragging country songwriting through trap drums and open-wound honesty — genre lines treated as suggestions.
Nate Ruess before fun. — horn-flecked, sincere power-pop that reunion crowds have waited fifteen years to hear, and sing accordingly.
Genre-collapsing alt-pop pioneer — 'L.E.S. Artistes' to now, always ahead, new wave and dancehall in one voice.
Irish country-pop with a wicked sense of humor and a bigger voice — a riotous live show that swings from comedy to gut-punch inside one chorus.
Moody, guitar-flecked alt-pop with a whisper-to-hook delivery — quiet verses that detonate into choruses, diary-page lyrics under the gloss.
Teenage Arkansas country prodigy — porch-honest writing in the Zach Bryan lineage, wise beyond the birth certificate.
Irish folk trio — hushed three-part harmonies and homesick story-songs that have been quietly filling rooms far bigger than anyone expected.
Four-part harmony and clean guitar tone — indie rock that would rather groove than shout, Birmingham blend at golden hour.
Homemade organ-and-drum-machine racket paired with puppet theatre, and neither half is the gimmick — New Orleans outsider genius, decades running.

Velvet-toned bilingual soul that drifts between doo-wop pastiche and perreo without ever raising its voice — 'Telepatía' cool as a permanent state.
Puerto Rico's coolest export — playful, queer, effortlessly viral reggaeton, delivered with a skater's shrug and charisma that needs no translation.
Unhinged Brooklyn art-rock — yelping, swaggering, and critically adored, like the Stones reassembled by art students mid-fever.
Deadpan, hook-loaded post-punk — the Isle of Wight duo grown into a full-blast rock band, 'Chaise Longue' just the opening joke.
Hazy, vintage-toned dream-pop — cinematic sad-girl songs with a wink, screen-star mystique earning its music credentials.
Wry, conversational pop songwriting from Gracie Abrams's longtime collaborator turned solo act — diaristic detail delivered with sharp comic timing.
Devastatingly specific lyrics — the kind that name a brand or a street — sung with unnerving composure, and screamed back by devoted crowds.
Genre-hopping duo bringing club heat.
Post-hardcore that knows exactly when to stop shouting — dynamics doing the damage the volume can't, Pixies nerve inside hardcore muscle.
Austin's instrument-swapping all-women punk-metal wrecking crew — everyone plays everything, and it all lands at full force.
A comic-book artist's approach to songwriting — rambling, funny, illustrated narratives that outstay their welcome on purpose, and win you over anyway.
Deadpan dance-party songs for children that adults keep showing up to anyway — matching tracksuits, full commitment, zero cynicism.