3OH!3
Boulder electro-rap duo whose snotty late-2000s singles are now permanent nostalgia infrastructure — shout-along hooks and neon synths that summon every 2008 house party at once.
Warped's Florida stop, billed flat and alphabetical the way it always was — 137 bands across two November days, from Jimmy Eat World to Sunami.
Warped Tour's Florida stop runs two days on the Camping World Stadium campus, and it is billed the way Warped has always been billed: one alphabetical block, no headliners, no hierarchy. That's not an oversight on our part — the festival publishes no billing order at all, so this page lists all 137 bands flat, exactly as the lineup poster does.
The spread is enormous. Jimmy Eat World, Taking Back Sunday, The Used, Third Eye Blind, Dropkick Murphys, Simple Plan, New Found Glory, Silverstein and Thrice cover the nostalgia end. Sublime, Reel Big Fish, Save Ferris and MxPx handle ska and skate-punk. Sunami, Drain, Pain of Truth, Madball, Knocked Loose-adjacent hardcore and Suicide Silence cover the heavy end. And Hot Mulligan, Origami Angel, Arm's Length, Ben Quad, Teen Mortgage and Winona Fighter represent whatever emo is doing now.
Expect pop-punk, emo, post-hardcore and alt-rock across 137 acts.
November 14–15, 2026 — Saturday and Sunday.
The Camping World Stadium campus in Orlando, Florida.
Nobody — Warped publishes a flat alphabetical bill with no headliners, and we've kept it that way here.
137 bands across two days.
Not yet. Warped typically releases day and stage times much closer to the event.
With a bill this size that's the whole problem — type a few bands you already love into the search at the top of this page and you'll get ranked matches, with reasons.
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 →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 →
Going to Warped Tour Orlando 2026? Get tickets ↗
Boulder electro-rap duo whose snotty late-2000s singles are now permanent nostalgia infrastructure — shout-along hooks and neon synths that summon every 2008 house party at once.
Three vocalists pulling in three directions at once — Canadian post-hardcore that shouldn't cohere and completely does, especially at full festival volume.
New England metalcore that leaned into melody early and got a career of radio singles out of it — trading screams for choruses at exactly the right moment.

The Circa Survive singer's solo work — that unmistakable keening voice over looser, warmer arrangements, trading post-hardcore tension for campfire-scale intimacy.
Ontario emo revival with a knack for the exact line that lands hardest — huge choruses, harder feelings, and a scene-beloved catalog that punches far above its weight.
Slug and Ant's Rhymesayers cornerstone — conversational, self-lacerating rap over dusty, patient loops, still the blueprint for Midwest underground hip-hop's emotional honesty.
Fat Wreck melodic punk with four-part harmonies and no patience for anyone's nonsense — SoCal hooks carrying unapologetically feminist fire.
Queens punk with a morbid streak and lead guitar lines that owe more to metal than emo — craftsmanship that turned a scene band into a twenty-year institution.
LA trio splitting the difference between pop-punk revival and moody alt-rock — new-school scene energy with a darker, radio-ready finish.
Oklahoma fifth-wave emo — twinkle guitars, screamed payoffs, and very short songs that pack a whole breakup into ninety seconds.
Progressive metal with no regard for song length — polka breaks, jazz detours, and genuine death-metal fury, often inside the same eleven-minute track.
Blackpool band that walked away from pop-punk toward something darker, grimier, and considerably more interesting — industrial-gray alt-rock with real atmosphere.
Texas pop-punk comedians with better songwriting chops than the joke suggests — twenty-five years of hooks hiding under the punchlines.
Started as screamo-electro, ended up as a straight dance act — both halves still show up live, MySpace nostalgia colliding with festival EDM.
Richmond pop-punk with a genuine pop instinct — hooks first, scene second, and choruses polished enough to pass for radio pop with the guitars turned down.
Sunny pop-rap with a guitar underneath — 'Drew Barrymore' breeziness built for a summer that never quite ends.

Florida post-hardcore with clean-vocal lift and an ear for the theatrical — technical enough for the Swancore crowd, catchy enough for everyone else.
Bedroom-goth alt-pop — acoustic sadness and distorted 808s in roughly equal measure, 'Trailer Trash' the viral flashpoint.
Grunge-weight emo that has quietly drifted toward something looser and poppier without losing the murk — Toledo's finest, still evolving album over album.
Fat Mike's genre-agnostic side project — punk, rap, and folk stitched into something genuinely odd, with Ceschi's rapid-fire verses at the center.
Melodic hardcore at its most emotionally scoured — Brendan Murphy's voice permanently at the edge, and a Canadian scene institution because of it.
Theater-kid pop-punk menace — self-branded 'bubble-grunge' with a wink, Brooklyn duo energy engineered for glitter and mosh in equal parts.
Funk-inflected, wildly technical post-hardcore — Tilian's croon against Jon Mess's shriek, the push-pull that defines Swancore's flagship act.
Gothic pop with metallic edges — theatrical dark-pop vocals over production that keeps one boot in the metal scene.

Mexican emo-rock pioneers — border-town anthems for a generation that learned to scream along in Spanish first.

Nashville rapper with a rock streak and a fiercely independent release history — melodic grit built entirely outside the label system.
Sun-baked Santa Cruz hardcore played like a party — surf imagery over crossover riffs, and a frontman who treats crowd joy as the entire mission.
Boston Celtic-punk with bagpipes, union politics, and a singalong rate of roughly one per song — 'Shipping Up to Boston' merely the loudest.
Tooth & Nail post-hardcore built on duelling vocals and abrupt dynamic shifts — scene veterans whose second act kept the fanbase unusually close.
Frankie Palmeri's long-running deathcore project — nu-metal bounce and a knack for provocation, with a bottom end that settles most arguments.
Atlanta crunk-rock — dance-punk silliness played entirely straight and very loud, a MySpace-era party that never acknowledged the era ended.

Detroit pop-punk with more literary ambition than the genre usually allows — scene-beloved records that read as well as they shout.
Texas metalcore built on clean-vocal lift and reliably enormous breakdowns — arena-scale heaviness delivered with total consistency.
Twinkly Nashville emo about mental health, delivered with a shout and a smile — tapped riffs under gang vocals that turn therapy into a singalong.
Mid-2000s screamo best remembered for the singer who later became Skrillex — but the Warped-era records earned the nostalgia on their own.


Scuzzy internet-age alt-pop.
Alabama band that shed its metalcore skin for straight-ahead heavy hardcore and got meaner for it — southern grit with pit-first instincts.
Travis Barker-adjacent pop-punk duo — glossy, fast, and unashamedly hooky, scene revival built for playlists and pits alike.
Post-hardcore's great withholders — Daryl Palumbo's serrated delivery over grooves that lurch sideways, and records doled out a decade apart.

Protest-minded alt-rock with trap production underneath — agitprop you can actually move to, delivered with genuine live-wire intensity.
Midwest screamo-emo whose biggest single became shorthand for the whole 2005 scene — 'Ohio Is for Lovers' still opens the floodgates.
Newer West Coast hardcore working the same fast, mean seam as its Bay Area peers — no-frills aggression built for short, violent sets.
LA project trading in cinematic, brooding alt-pop with a big low end — grief-forged songs delivered with theatrical force.
Bright, funk-tinged pop-punk from a duo with an unusually sharp sense of groove — scene revival with actual rhythm-section chops.
Early-2000s alt-rock with one inescapable ballad and a harder-edged catalogue behind it — 'The Reason' opens the lighters, the rest brings guitars.

Nashville pop-rock with one enormous 2011 single and a reunion that leaned back into the guitars — 'Tonight Tonight' still pure sugar.
Manchester co-fronted pop-punk with a sneer inherited directly from Britpop — dual vocals, big choruses, bigger attitude.
Michigan emo with absurd song titles and a vocalist who sounds permanently on the edge of losing it — self-described 'number one hot new band'.
Crunk-screamo maximalism — the most 2008 band that has ever existed, affectionately, MySpace chaos preserved in amber and played loud.
Melodic emo-rap that crossed fully into pop-rock without much fuss about the line — chart ubiquity with a scene kid's heart.
Bay Area hardcore with a metallic edge and a vocalist who does not let up — pit fuel from the scene's deep bench.
Detroit horrorcore and the subculture it built — greasepaint, Faygo, and a fanbase closer than most families, three decades of Dark Carnival mythology deep.
The emo band that became a permanent radio fixture — enormous choruses delivered with total earnestness, decade after decade without a dip.
Beastie Boys energy for the TikTok era — relentless, giddy, all-caps fun, two friends rapping like the '80s never ended.
Two-minute punk songs with novelistic detail — a whole record can be over before you've settled in, and every line still lands.
Toronto artist who moved from rap features into full pop-punk, and sounds more at home there — emo-rap roots showing through the power chords.
Post-punk-inflected alt-rock with a genuine 2005 dance-punk streak, and much heavier live than on record — new-core energy with real nostalgic craft.

NYHC royalty — Freddy Cricien's bark over the crossover riffing that defined the Lower East Side sound, hardcore lineage in the literal family sense.

Vancouver pop-rock with theatre-kid ambition — multi-part suites and Josh Ramsay's four-octave showing-off, concept albums played like Broadway.
Southern-fried metalcore built around the Barrow gang mythology — slide guitar over breakdowns, Alabama grit in every groove.
Moog-driven pop-punk with unusually honest lyrics about anxiety and drinking — bright synth lines carrying genuinely heavy cargo.
Pacific Northwest pop-punk lifers — fast, bright, and unbothered by three decades passing, 'Chick Magnet' still a set-list law.
Pop-punk's most dependable engine — Chad Gilbert's chugging guitars under choruses built for a whole field, decades without an off night.
Chaotic Southern metalcore — dissonant, lurching, and famously punishing to watch from the front, two decades of controlled collapse.
DC duo playing maximalist twinkle-emo — two people making a genuinely absurd amount of noise, and hooks to justify all of it.
Queens rap-rock that genuinely fuses both halves rather than alternating them — livewire energy with a message underneath.
Long Island heavy hardcore with a lineage running straight back to the NYHC canon — new-school stomp, old-school allegiance.
Best known for a theme song, which buries a genuinely sharp power-pop catalogue — 'California' opens the door, the rest keeps you.

Formerly Slaves, rebuilt around melody — modern post-hardcore with the edges sanded deliberately smooth and the choruses aimed at radio.
Third-wave ska's most reliable good time — horns, self-deprecation, and a set list that knows exactly what it is, 'Sell Out' forever.
Monique Powell's ska-pop outfit — brass-forward and built around one of the era's biggest voices, 'Come On Eileen' cover and all.
Keyboard-led post-hardcore with a genuinely gorgeous streak under the screaming — scene-era drama back from the vault.
Theatrical Florida pop-rock — strings, showtune phrasing, and a full commitment to the bit, villain-era choreography included.
Gang-vocal pop-punk with hardcore bones — two singers, no wasted time, 'Mutiny!'-era energy preserved intact, posi-hardcore joy undimmed.
Canadian post-hardcore that outlasted the scene it came from by simply never getting worse — 'My Heroine' still a full-crowd scream.
Montreal pop-punk that took the genre fully mainstream and has never pretended otherwise — 'I'm Just a Kid' now two generations deep.

Kellin Quinn's extraordinary upper register over post-hardcore that keeps sliding toward pop — scene-era nostalgia at full cry.
British band reviving 2000s alt-rock gloss with a genuinely modern pop sensibility — Y2K crunch, algorithm-era hooks.
Australian pop-punk gone hyper — glitchy production and hooks sharpened to a point, genre rules cheerfully ignored.
Long Beach ska-punk-dub — sloppy, sun-bleached, and permanently embedded in Southern California, now revived with the founder's son up front.
Deathcore's early standard-bearers — blast beats into breakdowns, delivered at maximum volume, with Mitch Lucker's legacy carried respectfully forward.
Bay Area beatdown that turned meme-level swagger into a genuinely feared live act — the joke stopped being a joke fast.
Long Island's duelling-vocal emo — call-and-response hooks and a mic-swinging live show, scene royalty aging loudly and gracefully.
Australian four-piece playing scrappy, funny, hook-heavy rock with a real live spark — Canberra mates with festival-sized charm.
DC duo making a genuinely enormous racket for two people — fuzz, sludge, and swagger in the Death From Above tradition.
William Beckett's Chicago pop-punk — swaggering, scarf-wearing, and sharper than the scene remembers, 'About a Girl' still gleaming.
Vegas pop-rock from the Decaydance orbit, built around Alexander DeLeon's soul-leaning voice — 'Symphony Soldier' loyalists, report in.
Jersey emo with a soft-focus streak — the band that once released a triple concept album and meant it, sincerity as a career-long dare.
Seattle's funk-flecked pop-metalcore — groove first, breakdowns second, and falsetto hooks the scene didn't see coming.
Kenny Vasoli's pop-punk, written young and aged unusually well — boyish hooks sung now with grown-up weight.
Arizona pop-rock that split up, reunited, and came back noticeably better — second acts done right.
Bert McCracken's scream-to-croon post-hardcore, the sound of a very specific and very loud 2004 — and the field will scream along.
Big-chorus indie-rock built for a room singing back — Nick Anderson's phrasing does a lot of the work, and the crowd does the rest.
Stephan Jenkins's motormouth alt-rock — sunniest possible melodies attached to genuinely bleak lyrics, a trick that still works perfectly.
San Diego post-hardcore trading in atmosphere and heartbreak at equal volume — the scene's moodiest corner, done right.
Dustin Kensrue's restless post-hardcore — technical early, ambient later, thoughtful throughout, 'The Artist in the Ambulance' still a rallying point.


Texas deathcore with a groove streak and a fondness for naming records after films — San Antonio swagger at full weight.
Nashville punk trio with a drummer-vocalist front and centre and no interest in polish — raw hooks played standing on the kit.
Alabama rapper who kept drifting toward country and rockabilly without ever losing the double-time flow — Slumerican to the bone.