Laneway Perth/Boorloo 2026 came with a vibe I was not expecting. My shoulders dropped. My jaw unclenched. The whole place read loud, femme, and unapologetically queer, like the site had quietly become a little Pride-adjacent safe pocket for the day.

Then Chappell Roan walked on and made it official.

I went in excited. I’m a fan. Still, I was not ready for how hard she’d send it. Not in a “she was good” way. In a “this is pop superstardom, live, and we’re lucky to be standing here” way. Vocals stayed rock solid. Production looked expensive. The audience did not casually sing along. We committed.

“Laneway 2026 was queer joy.”

Event Info

Chappell Roan Was Untouchable

Chappell’s set had that rare thing where you can feel the bar lifting. Everything looked intentional. Nothing looked rushed. Nothing looked watered down for a festival slot. The scale suited her, and she carried it like she was born on a stage this big.

The build-up was theatre. A giant gothic fairytale castle sitting there like a threat. Smoke, lights, tension. Then, the Goddess herself appeared, and Arena Joondalup detonated. Pink cowgirl hats everywhere. Drag looks. Glitter. Corsets. Full Chappell cosplay. People packed in tight and ready to scream.

The vocals were the main event for me. Clear, powerful, controlled. This is the part that can wobble when someone is sprinting around in full costume with adrenaline doing cartwheels. Not here. Not once. She sounded locked in from the jump, and she stayed locked in while moving like she was having the best night of her life.

And honestly, that was the most obvious thing in the whole set. She was having fun. Real, visible, can’t-fake-it fun. The kind that turns a massive crowd into a group of besties for an hour because her joy is contagious and you get swept up in it.

She kept it playful, too. At one point, during ‘After Midnight‘, she asked us if we “liked this song” with legitimate surprise, like she couldn’t believe we were losing it as hard as we were. Then she was straight back into it.

Then came the moment that made my stomach drop. During her cover of ‘Barracuda‘, she slunk down to the ground, and the whole place went quiet for a beat. No one knew what was going on. Two staff members came on stage to check on her, and everything had that sharp edge of worry.

And then she popped back up and told us the truth: “I didn’t have a seizure or anything… Blessed be, my nipple was just out.” The relief laugh that ripped through the crowd was instant. From panic to comedy in half a breath. Laneway, baby.

By the time ‘Hot To Go‘ hit, it stopped being a set and turned into a shared ritual. The letter-dance spread like wildfire. Watching a literal horde of people doing it in sync was ridiculous and perfect. She even clocked the one person not doing the dance and called it out, then later apologised, which somehow made it even more endearing.

There’s a point where a crowd stops watching and starts participating. It happened. The choreography spread. The singalongs got louder. The day found its centre.

Laneway 2026 was special. I’m not forgetting it.

The Tonal Shift Was Tangible

Chappell’s presence changed the whole site. You could see it in the outfits, the makeup, the full commitment. Still, it ran deeper than aesthetics.

The grounds had this softness to them. Permission, almost. To be loudly, visibly, obnoxiously yourself without scanning the room for judgment first.

Queer couples everywhere. Drag queens floating through the crowd like glittery gods. People hyping each other up in bathroom lines and at the water stations. That gentle solidarity where strangers stay strangers, but you still don’t feel on your own.

“The line-up set the rules for how the day felt.“

Chappell headlining made it feel huge, sure. But the rest of the poster mattered too. There was a noticeable percentage of women holding prime space across the day, and that’s still not how the balance usually tips at big festivals. When a line-up leans femme, the crowd energy shifts with it. It changes what feels normal. It changes who feels comfortable taking up space.

There’s a direct connection between the artists and the people who connect with them, even if festival crowds are always a mix and plenty of people go regardless of who’s on the bill. You’re not going to get the same experience at two diametrically opposed events. Different line-up, different energy, different rules.

I’ve only been to two Laneways, but I’ve been to countless festivals and gigs, and this difference was substantial. The tone carried all day. Kindness felt normal. Queerness felt casual. The camaraderie was right there in the tiny moments, and it made the whole site feel safer for everyone.

Wolf Alice Were Another Peak

Wolf Alice were a proper palate shift. Ellie Rowsell doesn’t chase attention. She arrives with it. Vocals cut straight through, the band sounded huge, and the set held that push-pull tension that keeps you locked in.

Guitars hit with weight. Then they pulled it right back, and you could hear people actually shut up for once. Unusual at a festival. Massive highlight.

Role Model And The Robert Irwin Moment

Role Model were pure crowd-glue. People who were there for totally different acts still ended up in the same spot, singing along anyway.

And yes, Robert Irwin came out as “Sally” during ‘Sally, When the Wine Runs Out‘.

Arena Joondalup absolutely lost it. Not a polite cheer. A full-body scream that went straight through your ribs. Wholesome chaos. Extremely Australian. If you were there, you already know. If you weren’t, someone in your life will bring it up forever.

PinkPantheress Drew The People She Deserved

PinkPantheress pulled a crowd that made you do a quick scan and go, yep, everyone’s made the same decision.

Her set moved fast, hit after hit, and the pacing stayed tight. Even from further back, you could feel the pull. Phones up, shoulders swaying, people singing along like they’d been holding that slot in their head all day. Is this illegal? It feels illegal. Ha.

Wet Leg Were Pure Fun

Wet Leg are built for festivals. Tight, cheeky, and completely at home in front of a big crowd. If you’d been dragging yourself between stages all day, they had a way of snapping you back into your body.

They were funny without forcing it, and the whole thing had that unifying vibe. Perfect mood shift. Less brain, more movement. Very unruly.

The Dare Had A Very Laneway Moment (With Wet Leg)

The Dare at Everything Ecstatic was already a sensory smack in the face. Strobes everywhere. Frenetic pacing. Cymbals getting punished. He’s up there singing songs about sex like shame never existed.

Then Wet Leg popped up for a song.

It happened fast, and the tent went feral instantly. No big build-up. Just that split second of “wait, is that?” and then screaming. Everything Ecstatic ate it up.

Alex G and Lucy Dacus Were A Nervous System Reset

Alex G didn’t need to do much to pull people in. He just played, steady and sharp, and the crowd met him there. One of those sets where you look around and realise people are actually listening, not half-watching while scrolling or yelling to their mates. 

Lucy Dacus carried that same control, just with more feelings in the room. Soft, strong, and properly present. The audience got calmer, voices dropped, and you could feel everyone appreciating the moment.

Teen Jesus And The Jean Teasers Woke The Place Up

Teen Jesus and the Jean Teasers were fast, punchy, and ridiculously confident. Anna Ryan had that cheeky, bouncing-around-the-stage energy, and the crowd threw it straight back at her.

It was physical and loud in the best way. A set that could energise you for the day. Loved these lot. So fun.

Mt. Joy, Gigi Perez, Cavetown: The Sets That Snuck Up On Me

Mt. Joy were warm and easy to sink into. A set that gives you a breather without losing momentum.

Gigi Perez did that thing where a festival crowd stops being chatty and starts being quiet on purpose. No bells and whistles. Just her, her band, the songs, and this emotional magnetism that drags everyone a step closer.

It feels effortless, but it’s not light. The tone is rich, the power is there when she wants it, and the soul in her voice makes the whole set feel bigger than the slot. ‘Sailor Song‘ was the moment. Hands up, arms saving, and a massive sing-along that sounded like people needed it. Gorgeous. Stunning.

Cavetown brought tenderness with structure. Like a big, cosy hug. Festival days don’t always give you that. I’m glad they did.

The Site Layout: One Brilliant Call, One Ongoing Headache

The Good Better Best and Never Let It Rest stages being next to each other remains a brilliant idea. Less trekking. Less missing songs because you’re speed-walking across the grounds with one shoe half untied.

The Everything Ecstatic stage, being tucked away in the tent, is where it got harder. I heard people saying it’s a quick walk, and for some people it probably is. For transparency, my disabilities include autism, ADHD, dyspraxia, Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome, and asthma. I wasn’t quick. Later in the day, movement through the thickest parts of the crowd became a slow shuffle, and that tent area became significantly less accessible than the main zone.

Perfect access planning at a festival is hard. Still, there’s room for a clearer, safer path between stage areas so disabled patrons aren’t forced into the densest choke points.

Food Queues Were A Whole Problem

I have endless respect for food vendors at festivals. It looks like the type of work that would make me cry in public.

That said, the queues were long enough that I didn’t want to commit to anything, because I couldn’t tell if it would be ten minutes or forty. If there’s one logistical upgrade I’d vote for with my entire chest, it’s an order-ahead-and-collect option.

Accessibility: A Lot To Love, Plus A Few Clear Fixes

I spoke to a few people about accessibility across the day, and the feedback I heard was overwhelmingly positive. People loved the low sensory space, and they were happy that the disabled viewing platform was central to the main stage and mostly undercover.

Low Sensory Area

The low sensory space was calm and genuinely useful. It had an internal fan, bean bags, and a bench with fidgets, ear defenders, and other calming aids. It was small, but it worked. And honestly, seeing it there at all filled my heart with gratitude. There was a time in my life when something like this simply would not have existed at a festival. The progress is incredible, and Laneway deserves credit for making space for nervous systems that need a break. Thank you, team.

Disabled Viewing Platform

The central placement and the fact that it was mostly undercover mattered. That practical detail is the difference between “I could enjoy this” and “I lasted one set then had to go”.

Where It Got Tricky

A few people mentioned the car park being bumpy and the hill being a challenge to navigate. For me, the bigger issue was access to the tent stage once crowds thickened later in the day.

If you were there and your experience was different, better or worse, we’d love to hear it. Accessibility feedback matters, and it’s never one-size-fits-all.

The Part People Don’t See: Recovery

Here’s the part that doesn’t fit neatly into a cute recap.

The reality of doing an event like Laneway is that there’s a recovery period afterwards. I’m not saying that to whinge. I had an incredible day, and I’m grateful I got to cover it. But as a person with multiple hidden disabilities, it can be hard to talk about what comes next without it being misunderstood.

Unruly Folk exists because we don’t flatten that experience. We tell things through a neurodivergent and disabled lens. That includes the cost.

So yes, I did struggle after the festival.

In typical EDS fashion, I was carrying a lot, moving constantly, and my body made sure I knew about it later. My limbs felt like they were trying to leave my body. I was (am) covered in bruises. My joints were furious. My muscles felt wrung out. Once fatigue hit, my dyspraxia ramped up, which meant everything got clumsier and harder.

Then came the neurodivergent crash. Not “tired”. More like a shutdown, where your brain won’t work, your senses are still beyond max volume, and basic tasks feel impossible. My skin hurts. Everything hurts. Autism and sensory overload don’t stop when the music ends. They follow you home and crawl into bed with you.

Add asthma, heat, crowds, walking, noise, and constant navigation, and my system hit emergency power-saving mode.

It took me a solid two days to properly get up. Honestly, I’m still recovering a week later.

I also had someone who was supposed to attend with me, but they dropped out at the last minute. That’s nobody’s fault, but autism and sudden changes are not friends. It threw me off my rhythm, and I forgot a few things despite trying to be prepared.

Sometimes I live in denial about my capabilities until it hits afterwards. Oh. No. I shouldn’t have done that alone. Yes. I do need help.

Next time, I want a buddy. Not because I can’t do my job. Because I want to do it without wiping myself out for a week.

“I had the best day. I also paid for it. Both things are true.”

How To Prepare So The Crash Doesn’t Flatten You

I can’t promise a magical “no recovery” button. I can tell you what I’ll be doing next time.

Bring A Buddy (Even If They’re Not There For The Music)

Someone who can carry a bit of the load. Someone who’ll notice you haven’t eaten. Someone who’ll say, “hey, you’re going pale, let’s sit”. Someone who’ll help you get home when you’re running on fumes.

If you don’t have a buddy, set up a check-in person by text. Or go with a group and pick one person to be your anchor.

Pack Like You’re Parenting Yourself

Electrolytes, not just water. A salty snack and a quick sugar hit. Pain relief you know works for you. Sunscreen you’ll actually reapply. A spare puffer that lives somewhere you can reach. Earplugs or ear defenders. One comfort object or fidget that helps your nervous system chill out.

Keep it small. Keep it useful.

Use Timers

Set alarms for water, electrolytes, food, sunscreen, and sit breaks. Festivals scramble interoception. Timers bring it back.

Use The Low Sensory Space Early

Go in for five minutes even if you feel okay. It’s a reset button, not a last resort.

Don’t White-Knuckle The Walks

If a longer route is less packed, take it. If you need to skip one thing to protect your body, that’s not failure. That’s pacing.

Plan The Exit Before You’re Cooked

Pick a meeting point. Have a backup plan. If rideshare is going to be chaos, leaving a few minutes early can be the difference between tired and wrecked.

Protect The Next Day

If you can, keep the day after completely clear. Treat it like part of the event. Recovery isn’t optional if you want to keep doing this long-term.

Arena Joondalup Versus Last Year

I preferred last year’s venue (Wellington Square). Arena Joondalup was harder to get to, and finding a lift home afterwards took well over an hour. I wasn’t alone in that either. Plenty of people seemed stuck in the same post-festival limbo.

End-of-night logistics matter, especially when you’re already running on empty.

Festival Accessibility Improvements

If Laneway wants to keep levelling up, here’s what I’d love to see next time.

• More viewing platforms across the site
• A clearer, more direct accessible route between the main stage zone and the tent
• More capacity in the low sensory space
• Better ground smoothing or matting in key traffic areas
• A food ordering option that doesn’t require gambling your set times in a queue

Accessibility Snapshot

Accessibility Snapshot (Updated: 21 February 2026)
Legend: Confirmed = Observed on-site. Reported = Feedback from attendees I spoke to. Not Confirmed = Not assessed.

Accessibility experiences vary. If you attended Laneway Perth/Boorloo 2026 and your experience was different, we’d love to hear it.

TLDR;

• Chappell Roan delivered a headline set that read true pop superstar, no compromises. Vocals did not budge.
• The overall vibe leaned femme, queer, and warm. Drag queen realness and Chappell cosplay everywhere.
• Wolf Alice was another peak. Huge sound, zero fluff.
• Other sets we caught and loved included Role Model (with Robert Irwin as Sally), Wet Leg, Teen Jesus and the Jean Teasers, Gigi Perez, and Cavetown.
• Accessibility wins included the low-sensory space and the central main-stage viewing platform. The biggest access headache was the tent stage route once crowds got dense.
• Recovery is rough. If you’re disabled or neurodivergent, pacing and support can be the difference between tired and flattened for a week.

Happy 21st birthday, Laneway. It was an honour to celebrate with you. You’re our favourite.

And I need to say a proper thank you. To every beautiful soul I spoke to or crossed paths with on the day. The artists. The photographers. The organisers and PR. Pit security, who are an absolute delight with every interaction. Vendors grinding through those brutal queues with a smile. The gorgeous queen in the VIP Pamper Station who saved my entire life with wet wipes, deodorant to de-stank, and a huge fan when I was close to overheating. To our Unruly Folk readers who recognised me and came over to say hi. To the drivers who got us in and out when everyone was cooked, and my legs were jelly. You all made the day what it was. Let’s do it again.

Stay unruly.