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It’s summertime, Zohran Mamdani is in office, the Knicks are in the NBA Finals. There truly could not have been a better time to attend New York City's biggest annual music festival.
The world might be falling apart, but New York City has never felt more up. It’s summertime, Zohran Mamdani is in office, the Knicks are in the NBA Finals. There truly could not have been a better time to attend Governor’s Ball, the city’s biggest annual music festival. The excitement was palpable and infectious, even amid numerous weather-related setbacks.
There were so many phenomenal sets, namely from The Dare, Lorde, Geese, Slayyyter, and Jane Remover. So, as a true boots-on-the-ground journalist, it’s my duty and pleasure to bring to you the real scoop on Gov Ball 2026: the most memorable moments from the festival’s three days; the good, the bad, and the straight-up weird.
This weekend, I learned that people will wait any amount of time in any kind of weather to get free shit—even if said shit is a single donut hole, a pin, or a… bottle of Listerine? I honestly don’t know what the Listerine brand activation was even about, but people lined up for it.
A solid third of the festival grounds—probably more—were taken up by brand activations: a Coca-Cola Roller-Rink, a Patrón house, a 7-11 Slurpee spot, a Tinder music thing, you name it. I myself did not participate in any of them, because I simply do not have the patience, but I hope those half-hour waits were worth it.
Okay, maybe the dream was dashed when the Knicks lost to the Spurs last night, but during Gov Ball weekend, spirits were sky-high… literally: Knicks flags were flying atop the Gov Ball main stage the entire time. Artists shouted out the Knicks every day, whether that was Whatmore’s Yoshi T kicking the fest off in a Knicks jersey or Diplo sporting Knicks colors of his own on the following day.
But what most comes to mind is the bizarre editorial choice to repeatedly overlay footage of the waving Knicks flags over Cameron Winter’s face on the big screen for two consecutive songs. Don’t get me wrong, it got massive cheers from the crowd , but it looked a little like a cheap ad campaign, the kind where a candidate dissolves into a proudly brandished American flag.
I can’t knock the decision, though: Geese have become such huge New York City figures in the past year, so who better to represent the Knicks on the Gov Ball mainstage? I love an onstage trampoline. When Gelli Haha brought four mini trampolines out during her Bowery Ballroom show last month, I ate it up with glee.
Much to my own excitement, Audrey Hobert wheeled out one of her own when she closed out her set with the hit song “Sue Me”—and she got some serious air, too. I’m officially in awe of her breath control. The indie-sleaze revivalist DJ was responsible for one of Friday’s most fun sets—while the acts before him were wonderful , they weren’t the most energetic or dance-heavy.
Enter The Dare, who riled up the crowd enough to propel us through the rest of the day. A giant white inflatable ball was bounced around the VIP section, with throngs of people keeping it up in the air for the majority of the set. At one point, he chucked a can of water into the crowd. I’m not sure why, but it was sick.
Probably not for the audience member it likely hit, though. I’ve always been mildly put off by the over-the-top, expense-heavy artifice of most stadium shows; stage gimmicks and massive sets just make me cringe. But Lorde’s Friday headline set legitimately opened my third eye and made me appreciate the true artistic potential of high-budget performances.
It was a minimalistic, thoughtful setup: a fully functional water fountain here, a giant box/TV screen that rises into the air there, two backup dancers performing lyrical, interpretive dance throughout, and most of all, immensely intentional and carefully calculated lighting. I’m having a hard time even finding the words to describe it.
From the opening tech-heavy version of “Royals” to the closing heartbreaking rendition of “Ribs,” Lorde’s was intimate and enormous all at once, an introspective yet confident reimagining of her catalogue to date complete with mesmerizing, to-die-for visuals. I will be thinking about Lorde kneeling on a TV twenty feet in the air, the screen showing her two backup dancers both biting into the same apple on the ground below her, for literal years.
I don’t often describe concerts as transcendent, but Hell, that’s the only word that comes to mind. The absolute last thing I want to do after a ten-hour day at a festival in ninety-degree weather with newly-formed blisters on my feet is spend thirty minutes walking to a Lyft pickup location. Alas, Gov Ball did not give me much choice. Every night, there was a mass exodus of groaning attendees shuffling miserably to the faraway exit.
On Saturday, a road closure even forced us to walk through the Queens’ Night Market in order to get to the pickup spot. At least we were all unified in our struggle. Sure, a lot of the bands and rappers wore street clothes, and a lot of the pop stars wore gorgeous slinky numbers, but Gov Ball had its fair share of oddities. hemlocke springs went full-on vampire. 2hollis was ninja-adjacent.
Chanpan wore football attire, black streaks of facepaint and all. Slayyyter donned a sexy pigeon headpiece. The KATSEYE girls were in polka-dotted, bedazzled, sequined outfits .
Audrey Hobert had a trenchcoat and a transparent yellow rain jacket-type-thing—not a costume, exactly, but nota costume either. The Dare wore a full suit and tie, and given it was ninety-something degrees, I’ve got to respect it. During “catch these fists,” the Wet Leg frontwoman let the crowd know just how dangerous her fists would be to catch—maybe Dominic Fike would be up to the challenge, but I’d rather just admire from afar.
Her nonchalant, unbothered delivery is even more addictive in-person than it is on her records. Saturday was dominated entirely by Stray Kids fans—cat ears and trading cards as far as the eye can see. That, I have no issue with.
What Ihave a problem with is plopping a blanket down in the middle of the crowd at 11 a.m. in preparation for an 8:30 p.m. set, and glaring at anyone and everyone who attempts to get in front of you to see theirfavorite bands in the interim. I tried to weave my way toward the front of the crowd for Wet Leg’s set at 4:30 , and was met with vehement resistance and extremely dirty looks—many of which I saw directed at Wet Leg, presumably for having the audacity to play before Stray Kids.
It’s unimaginably poor form to hold up signs and cheer for aduring another musician’s set, to not let actual fans of non-headliners through while you sit with your back to the stage and complain about how bad the music sounds. It was wild; they refused to leave their spots even to get water in ninety-degree heat, so they all kept passing out.
Nothing against Stray Kids, but for the sake of all other festival attendees , I sincerely hope they are never booked to play a festival ever again. On a similar note… Who would win in a fight: a group of sweaty, shirtless, skinny twenty-something white men flailing around in the pit, or a group of bedazzled, cat-eared K-pop fans of all ages camped out on the grass and glaring daggers?
The answer is no one. We all lose. 2hollis fans wanted to mosh, but their efforts were impeded by hordes of Stays camped out in the crowd, sitting on the ground and paying no attention whatsoever to any of the musicians prior to their beloved boys.
But, I don’t think anyone would ever peg the 2hollis fanbase as being particularly polite , so—much to the chagrin of the Stays stretched out on the grass—they moshed anyways, nearly trampling the spawncampers in their fervor. Children were crying, mothers were screaming, it was a mess.
Stays were seething at the other attendees for creating “unsafe conditions,” but, frankly, if you don’t want to get stepped on during a set, maybe don’t lay down in the middle of it. Just some advice! I couldn’t even tell you exactly where all the dust was even coming from, but by the time I left the festival on Saturday, I’d blow my nose and see a brown Kleenex. Everyone wasThis weekend was hot.
We all knew this going in. Some of us prepared accordingly and drank water. Others categorically refused to stay hydrated, and paid the consequences. But there was fainting all three days; I’d bet there was at least one casualty during every post-3 p.m. set.
Hell, someone went down at Audrey Hobert’s 2 p.m. set on Friday, causing the singer to change all the words to “Please help that person please. ” Drink water, everybody! Or, at least, the group continues to baffle me specifically. I can’t lie: the global girl group is enthralling, on account of the general phenomenon around it more so than the music.
Sure, “Gnarly” grew on me, because it goes kind of hard!
“M.I. A.” is a good time too, and “Touch” is pure sugary goodness. But “Internet Girl” is one of the worst songs of 2026 , “Pinky Up” is gibberish, and “Mean Girls” is painfully cringy. So no, I don’t think they’re particularlyutterly fascinating.
To this day, I don’t understand KATSEYE’s intended audience, and I was only more confused after witnessing them on Friday. I spent the entire set surrounded on all sides by pre-teens with tubes of glitter seemingly dumped on top of their heads, my view partially blocked by more children hoisted up on their parents’ shoulders. I’ve never seen more kids at a festival. KATSEYE are like Cocomelon, I guess, if Cocomelon’s main appeal was shaking ass.
But no one in the crowd was dancing along with them, of course; all the Eyekons were too busy recording every single song. Also, the group was practically filibustering between numbers, presumably because they don’t have enough released music to fill an hour-long setlist. I joked with my friends afterward that they were like one of those pull-string stuffed animals that come with pre-recorded lines.
I thought seeing the KATSEYE girls live would finally make them feel like a real, human group to me instead of uncanny valley Bratz dolls come to life via Pinocchio-style wishes about becoming real girls. I was wrong. While KATSEYE certainly had the most children turn out for their set, I don’t think I saw a single act without at least one child present in the audience—except maybe Jane Remover.
The highlight, though, was this one little girl near me during Geese on Sunday, sitting atop her dad’s shoulders and screaming every word. Her little hands were permanently locked into the age-old rock horns sign. She was shown on the big screen multiple times throughout the set, and I absolutely understood why. I spent all of Friday bracing for a rained-out Sunday, but come Saturday, the tables turned: the storm had arrived earlier than expected.
When the schedule changes were announced, it was pure chaos in the press lounge: my interview with Jane Remover got cut off by her team’s urgent insistence that they needed to get to their van post-haste, and all my friends and I spent a solid fifteen minutes bemoaning the cancellations of Blood Orange, Kali Uchis, and Amyl and the Sniffers . Thankfully, Dev Hynes got rescheduled for Sunday , but I’m still grieving the other two.
None of us cared particularly about Stray Kids, so by the time their rescheduled 6:15 set arrived, the press lounge looked like a ghost town. Everyone dipped before the storm came, myself included. It wasn’t easy to get out, though; all the Ubers kept canceling, and even those who did get picked up had tree branches landing on their cars.
Most of all, though, I felt really bad for the Stray Kids fans who had just arrived, assuming the boys would be going on at 8:30 like initially planned—newcomers weren’t allowed into the festival at all, so they had to turn right back around and order another Uber. Multiple children were crying. It was a grim scene. Right before Slayyyter’s set, every screen on the festival turned a bright green, with text reading: “STORMS IN THE AREA.
” I ran to the press lounge and hunkered down in the media tent, panicking the entire time:I was burned bad enough by all the cancellations the previous day, so the prospect of losing Slayyyter, Geese, and Clipse was a grim one. Thankfully, almost nothing happened at all. There was some wind for fifteen minutes or so, and then there was nothing. The show must go on!
Time for Slayyyter. Unfortunately, After’s set was cut short, which was criminal. The Missouri pop star’s set was easily one of my most anticipated of the weekend—I’ve rewatched footage of her Coachella set more times than I can count—and I’m happy to announce it diddisappoint. She opened with “DANCE…” and closed with “BEAT UP CHANEL$.
” Hit song “CRANK” cropped up somewhere in the middle, and fans screamed along to each track. Her stage presence is a near-tangible thing; it’s almost overwhelming. It was hot as Hell, but with Slayyyter onstage, all the sweat running down my back was suddenly forgotten. Man, when I grow up, I want to be the wor$t girl in America too.
Ever wondered how Cameron Winter would fare at one of those Victoria Secret open-casting calls? On Sunday, I was lucky enough to find out. While some artists clearly planned their acts around the runway and others made great improvised use of it , some weren’t sure what to do with it. A lot of the more classic bands simply ignored it, as walking it would require leaving their instruments behind.
Not Geese. Partway through the set, Winter—seemingly on a whim—unplugged his guitar and started strutting down the stage. At one point, he picked up a Labubu that was thrown at him, kissed it, then threw it back. But that makes the whole thing sound a lot more suave than it was.
In reality, the entire runway walk was tremendously strange, awkward, and stilted—and endlessly endearing for it.. Michelle Zauner rocked a green two-piece during her beautiful Sunday set, boasting the greatest accessory of all: a pregnant belly. It certainly didn’t hold her back—she was jumping and jamming out with the best of them. She also dedicated “Picture Window” to her “baby daddy” Peter Bradley, which elicited coos from the crowd.
Is Dominic Fike… okay?
“If you see me outside, see if you can knock me out,” the “Babydoll” singer announced, wide-eyed and shirtless, in the middle of his set. He repeated it, louder this time: “IF YOU SEE ME OUTSIDE, SEE IF YOU CAN KNOCK ME OUT! On God! I’m wyling?
Goddamn. ” Saying this to a crowd of New Yorkers seems like a request for certain doom, but I’m looking forward to seeing if anyone takes him up on it. Can anything beat a Pusha T and Malice set? Probably not.
The brothers have been consistently phenomenal since the early Aughts, and I don’t think they plan on stopping anytime soon—just look at last year’s, which Pusha called “still the album of the motherfucking year. I don’t care what year it is” onstage to raucous applause.
“Grindin,” their beloved 2002 breakout, was obviously a set highlight. Gov Ball was weirdly light on rap this year—only six acts or so—but, man, at least we got this. A$AP Rocky closed out the weekend and, despite the high production value—two helicopters! A massive dance crew dressed as a SWAT team!
Tons of pyrotechnics! —it left a little something to be desired. Namely, about thirty minutes of the intended set. The rapper emerged onstage fifteen minutes after he was supposed to, and had awkward, protracted transitions between songs throughout, and since Gov Ball runs a tight ship with their 10 p.m. curfew, a significant portion of Flacko’s set was promptly cut off.
Also, the top-of-set warning brandished on all big screens re: strobe effects said “indludes” instead of “includes,” which was funny. A bit logistically rough as far as headliners go, but if anyone’s charisma can override myriad frustrations, it’s A$AP’s.
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