Messed!Up
Gothenburg’s Way Out West Festival opened the gates to the 18th edition in Slottsskogen – three days of music madness, overpriced beer, and bantering with people you meet once a year. For many, Way Out West is as much about meeting up as it is about the music. For someone growing up in Gothenburg, the festival is equal parts music and friends’ meetings. Friends arrive from different parts of Sweden and beyond, reconnecting over overpriced beers while catching up on life in general and age-related ailments in particular.
The first walk through the festival area, checking out the stages and catching those opening acts, brings the anticipation into focus, and we have a long list of bands to catch this year. Or how about Moby, The Cure, Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds, The Hives, and many, many more high-quality bands we’ve followed for years? We’re in for a treat!
After the first hour, we’ve finished watching Dove Ellis and Swedish semi-country/blues man David Ritschard, under the influence of two overpriced Norrlands Guld beers (8.5€ each!). Music-wise, not an epic start; beer-wise, the worst start ever. It’s going to be an expensive festival. The first bands are merely for getting into the festival’s vibe, but another slow indie singer-songwriter later (Kasino), and I wanted a festival with ten Two Door Cinema Club-type bands to fend off early sleepiness. My dream festival is an uptempo festival where singer-songwriters are banned – period. As if that wasn’t enough, I made the first major mistake and went to Lily Allen’s gig, an exact copy of her Roskilde Festival show a couple of weeks ago. Great show, but 200 m up the hill, at the Höjden stage, Jenny Beth apparently gave a killer performance. A lesson learned. Back at the Main Stage to watch Swedish superstar Zara Larsson, but staying far back to not engage with the 12-year-old girls in the front line. Sometimes, it’s good to be aware of your age and the artist’s target group. And to be fair, I’m impressed by Zara Larsson’s career, but generic radio pop music isn’t my thing. But none of this mattered because tonight was about my old electronic hero Moby.
Last time I was at The Fleece in Bristol in 1996 on his Animal Rights Tour – thirty years ago! With a five-piece band and two backing singers, Moby often lets them do the musical heavy lifting as he pinballs around the stage hammering away at his guitar, or working up the audience like an over-energized fitness instructor. Or on ‘Go’, as the ominous drones of Angelo Badalamenti’s sampled Twin Peaks score ring out, he furiously slaps bongos as cello and violin collide, alongside thunderous drums, to elevate the song into a giddy rush. That’s nothing short of epic! The list of hits on the setlist is long: ‘Bodyrock’, ‘We Are All Made Of Stars’, ‘Honey’, ‘Natural Blues’, and the epic finale with ‘Feeling So Real’. To use terminology from the 90s: this was a rave night of epic proportions. The highlight was ‘Natural Blues’ with guest vocalist Jacob Lust, who did an impressive vocal effort.
Sure, there were still shows left, and we made it through a sleepy The XX show before leaving for the Stay Out West club night at Folkteatern to watch GB and Manchester’s up-and-coming guitar heroes, Freak Slug. Great wrapping up of the first day, although I was done after Moby.
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The second day of the festival was probably the best festival day of the summer. I’ve been to four festivals already, most bigger than the Way Out West Festivals, but with a line-up like today’s, WOW definitely marks 2027 as their strongest year ever. The Hives, Nick Cave And The Bad Seeds, The Cure, Bonnie ‘Prince’ Billie, Lykke Li, Lambrini Girls, Fcukers, and local rising indie stars Nektar. The problem? How to find time to catch a glimpse of all the bands. In the end, it just didn’t pan out as I wanted. Being an optimist doesn’t mean it will work out, apparently.
The morning arrived with no time to waste, and although last night ended early and we were in bed just after midnight, the festival summer has started to take its toll on the body. I need to sleep but will have to wait until next week. No, wait! It’s time to go back to work then. There was barely a chance to taste the coffee, let alone ease into the day, as we gobbled down a quick but massive breakfast – with no time to eat during the day, this was it – and headed straight for Slottsskogen. The clock was ticking towards noon, and Bonnie “Prince” Billie was waiting at the other end at the Linné stage. Whatever plans we might have had for a slow festival morning were already out the window. What followed was twelve hours in which the brakes never really came on. One stage led to another, one performance blurred into the next, and there wasn’t a moment to stop, breathe, or eat (well, I ran out for a quick Subway sandwich). From Bonnie “Prince” Billie at noon to The Cure closing out the night at midnight, the day became an exhausting sprint through Slottsskogen, and it didn’t stop until after two shows and two beers at Stay Out West at 2 am, the club festival taking over after the open-air festival closed for the day. But everything in between was nothing but awesome!
After catching a beer for lunch, we headed in the direction of the Linné stage to catch the second half of Bonnie ‘Prince’ Billie’s gig. Haven’t watched him live for twenty years, at least, but I’m not a huge fan either. But this was surprisingly good. Will Oldham created an intimate, unhurried atmosphere that made the crowd lean in – a perfect, soft start to the day. Sometimes, not often, I get a sensational feeling when a band is authentic, and this was one of those rare moments. Oldham and band create something emotional that pulls you in and doesn’t lose its grip until the encore is over. It just feels ‘real’ without any excessive live show, just the music speaking directly to you.
Just as the show ended, the sun broke through. What had been a cool, grey festival day suddenly turned into something altogether different. Sunglasses on, heading towards the Azalea stage to catch a few songs by local hero Joel Alme, and when we arrived, it was really hot. Luckily, there was a bar next to the stage. Beer solved the immediate rehydration need. Joel Alme? I’ve always been a fan of the ‘Gothenburg indie sound’, but what worked around 2010 doesn’t work in 2026. Alme still has some hits for people who have followed him for the last twenty years, but the younger generation didn’t take any notice at all. Me? I left before the encore and headed back to the Linné stage, which offered shelter from the sun since it’s the only tent stage at the festival. Sara Parkman was next on today’s list, and I had expectations after watching her show at the Roskilde Festival – one of the best shows.
Parkman is unusual in the sense that she has ‘popified’ traditional Swedish folk music, and she takes the ‘earthy qualities’ of folk music and pushes them into something contemporary. The outcome is a blend of traditional fiddle-driven melodies with electronic textures, led by Parkman’s powerful voice. There is something both ancient and modern about it. However, the show is exactly the same as at the Roskilde Festival – even the setlist is the same – and with a schedule as intense as today, I left after the first six songs to catch the next band on the list – just to realize I hadn’t checked the schedule and, in fact, had time off. Quick run to Subway just outside the festival area to refill energy for the next twelve hours – check!
After a late lunch / early dinner, it was time to head back to the Linné stage and watch one of the hottest local bands, Nektar. The boys are still in upper secondary school but have already released their critically acclaimed debut album ‘Om du behöver mig’ last year. All my Gothenburg friends who have been to heaps of Nektar over the last year also help me to raise the expectation bar quite high. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one with expectations; the Linné stage was completely full. Love to see how people come out to support the local acts and help push their careers to reach outside Gothenburg. It is a massive shot of youthful energy with lots of movement and attitude, and it quickly spread into the crowd. There’s massive movement in the front already under their first song, ‘Faller’, with people singing along, dancing, and edging closer to the stage. However, my friends are wrong; it’s not good, it’s f-ing brilliant! If they get the right label support, Nektar will have a bright future in the Swedish music scene.
The next two hours I get through Ravyn Lenae, Geese (don’t get the hype), Nu Genea, and Blood Orange (really don’t get the hype), but nothing really strikes a nerve, save for some good moments at the Ravyn Lenae gig. Instead, I saved some energy for what was about to come, and just twenty minutes after Blood Orange, The Hives were about to enter the Flamingo stage. This was also the moment I realized the schedule wouldn’t work. I had to skip out on Fcukers and Lambrini Girls, but I watched both bands at Primavera Sound back in June and thought I’d better watch other bands instead.
I was at my first The Hives concert at the Hultsfred Festival in 1998 and would never have imagined the garage punk quintet would be even better in 2026. The Hives remain one of the most reliable and explosive live acts around, and few bands can match their energy, humour, and audience interaction. And with a frontman like Howlin Pelle, who constantly teases, challenges, and encourages the crowd, they’re set for another amazing 25 years in the scene. From the moment they hit the stage, they unleash their trademark combination of swagger and barely contained chaos, turning Slottsskogen into a playground for some of the loudest and most intense garage punk experiences of the festival. The Hives are about the show, not technical perfection or complex lyrical content (although Pelle points out that The Hives are the best band on everything). Pelle is simultaneously a vocalist, showman, comedian, ringleader, and prankster; his brother and guitarist, Nicholaus Arson, plays short, sharp riffs, choppy power chords, and tightly controlled bursts of guitar while showing off in the same manner as Pelle.
And they delivered heaps of hits from their treasure box – ‘Main Offender’, ‘Hate To Say I Told You So’, the brilliant ‘Come On’, ‘Tick Tick Boom’, ‘Walk Idiot Walk’ to mention a few. This was it; the best gig of the festival. Howlin Pelle pointed out that two bands are playing later tonight – Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds and The Cure – in better slots, but it’s not because they’re better than The Hives; it’s because The Hives let them play later. The humour! Despite their 30-year career, they bring more energy to the stage than any newcomer does today.
Just after The Hives left the stage, Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds started on the opposite stage. Now, I’ve never been a huge Nick Cave fan, but I always love the authenticity he brings to the stage and the way he pulls people into his sphere of pain and suffering during one hour of music. However, tonight it doesn’t work out for me at all. It may have been the cramps and back pains that just started (I didn’t have a chance to sit down for eight hours and I started to feel it in my legs and my back) because the show was absolutely brilliant. But being in the mood for Nick Cave requires something extra. Despite that, I watched most of the show but in bits and pieces because I ran back and forth to the only place that wasn’t overcrowded to sit down and rest in between. It has been an intense festival summer with heaps of fun, but it comes with a price: your body needs to rest. Anyhow, I’ve already decided I wanted to save up for the last show of the night, The Cure in an hour – for the third time this summer.
The Cure ended Way Out West’s second day with two hours of glorious contradiction: sadness vs euphoria. It was the third time this summer, but unlike any other bands I’ve watched several times during the festival season, The Cure is the only band that makes huge changes in their setlist. Watching them at Primavera Sound and at the Roskilde Festival was like watching different bands. With such a huge discography, they seem to dig out the best songs they want to play based on how they feel when they wake up in the morning. For fans, that’s something extraordinary. Sure, they will always play ‘Friday I’m In Love’, ‘Just Like Heaven’, and ‘Boys Don’t Cry’, but the rest of the setlist is a surprise. I’ve also restored some energy by filling up with electrolytes plus some energy bars, and was ready for two hours. Well, my bladder wasn’t, and I had to squeeze out of the crowd twice, but I didn’t miss much.
The Way Out West set opened with ‘Alone’ and ‘Pictures of You’, thus easing the audience into their moody atmosphere. The early part of the set was dark, atmospheric and occasionally hypnotic, with ‘Lovesong’ and ‘Fascination Street’ – two of my favorites – reminding everyone just how extraordinary their catalogue remains. Robert Smith himself was the picture of understated charisma. There is little traditional frontman showmanship; instead, he wandered the stage, occasionally breaking into some sort of dance while his voice remained remarkably powerful. I mean, the man is 67 and still possesses that instantly recognisable, wounded vocal tone that is the trademark for the band. I didn’t think I would appreciate another The Cure gig this summer because I’m not a huge fan and have never been. But this was yet another amazing show, maybe not as good as the Primavera Sound gig, but still up there on my Top 20 list this year. The second festival day finally had its epic ending. Well almost.
We headed off to Folk for two Stay Out West gigs, but were clearly more focused on hanging out in the bar and drink beer and wine. And when Drefvet’s photographer had filled up with wine and lost his ability to communicate, we thought it was time to head back to the hotel to get some sleep.
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Waking up on the final festival day comes with a brutal reminder of everything the past few days (well, the whole festival summer) have put your body through. Every step, every hour spent standing in the crowd has finally caught up with you, leaving your legs heavy, your back aching, and muscles protesting with every movement. I’ve spent 24 days at festivals this summer, and although it has been amazing – the best festival summer in 15 years – I’m not cut out for it anymore. The excitement is still there, but so is the overwhelming feeling that your body is running on fumes. After days of walking from stage to stage and throwing yourself into the music, you’re in dire need of rest, preferably a bed, a long shower, and several hours of doing absolutely nothing. And yeah, a massage. Someone has to work on this body for two hours to make its basic functions work again.
The last day of the Way Out West Festival is the least exciting festival day. It’s some really big bands, like Sombr, Gorillaz, and Lorde, but it’s bands that never pass through my vinyl player at home – ever. However, there are some sweet pieces left: today is about nostalgia with Saint Etienne and finally catching gigs by Swedish bands Terra and Svart Ridå. A long breakfast and some rest after breakfast made it a late departure from our hotel, but we needed some time off before heading off to watch the first band on today’s gig list, Saint Etienne.
There’s a particular kind of excitement that comes with seeing a band you haven’t witnessed live since the 1990s. The last I was at a Saint Etienne show was back in 1997, in Bristol. Let’s say that both the band and I have aged.
As Saint Etienne take the stage, memories of an era when their shimmering blend of indie pop, house and electronic beats provided the soundtrack to countless nights and hazy mornings returned. There’s nostalgia in the air, a thrill of discovering whether a band that meant so much decades ago can still spark that same rush. And yes, they can.
The set was a nostalgic rush that proved the trio’s sophisticated pop still has plenty of life in it. Sarah Cracknell and Co eased into a catalogue of indie pop hits that have defined the band for more than three decades, but the performance was soon thrown into chaos when the sound repeatedly cut out, forcing the band offstage. Yet rather than letting the technical disaster derail the mood, Saint Etienne kept their good humour intact, with Cracknell even joking about heading to the bar while the problems were sorted (we did). Once the sound returned, the band wasted no time getting back into their groove, delivering favourites including ‘Like a Motorway’ and my absolute favorite, ‘He’s on the Phone’. The setbacks may have shortened the set, but no one cared because everyone was here for the nostalgia and got what they wanted. Does their sound stand the test of time? No. It was the sound of the 90s, and I love it, but it has no place in the modern music scene anymore. However, I’d love to see them swing by the nostalgia festivals I frequently visit; there’s a huge market for bands like Saint Etienne.
It was time for a break, one of many today when there aren’t many bands that catch my interest. What to do? Hanging out in the bar(s), of course! When there’s no particularly exciting band on stage, the festival bar suddenly becomes the place to be. That’s the rule. The better the lineup is, the less you drink. If you turned up pissed before midnight, it’s evidence of a crappy lineup.
After hours of walking between stages, standing in packed crowds and trying to take in as many bands as possible, there’s something wonderfully relaxing about simply sitting down and doing nothing for a while. And that’s what we did: sat down with a few Red Bull Vodkas in a small bar not many people found. After a second round of RBVs it was time for an analysis. Last year, I may have said that I wouldn’t return because of being frustrated about too many people at the festival. The festival grounds, Gothenburg’s biggest city park, Slottsskogen, felt way too small last year, and it wasn’t easy to walk between the stages at all, even if they are very close to each other. This year the festival sold out super early and let even more people in, and I thought, ‘What the fuck are they doing?!’. I was convinced that it would be complete chaos this year, but to my surprise it wasn’t a problem at all this year. How they did it, I don’t know, because the area can’t get any bigger. There’s a natural physical limit that can’t be crossed. But it didn’t feel overcrowded this year at all.
The prices at the food stalls are still ridiculous. It’s so pricey that it hurts an overpaid academic’s pockets every time you buy something. Or how about 6€ for an ice cream, 8€ for a 33cl beer, and around 12-15€ for a normal lunch. No wonder I went outside the area to eat (there’s a restaurant area about 200m from the festival). If I were 18 years old and attended my first festival, I would have had to live off air. Do something about it! There’s no way it cost this much to buy stuff for a sausage or a simple wok. Luckily, the third RBV made me less frustrated, and after the fourth I forgot what I was frustrated about and started to check the running order instead. I left my crew passed by indie oldies Wilco and Swedish pop queen Veronica Maggio for a few songs each before I headed out and got me a ‘mosbricka’ and more time to relax. Went back, watched electronic club legends Maribou State, continued to Lorde for a few songs before I found some old friends to share beers with. And then it was time for Terra.
Few bands embody the spirit of Gothenburg’s indie scene quite like Terra. Since emerging with their debut Terrarism in 2016, the quartet has steadily transformed themselves from a local hidden gem into one of Sweden’s most established indie rock acts. And here I was at my first Terra gig ever. And what a show they did!
Playing their biggest Way Out West stage yet, the Gothenburg band walked into a packed Linné tent and were immediately swallowed by an audience that obviously has followed the band since they started. Already from the opening notes, the crowd took over and loudly sang the lyrics of ‘Glöm mitt namn’ and ‘Du ser bara ljuset i mig’ – just an epic feeling of homecoming. There is something genuinely moving about watching a local band return to their hometown festival and realise that the small rooms and student gigs are now a distant memory. Frontman Karl Sundström visibly embraces it, feeding off the affection pouring back from the crowd. By the time ‘Underbara saker kommer hända oss’ brings the set to its end, there’s no energy left. I try to squeeze myself through a packed crowd of sweaty bodies, but it’s pointless, and I sit down on a small bar and just wait for everyone to leave. Could it get better than this today? The answer is yes, and the reason is named Svart Ridå.
Ronneby-formed Svart Ridå have rapidly become one of the most exciting names in Sweden’s new wave of indie rock. Built around Moa Swanström’s furious guitar work, Tuva Gustavsson’s bass and vocals, and Kajsa Westergren’s drumming, the trio combines noisy indie rock with shoegaze textures. Their second album, Aponia, pushed them further into the spotlight, while a string of acclaimed live shows and three GAFFA Award wins in 2026 confirmed their status as a band on the rise.
Playing the relatively small Höjden stage while Gorillaz hauled in the people to the festival’s main stage could have left Svart Ridå in the shadows. Instead, people turned up in masses, making it a great opportunity for the band to reach out to a new audience, and they took the chance. From the opening blast, the trio attacks their songs with intensity, transforming their dark indie into something much bigger and more visceral. Swanström throws herself into the guitar, while the band constantly teeters between controlled noise and complete chaos. It is a perfect festival finale of the festival and we all want more. Svart Ridå may have played in the shadow of a much bigger act, but by the end it feels increasingly obvious that they won’t be playing small stages forever. Verdict? The best Swedish band to play at this year’s Way Out West Festival.
Now, you would think it ended here, but the drunk photographer from the other night and I headed off to Bananpiren to watch Les Big Byrd (and the last songs of the Iceage gig). But it was a horrible experience. Not the band; they did a great job, but my body gave up, and I got cramps in both my legs. That was it; my body told me it was enough for this summer and that I shouldn’t book six festivals in seven weeks. Maybe I have to rethink my strategy next year. Wheelchair?
This was fun! Way Out West Festival 2026 got me back on track, and there may be a good chance that I will turn up next year as well.
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Photographers: Richard Bloom, Björn Vallin och Andreas Ljungman
