In the preceding days to Green Man Festival 2026, the air of anticipation lay low and heavy, could in the face of devastating climate events – droughts and wildfires – the festivals’ spirit overcome the communal thought that this is the new normal?
Green Man Fetsival has been running for over two decades, and its next iteration will be its silver jubilee. This time around, it sold-out almost instantaneously before the release of any line-up and that is because people trust the festival organisers, attendees know no matter what they will find a new favourite artist, have an unexpected experience, see one of their all-time favourites – for me, as last year, these were all true this time around.
After a late arrival in the dark on Thursday evening, with a light drizzle dampening the sun-scorched soil, I headed off for the Far Out stage to catch a glimpse of the promises that the weekend held. Starting at the End Times Pop Dungeon, a name perhaps perfectly suited to the contradictions of the world outside in relation to the sanctuary of this site and its location in Bannau Brycheiniog. For, Green Man can be described as a Utopia, not one abstract and pushed into futurity, but more akin to a ‘concrete Utopia’, one which strives to shape the future by enacting it in the real possibilities of actual events, using hope as an active, a dynamic mode of operation to create a desirable future. In this way, Green Man shows how we can create new relationships, exist in a place protected from unfettered hyper-capitalism and commodification, that if a festival can be free from endless advertisement and the constant bombardment of corporate gesturing, perhaps those lessons can perforate our collective imagination. That it is possible to take what we experience at the festival and realise it can seep into the external every-day, become materialised beyond the river and the road that bound Glanusk Estate.
KiosK
Westside Cowboy
From Friday morning the festival is in full-flow, Modern Woman provided the perfect start for what would be an almost unimaginable day of music. Vocalist Sophie Harries has a range that reminds of Kate Bush and their mix of folk and experimental art-rock provides a dizzying invitation into the weird, as if by walking into the Walled Garden one had stumbled into an alternate Wonderland – I was now captured in a dream that would not end until rising on Monday morning. KiosK on the Rising Stage served their “Leeds-tronica” to a strong crowd showing why they’ve gained a reputation in the underground and one can guess they’ll be returning the future. Westside Cowboy on the Mountain Stage was a crowded affair, their meteoric rise from Rising Stage to Mountain Stage in just a year does not go unappreciated by the group, “We were over there last year”, quipped vocalist and guitarist Jimmy Bradbury. If anything can signify the support that Green Man gives to emerging and upcoming acts it is this moment, their championing of the group has surely aided in the journey – perhaps Festival Republic could learn something from this, with their decision to axe the BBC Introducing Stage. Westside Cowboy deserve all the love the crowd gives to them; they finish their set all gathered around a single microphone with a joyful performance of ‘In The Morning’, as the rain finally pours all around. Compost Compost Compost’s wandering drone and otherworldly soundscapes parted the clouds and did not disappoint but instead exceeded expectations for a group that are getting a lot of recognition.
Compost Compost Compost
Ear
Onto the Far Out stage for the triple header of Maria Somerville, Ear, and Smerz. I had wanted to watch Dorothy but the rain had other plans, I implore any reader to check them out for yourselves. Ear had an intense physicality to their performance, bodies jerking with tones and tension of restraint in song that is to be exerted in corporeal movements. Hair waving with synth-etic dynamics – a physics of performativity – the blonde and brunette, a Yin and Yang in flux and the people danced similarity in the crowd swaying and bouncing. Smerz come on stage, if there was ever a showing of fame and glamourous existence, but with an air of cool naturalness, it is found here. However, a friend noted, and I had to agree, that their show felt as if I was watching a show, that there was a concert going on, on stage, but that they felt they were not quite invited in. For Smerz, there was also a lot of talking in the audience, and I was left with questions – no doubt emerging from recent discourses on the dancefloor. My listening to Smerz had mostly come in isolation, on buses and tubes, in the bedroom with headphones on – it’s a sonics that speaks to atomization. It does beg to the question, how does music for the individual relate to and come to provoke the crowd? Is this where the streaming and festival conflict plays out? People talk and clap between songs, clearly they’re engaged to the music, but it appears they almost want it to soundtrack their lives, pockets of conversational congregation amongst the masses. However, perhaps it is something else, in a cost-of-living crisis, our opportunities to gather and see our friends are diminishing, choices have to be made between socialising and saving, thus the festival comes somewhere we finally reunite – this means conversations, which they at times these are in conflict with the music we watch, perhaps it’s not the crowds fault but a society which makes moments of communal connection precarious.
Smerz
Aldous Harding
Aldous Harding with off-kilter pop, the absurdism of the music reflected in the silence of the crowd, for a packed out mainstage as the dark sets, only the music could be heard as the crowd payed a quiet homage to this magnificent performance. However, for me, it was cut short and I bounded towards Far Out for the absolute opposite, a thunderous party of joy and dance hosted by Getdown Services. The crowd spilled out of the tent, yet even those outside its blue roof jumped and hugged and danced to these infectious tunes, as if all at once from front to back we were diagnosed with a dancing disease. Pollyfromthedirt reflected on the insanity of nation-states with, “there’s no such thing as England”, with a lo-fi sound which calmed the nervous system after the shrill of the previous experience. Wilco, a group I have wanted to see for a long-time, fulfilled all my desires – with renditions of Impossible Germany and Jesus etc – and although it was not a packed-out Mountain Stage all who were there felt united under the Welsh stars. To close out the Walled Garden was Adult DVD (my favourite group I discovered last year). They delivered their electronic punk as the crowd ferally pushed and pulled each other around, it was their usual raucous live show which every time leaves you in applause, feeling energised, sleep was no longer a possibility, they had ignited an urge to dance – the night must go on…
Pollyfromthedirt
The perfect start to Saturday was Tamikrest who under the Sun provided space to slowly shrug off any remnants of a cloudy head. Prewn were a revelation, perhaps one of the finer sets of the weekend – not that it’s possible to even discern given the constant quality of music. Horsegirl, Marsey, Ora Cogan, and Iona Zajac provided a range of music that brought a more soulful, folkier side of the showcasing, each leaving me more and more mesmerised as I prepared for what would be another intense and lively evening. The Beta Band led the audience with hit after hit, a highlight of which was the crowd collectively singing ‘Dry The Rain’. A meteoric return by a group who show the years have done nothing to wane their support, in fact the age range in the crowd showed their music will be adored for many more years to come. Hugging a husband near twice my age, it is in that moment you realise and truly feel the intergenerational power of music, it speaks no to time but to an enduring sensation. Bathing Suits, it’s nigh on impossible to describe this experience without an intense amount of explicit language, so I will leave those out and merely describe it as mind-blowing. There was a clear consensus from the group we had witnessed something special, a true standout act of the weekend, it still lingers in the forefront of my mind days after. Sorry at the Walled Garden was a celebration of love and joy, the group conducted the crowd, shifting senses at the lick of a guitar and the pulse of synth. Sing-alongs and hugs, a true showing of why the group have become some deeply cherished. There was even some public nudity on stage, for some, amusement and for others, disgust. My soul was left feeling full after their performance, seeing the trajectory of their career live as they had moved around their discography with the precision of masters.
Bathing Suits
Sorry
Come Sunday, the legs begin to ache, eyes are blurry and stomachs rumble. If anything can settle the body and return it to equilibrium it was the music of Dermot Henry on the Rising Stage. Although young and at the beginning of what will surely be a long career, the singer rolled through their set with the wisdom of someone who’s played here before. Way Dynamic accompanied this journey to recovery to a rammed Walled Garden as many sought to see the Melbourne-based songwriter. Dove Ellis on the Mountain Stage restored all life, rejuvenation was complete. The young Galway musician with his fingerpicking and rolling piano captured the attention of the large crowd, a sincere and beautiful performance which lived-up to acclaim of his debut album, ‘Blizzard’. Only momentarily watching Paulie Swan, an artist I wished to have watched more of, but will certainly keep an eye and ear on for the future. Wednesday at the Far Out Stage surprisingly had some of the largest mosh-pits of the weekend, with thunderous vocals and clambering guitars, alongside purple strobes – the whole tent found the energy to jump in harmony to this brilliant performance. Wednesday certainly solidified their position as rock heroes. The already large crowd from Wednesday grew even larger for Fcukers who played more what felt like a party than a concert. The shaking audience were left lusting for more. I was converted by this performance, and the calls for “Free Palestine”, and a fuck-off to data centres shows this is a group whose ethos resonates with that of Green Man with its green agenda.
Dove Ellis
Fcukers
To close the festival was none other than Wolf Alice – I was surprised to learn they had never played the festival before. Words will fail to describe this moment, the serene joy at seeing a group who had so clearly sound-tracked many of lives in the audience, each song earning more and more joining in harmony to sing along. Bubbles were flying, faces filled with glee and this group transformed before our eyes into rockstars. We all howled at the Moon, shared special moments with friends and strangers recounting the unfathomability that we were fortunate enough to be at this spectacle, to be at this festival – that was coming to a close with this flawless performance.
Instead of burning the Green man this year, it was a communal sing along, to the tune of The Waterboy’s ‘The Whole of the Moon’, led by Green Man stalwart Pictish Trail. What other way is there to end a festival whose true message beyond anything seems to be we are merely stewards of this Earth, we must protect it, cherish it, and do it together.
All Photots by Anna Delf
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