Weird Al and Kesha Set Bonnaroo 2026 Ablaze with Epic Festival Drama

Mia Reynolds, 12/3/2025Bonnaroo 2026 promises a vibrant comeback after last year's washout, showcasing an eclectic lineup with headliners like The Strokes and Kesha. Expect a mix of genres, upgraded amenities, and a renewed sense of community as festival-goers embrace the magic of music and resilience in Tennessee.

Set your sights on 700 acres rolling out beneath a Tennessee sky, dotted with stages and, for the first time, miles of fresh roads and a thick, green sweep of new turf. Even the most poetic heart can appreciate the practicality—yes, Bonnaroo remains muddy in spirit if not always in practice. Locals might recall the days when music and mud wrestled for center stage, but no one’s exactly complaining about the drainage upgrades. This is progression, even if it means trading in just a touch of rustic chaos.

The 2026 slate leans hard into sonic variety, threading the old with the new in a lineup that feels almost competitive in its ambition. The Strokes, forever the crown princes of indie ennui, have taken the Friday night top slot—because nothing says "homecoming" like a crowd swaying to Julian Casablancas’ languid croon as the sun drifts behind the main stage. Skip ahead (or, perhaps, backward in the schedule), and Skrillex is set to jolt Thursday’s crowd awake with a set best described as an electronic promenade—if promenades had subwoofers and strobe lights.

For those whose festival tastes run sweeter, Sunday brings Noah Kahan’s weathered, rootsy confessionals. His voice cuts through a field quite unlike anyone else’s—equal parts campfire and cathedral. Somewhere in between the headliners, Bonnaroo finds plenty of room for the unexpected: Turnstile’s bracing punk workouts, Major Lazer’s no-holds-barred genre pinball, and Four Tet weaving his digital spell. Forget predictability; the only sure thing is the collective sprint between stages.

And, of course, Kesha—never the sort to fade quietly into a festival’s background—is at the helm of this year’s Superjam. Word around the farm is “KESHA PRESENTS: SUPERJÂM ESOTERÍCA: THE ALCHEMY OF POP” is both a mouthful and a promise; folkloric meets funk, glitter collides with groove. She’ll take the stage again Sunday for a solo set, keeping the energy comfortably pitched somewhere between dancefloor fever-dream and honest-to-goodness singalong. Glitter probably not optional.

Then comes the wild-card energy: “Weird Al” Yankovic commandeers the Saturday late-night slot with the sort of spectacle reserved for only the most unhinged among us. One guesses “Bigger & Weirder Saturday Late Night Roovue” will be, well—bigger, weirder, and hard to explain to friends who opted out.

Some lineups play it safe, aiming for a gentle middle ground. Not so here. Blood Orange paints in dreamy sound, The Neighbourhood brings moody hooks, Freddie Gibbs & The Alchemist blend grit and style, Alabama Shakes return with that swamp-rock howl, and Modest Mouse resurfaces—wry and woolly as ever, perhaps feeling a bit like lost friends returning after a storm. Wolfmother, Blondshell, Rainbow Kitten Surprise, even Wet Leg—the roll call could make any record shop owner giddy.

It bears mentioning that, after last year’s cancellation, gratitude has found its way into the festival planning. Tickets go on sale early December, and by all accounts, organizers are pulling out all the stops: new amenities, flexible camping, and a slew of options for those who prefer their rock and roll with a side of modern convenience (read: nobody’s keen to relive that 2025 scramble for dry socks).

Some artists reappear after missing last year’s rainout—a quiet testament to loyalty, both theirs and the audience’s. That shared commitment runs deeper than last year’s mud. For a few shimmering days, strangers shed their city armor and form something like a tribe—one fueled by music, mischief, and the knowledge that these moments are fleeting and precious.

Expect the days to be long and the nights sprawling. Ten stages beckon, each promising its own breed of mayhem or magic. Evenings stretch lazily toward sunrise, conversations drift, songs linger. The anticipation for 2026 is unmistakable—equal parts relief and wild hope, with everyone collectively bracing for the next unpredictable turn. If nothing else, the promise of possibility floats over Bonnaroo like the scent of honeysuckle: uncontained and a little wild.

After the storm, the dancing resumes—boots newly cleaned, hearts the same as they ever were: wide open.

There’s something oddly comforting about the way music festivals recover from disaster. Bonnaroo’s 2026 return comes on the heels of a sodden memory—2025’s relentless downpour, which scuttled the party and left many tents, and tempers, thoroughly drenched. No one is eager to relive those swampy conditions. Still, resilience is quickly becoming part of the festival’s DNA, and as the gates open on the newly refreshed Manchester farmland, the sense in the air is as much restoration as it is revelry.Set your sights on 700 acres rolling out beneath a Tennessee sky, dotted with stages and, for the first time, miles of fresh roads and a thick, green sweep of new turf. Even the most poetic heart can appreciate the practicality—yes, Bonnaroo remains muddy in spirit if not always in practice. Locals might recall the days when music and mud wrestled for center stage, but no one’s exactly complaining about the drainage upgrades. This is progression, even if it means trading in just a touch of rustic chaos.The 2026 slate leans hard into sonic variety, threading the old with the new in a lineup that feels almost competitive in its ambition. The Strokes, forever the crown princes of indie ennui, have taken the Friday night top slot—because nothing says "homecoming" like a crowd swaying to Julian Casablancas’ languid croon as the sun drifts behind the main stage. Skip ahead (or, perhaps, backward in the schedule), and Skrillex is set to jolt Thursday’s crowd awake with a set best described as an electronic promenade—if promenades had subwoofers and strobe lights.For those whose festival tastes run sweeter, Sunday brings Noah Kahan’s weathered, rootsy confessionals. His voice cuts through a field quite unlike anyone else’s—equal parts campfire and cathedral. Somewhere in between the headliners, Bonnaroo finds plenty of room for the unexpected: Turnstile’s bracing punk workouts, Major Lazer’s no-holds-barred genre pinball, and Four Tet weaving his digital spell. Forget predictability; the only sure thing is the collective sprint between stages.And, of course, Kesha—never the sort to fade quietly into a festival’s background—is at the helm of this year’s Superjam. Word around the farm is “KESHA PRESENTS: SUPERJÂM ESOTERÍCA: THE ALCHEMY OF POP” is both a mouthful and a promise; folkloric meets funk, glitter collides with groove. She’ll take the stage again Sunday for a solo set, keeping the energy comfortably pitched somewhere between dancefloor fever-dream and honest-to-goodness singalong. Glitter probably not optional.Then comes the wild-card energy: “Weird Al” Yankovic commandeers the Saturday late-night slot with the sort of spectacle reserved for only the most unhinged among us. One guesses “Bigger & Weirder Saturday Late Night Roovue” will be, well—bigger, weirder, and hard to explain to friends who opted out.Some lineups play it safe, aiming for a gentle middle ground. Not so here. Blood Orange paints in dreamy sound, The Neighbourhood brings moody hooks, Freddie Gibbs & The Alchemist blend grit and style, Alabama Shakes return with that swamp-rock howl, and Modest Mouse resurfaces—wry and woolly as ever, perhaps feeling a bit like lost friends returning after a storm. Wolfmother, Blondshell, Rainbow Kitten Surprise, even Wet Leg—the roll call could make any record shop owner giddy.It bears mentioning that, after last year’s cancellation, gratitude has found its way into the festival planning. Tickets go on sale early December, and by all accounts, organizers are pulling out all the stops: new amenities, flexible camping, and a slew of options for those who prefer their rock and roll with a side of modern convenience (read: nobody’s keen to relive that 2025 scramble for dry socks).Some artists reappear after missing last year’s rainout—a quiet testament to loyalty, both theirs and the audience’s. That shared commitment runs deeper than last year’s mud. For a few shimmering days, strangers shed their city armor and form something like a tribe—one fueled by music, mischief, and the knowledge that these moments are fleeting and precious.Expect the days to be long and the nights sprawling. Ten stages beckon, each promising its own breed of mayhem or magic. Evenings stretch lazily toward sunrise, conversations drift, songs linger. The anticipation for 2026 is unmistakable—equal parts relief and wild hope, with everyone collectively bracing for the next unpredictable turn. If nothing else, the promise of possibility floats over Bonnaroo like the scent of honeysuckle: uncontained and a little wild.After the storm, the dancing resumes—boots newly cleaned, hearts the same as they ever were: wide open.