Written by: Laura Foster

Photography by: Peter Thor (@peter_thor_)

The final day of Unreal City Festival 2026 was not for the faint of heart. With food, drinks, tattoos, tarot, and about eight solid hours of music—sometimes in two places at once between the main stage and downstairs—there was much to experience for those determined (and in my case unemployed) enough to brave the day from start to finish.

3:00 Conduit packs a wallop for just three people. Flipping back and forth between vocalists, the trio is a little metallic, a little post-punk, and unafraid to swap out influences on a dime.

3:45 Downstairs, Grinch Simpson’s stripped-back performance is brimming with life with a dark undercurrent. Whirling electric guitar surfaces intermittently like howling wind through shrieking trees, and the effect is both striking and smoothing.

4:00 Small Pleasures is a two-piece that could easily be mistaken for having more players given the layers and depth of their sound. Their synchronization and chemistry is evident, as is their innovative sound and technical prowess. In a way it’s easier to notice more with only two players, such as how they kept playing without missing a beat even when having to right a drum mic that tipped over mid-set, and the clear trust between players that allowed them to do so.

4:45 Sundress is a slow burn. Their sound is powerful but also brooding—witchy vocalizations are punctuated by sharp guitar riffs, and songs build and build and build before exploding like dynamite. Sy has an enchanting stage presence that can convey sensuality and rage in a single breath, from honey-sweet to bloodcurdling, fury and euphoria. This is mirrored not only in the music but her movements as well—this serpentine way of oscillating between the body language of predator and prey is as hypnotic as it is exhilarating.  

5:30 Fulfilment is heart racing, each player is visibly leaning into the world of their instrument and fired up by the energy of the room. Even songs explicitly about protest have an uplifting quality, and by the end of the set the guitarist holds their instrument overhead like a trophy.

6:15 “Who here prefers being asleep to being awake?” asks Patrick Farrugia before playing a song called “April’s Dream”. He is a one-man show weaving dreamy layered vocals through a veil of warped guitar. Not without an element of surprise, though, “This song is named after one of the most devastating finishing moves in professional wrestling,” is the intro to the unexpectedly somber “Burning Hammer.”

6:30 GØØ is atmospheric and otherworldly, with a surprising approachability for such heavy music thanks in large part to Kell’s disarming nature as a performer. (The multi-colored lights and smoke machine are operating at full force by this point, adding to the transportive feeling.) “This band is the product of years of doubting myself,” he says at one break between songs, along with another statement which feels in keeping with the spirit of the weekend: “You are never alone.”

7:15 There is no vocalist in Bronze Medals, and in the absence of verbal communication, they operate like a living, breathing ecosystem—setting the scene in harmony before each instrument populates it with a specific color and texture. Ominous and numbing, each instrument melds together in the shape of a brewing storm.

8:00 Wack takes the stage in matching tracksuits, and as soon as the five-piece start their first song there are no brakes, acting more as a complex machine firing on all cylinders than five separate individuals. Rhythm and groove are more the stars of the show here than melody (and in fact the percussion is so strong with this group it shakes the table I’m writing on). Their energy is unmatched and contagious, the throttle of jammy psychedelia turning the temperature of the room all the way up.

8:45 Shore Loser is mellow and lowkey, though admittedly at this point in the evening they’re a bit hard to hear over the din of the crowd filling in downstairs. Their nostalgia and coziness are reminiscent of Christmas carols with some computer keyboard sounds thrown in for good measure, and the result is at once familiar and intriguing.

9:15 As the name suggests, the feeling Buddie evokes is that of a friend who putting their arm around your shoulders and telling you it’ll be okay. There is something inherently youthful about their music, whether it’s the grunge-pop harmonies and guitar chugs that scratch a familiar itch or the cautiously optimistic tone of the lyrics. It’s a band that knows when to lean in and when to leave some room—darkness and noise are part of the mix but never enough to feel harsh or alienate you from the story they’re trying to tell.

10:00 What can I say about Devours that hasn’t already been said? A local legend whose talent and versatility as an artist are matched only by their heart, they banish any lingering hesitation from the room and pull the crowd forward magnetically until everyone is pressed close to the stage. Bittersweet dance anthem choruses like “how it feels to worship you because you’re more masculine than me” entwined with electronic flourishes wash over the crowd, and as Devours steps off stage into the gyrating masses, the final act of the festival culminates in singularity: one sound (that of the room), one body (made up of all of ours), one three-day-long shared performance we all played a part in.