REVIEW: Laneway Brisbane – A Genre-Bending Fever Dream
Laneway 2025 felt like stepping into a fever dream—a wild, genre-blurring ride where indie ballads melted into bass-heavy chaos, where mosh pits clashed with hypnotic club rhythms, and where the Brisbane sun beat down relentlessly, fuelled the madness. The air was thick with sweat, dust, and the electric hum of a crowd ready to lose themselves in the music.
Joey Valence & Brae wasted no time throwing the crowd into full-throttle mayhem. Their breakbeat-fuelled, punk-rap energy was straight out of the ‘90s, packed with shout-along hooks and drum breaks that had bodies flying before noon. A pit opened within minutes, trainers skidding across the dust as people jumped, shoved, and shouted like it was the last show of their lives.
Then came Remi Wolf, a neon explosion of funk and attitude. She strutted across the stage like she owned the festival, which—judging by the way the crowd screamed every lyric—she kind of did. 'Sauce' turned the front row into a bouncing, technicolour wave, her voice cutting through the heat with effortless charisma. Every note felt like an adrenaline shot, keeping the energy at a fever pitch.
Djo’s set was one of the festival’s most anticipated moments—it marked his first-ever Australian show, and the crowd made sure he felt the love. From the moment he stepped on stage, there was a sense of something special in the air. His sound, an intoxicating blend of psych-rock and synth-laced grooves, washed over the crowd in waves. Songs stretched and warped, twisting through layers of shimmering guitars and hazy vocals before bursting into full, ecstatic release. By the time 'End of Beginning' hit, the crowd was fully locked in, swaying as if hypnotised, taking in every note of a debut performance that felt nothing short of historic.
As the sun dipped lower, Clairo’s set offered a moment of calm amidst the festival’s intensity. The crowd swayed, lost in the soft melodies and subtle instrumentals, creating a relaxed, intimate vibe. It wasn’t a performance that demanded attention, but rather one that naturally captivated everyone in the moment.
As the sun dipped lower, Stum took the decks and shifted the festival into another gear entirely. His set was a masterclass in movement—pulsing techno and trance rhythms laced with mind-melting acid moments that had the
Then, Beabadoobee brought everything back down to a dreamy, nostalgia-drenched haze. Her grunge-tinted melodies and dreamy guitar work felt like a love letter to the ‘90s, washing over the crowd in slow motion. People swayed, some with their eyes closed, some perched on shoulders, all lost in the warmth of her sound.
Barry Can’t Swim took that warmth and spun it into something completely different—a groove-heavy, sun-drenched dance party. His fusion of house, jazz, and breakbeat was effortless, the kind of set that made you move without thinking. Deep basslines and shimmering synths pulsed through the crowd, turning the Showgrounds into a glowing, late-afternoon oasis.
Then came the festival’s ultimate dilemma—Good Better Best or Jockeys Stage? Pop spectacle or underground euphoria? Charli XCX and Bicep went head-to-head to close out the night, each commanding their own kind of chaos.
At the Good Better Best stage, Charli delivered a set that felt like a hyperpop-fuelled riot. Brat is the album of the summer, and Brisbane showed up knowing every word. She didn’t just perform; she detonated. 'Von Dutch' and '360; sent the energy into overdrive, bodies bouncing so hard it felt like the ground might crack beneath them. And when 'Vroom Vroom' hit, it was pure, unfiltered chaos—a cyclone of flashing lights, stomping feet, and neon-drenched bedlam.
Photo by @hredcliffe
Meanwhile, over at the Jockeys Stage, Bicep were in complete control of a different kind of madness. Their 'Chroma*'AV show wasn’t just a set—it was an out-of-body experience. Hypnotic visuals pulsed across massive LED screens, washing the crowd in deep reds, electric blues, and shifting neon grids that felt like stepping into a digital dreamscape. The music hit just as hard—deep, rolling basslines, fractured breakbeats, and ethereal synths weaving into a set that felt both immersive and infinite. 'Glue' hit like a tidal wave, hands reaching skyward, bodies moving in slow-motion euphoria. For those who chose the Jockeys Stage, this wasn’t just a festival closer—it was a portal into something surreal.
Laneway 2025 wasn’t just a festival—it was an odyssey through sound, a day where every stage offered something unexpected. From breakbeat-fuelled chaos to sun-drenched nostalgia, from hypnotic techno to euphoric pop spectacle, the festival refused to be defined by a single genre. The heat was relentless, the energy unstoppable, and by the time the final basslines faded, Brisbane was left buzzing.
Whether you came for the anthems, the underground gems, or just to lose yourself in the moment, one thing was certain—Laneway 2025 delivered an experience that won’t be forgotten anytime soon. crowd locked in a hypnotic groove. Sweaty bodies swayed and stomped in sync as the relentless 303 basslines bubbled and twisted through the speakers. Each drop hit like a shockwave, sending hands shooting into the air as strobes cut through the thick Brisbane heat. It was the kind of set that made time blur, a relentless trip into the deepest corners of underground dance music.
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