Wildlands Perth 2026: Running Wild, Holding Space, Letting Music Carry Us

- Arena Joondalup Booraloo Saturday 3rd January 2026 -

Wildlands Perth doesn’t unfold politely. 

It sprawls. 

It pulses. 

It demands movement. 

By the time the sun climbed high over Arena Joondalup, thousands of people were already filtering between stages — chasing beats, shade, water, and moments. With three stages spread across massive grounds, it was never going to be possible to see everything. You make choices, you miss sets, you trust that the music you don’t catch is finding someone else who needs it. 

I didn’t make it to the very end of the night, but I ran hard, felt deeply, and saw enough to know this: 

Wildlands didn’t just kick off 2026 — it held it open. 

Early Hours: Small Crowds, Big Energy 

The day cracked open on the Sahara stage with BRAT, and even as people were still arriving, she didn’t dial a single thing back. No half-assing. No warming up. Just confidence, fun, and a clear statement: this is happening now. 

You could feel the crowd start to gather — not because they were told to, but because they were drawn in. Her set flew by in that way early festival sets often do: blink and it’s over, but the tone is set. 

Right after, Miss Kaninna took the same stage and raised the stakes entirely. Multilingual music has always hit me straight in the chest, and she delivered with power, pride, and presence. We heard language, we heard truth, we heard lived experience — capped with a welcome from an Elder that grounded the moment. 

The crowd had grown, but honestly? 

It still felt too small for someone this commanding. 

Rock, Sweat & Hustling Between Worlds 

Next came Balu Brigada, bringing full-bodied rock energy and pulling the crowd in with ease. Even with a few technical hiccups, they didn’t lose momentum for a second — a reminder that festivals are about shared energy, not perfection. 

By this point, the reality of Wildlands had kicked in: 

Three stages. 

Huge grounds. 

Constant decision-making. 

You miss one thing to catch another. You hustle. You commit. 

I made it to the Summit tent just in time to watch Fcukers absolutely go off. Heat disappeared. Time disappeared. The crowd jumped, locked in, completely consumed by the beat — one of those sets where you forget everything except where your feet are landing. 

Intensity Builds: Defiance, Beats & Release 

Back at the Sahara stage, 070 Shake delivered a defiant, powerful performance as the crowd thickened. Shade was scarce, but commitment wasn’t. As the afternoon wore on, it became clear this side of the festival was being rewarded — the energy was only going to build. 

Then came a complete shift in atmosphere. 

Inside the Summit tent, Chris Stussy lifted the place into motion. Bodies everywhere. Smiles everywhere. The temperature had dropped just enough for people to fully lose themselves — and they did, joyfully and without hesitation. 

This was the release valve moment of the day. 

Pop, Spectacle & a Quiet Break to Breathe 

I ran back to Sahara for Addison Rae, and the difference was instant. Mystery, choreography, polish — she drew the crowd in from the first beat. If the DJ set felt busy, this felt dense. Wall-to-wall bodies. 

There were clear echoes of early Britney Spears — the movement, the command, the connection with the crowd — and people ate it up. Confetti cannons. Addison Dollars. Pure pop theatre. 

And then… reality hit. 

As she sang Diet Pepsi, surrounded by loved-up couples, I slipped away for air. Not because the performance wasn’t incredible — it was — but because sometimes music opens things you weren’t planning to feel.

That’s part of festivals too. You hold joy and grief in the same hands and keep moving.

Or find a place to cry, before pulling yourself together to try and find the joy. 

Holding On, Then Letting Go 

By the time Kid Cudi took the stage, the crowd had nearly reached full intensity. Over twenty years into his career, his ease showed — not through ego, but through connection. Song after song landed with recognition, thousands of voices singing along to music they’ve lived with for years. 

Knowing Dom Dolla was still to come, I made the call to leave. Not because the night wasn’t building — but because it was. Being there without my partner, in a crowd that full, with emotions that close to the surface, was more than I could hold. 

I was there because it’s what Tay wanted me doing — pushing for BTN, showing up for musicians, keeping the dream moving. Even if that meant stepping away to cry sometimes. 

Showing up still counted. 

The Unsung Heroes 

If there’s one thing that truly stood out across the entire day, it was care. 

Security keeping a close eye before issues could escalate. 

Sunscreen stations everywhere. 

Water constantly available. 

Red Frogs checking in, no questions asked. 

At an event this size, that matters. A lot. 

The Wildlands team put in the hard work — and it showed. They created an environment where people could enjoy the music safely, be looked after, and feel supported while running wild. 

Final Thoughts 

Wildlands Perth is many things at once: chaotic, joyful, exhausting, euphoric. You won’t see everything — and you’re not meant to. You’re meant to find your moments, hold what you can, and let the rest go. 

For me, this was a day of music, movement, and doing my best to show up anyway. 

And that’s what Wildlands did best — it made space for all of it and all of us. 

By Uncle Tatt — host of “Between the Notes,”  

Where music meets life, and there's room for every version of you that shows up.