Riding on the heels of the Coachella Music Festival, cowboys and cowgirls descended upon Indio for Stagecoach 2026. Dusty, spray-tanned patrons made their way through the gates as three weeks worth of dry grass rode atop the wind and into their nasal passages.
Day One was for the ladies, as all of the female acts dominated the afternoon and early evening performances. Larkin Poe opened the day rocking just as, if not harder than, their recordings; the 22-year-old Avery Anna worked the mainstage like a seasoned pro in the making; Noah Cyrus demonstrated that she’s really found her legs in country as she played a set reminiscent of a Southern Gothic Revival; Wynonna Judd across the way also invoked her religious roots with a gospel-tinged hootenany; and Ella Langley proved she’s positioning herself as "the next big thing" with a headline worthy performance at the main stage.
The men weren’t all bad though. Lyle Lovett and his band put on a mature performance of jazz-inspired country, while Cody Johnson, the actual headliner, ended the night with a classic West Texas honky tonk, bringing together the multiplicity of genres heard across the day into one holistic performance of exemplary country music.
Near the end of his 90-minute set he got uncomfortably passionate about the thin blue line and saluting police officers, but he reeled himself in and thanked all service workers and first-responders before finishing the night off with a telecaster-tinged bang.
At the far end of the fair grounds, living in a world apart from the denim-clad cowgirls rocking the stages, was Diplo’s Honky Tonk, an EDM tent space that hosted DJs like Marshmello, Diplo, and Ashlee Simpson. Anyone lucky enough to slip away to the Honky Tonk in between Ella Langley and Cody Johnson witnessed the privilege of Rebecca Black’s DJ set, where she put on a transcendental show of house, techno, and meme-fueled remixing. Her performance was more than just a light break from country music – it was one of the most stand-out performances of the entire festival.
S.G. Goodman opened Day Two with a taste of Southern Gothic Americana. It’s shameful that they scheduled her to start five minutes after gates opened at the stage farthest from the entrance, meaning anyone trying to catch the start of the set had to book it across the field to make it to the start on time. “I wish more people were here,” said Taylor, a fan from L.A. who sang every word to every song. “What terrible scheduling, she deserves better.” She and her companion Jordan, who flew from Wyoming, were frustrated. “This is the best set of the weekend so far, and there’s no one here to see it,” Jordan said.
The slow afternoon trailed on with styles of country that were in sharp contrast with the women of the previous day. While Saturday’s music was progressive, innovative, and evocative of a wide variety of genres, the men of Saturday’s line-up all sounded generic, imitative, and run-of-the-mill. Although Benjamin Tod stood out for having a rooted, traditional country sound, the rest did little to stand out amid a backdrop of bravado-filled bro country, the likes of which would have Johnny Cash spinning in his grave if he bothered to care (which he wouldn’t).
At six o’clock, the heavy winds began to pick up, just in time to give the women of Little Big Town the best blowouts of their career. With their beautiful hair flowing in the wind, and a long list of smash hits playing back-to-back, Little Big Town had that headliner charisma only akin to Fleetwood Mac. Their on-stage chemistry was palpable, and their crowd work was impeccable. For just a moment, the last light of the evening sun peeked through the clouds to illuminate the band in a celestial glow.
At 7:45 PM, shit hit the fan. As the main stage prepared for Riley Green, and others moseyed to the Mustang stage to get good spots for Journey, the winds picked up ferociously. When it seemed like the palm trees were ready to rip from the ground, every screen across the festival ground turned blood red: “EMERGENCY EVACUATION–THE FESTIVAL HAS BEEN POSTPONED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE–PLEASE MOVE QUICKLY AND CALMLY TO THE NEAREST EXIT.” People erupted into panic.
Swarms of people pushed their way to the exit, forcing their way through bottlenecks, shoving others with their elbows as they squeezed together through the gates like sheep through a shearing chute. Amid the confusion, many of the participants were angry with the evacuation, and some even refused to leave, like Ryan, a 16-year-old from Newport Beach begging escapees for a vape. “I don’t give a fuck, let’s party. The wind will stop,” he said. “Shit happens, it’s a good time!”
While most were angry, many participants were relieved the festival was prioritizing their safety. “I’m pissed about it, but I’d rather be safe,” said Raul, who came from Los Angeles with his wife. Once the crowd made it through the gates, and onto the long wide path towards the parking lot, they began to sing John Denver’s “Take Me Home Country Road,” in an act of fraternal resilience.
Unfortunately, that fraternity ended in the parking lot where patrons chaotically tried to exit, ignoring traffic rules and driving as if they were the only ones trying to leave. The commotion exploded when, at 8:37 PM, a text alert went out on the Stagecoach app that the festival was back on. While some patrons were trying to leave, others were now trying to get back in. Others did not receive the notification, and some just didn’t believe it, nor care.
Sergio, a musician who claims to have been Post Malone’s drummer, did not receive the text alert, but felt that even if the music was back on it was better to leave. “As a musician, I thought it was a good call,” he said. “I think things will calm down, but it’s good to keep people safe.” Mackenzie, who had come with her mom and sister, was drunk and angry. “Everybody’s safety is more important, but I wish we could stay,” she said from the back seat of her mom’s Rav-4. “They kind of ruined the night for no reason, it turned from an evacuation into a traffic jam. The wind isn’t even that bad — this ain’t Mary Poppins, we ain’t flying away!”
By 9 PM a band of about 20 beautiful women were running through the parking lot like the nymphs of Artemis, going car to car telling people the show was back on. With their lacy frocks flowing in the wind, they helped re-park cars, direct traffic, and guide lost people at the exit back to the entrance. The Stagecoach app sent an updated concert schedule, pushing Lainey Wilson back to 10:30 PM, Pitbull to 12 AM and cancelling both Riley Greene and Journey’s performances entirely.
The crowd that slowly formed in front of Wilson’s stage was mostly young, but also ecstatic. Although the wind had been mostly taken out of everyone’s sails, there seemed to be enough energy to go around to get people to rally and be excited for her performance. Wilson brought out Riley Green and Little Big Town as guests, and the show went on as if nothing had ever happened.
On Day Three it was all quiet on the western front as people slowly made their way into the grounds, exhausted from the night before. Ink and Amos Lee opened the day with passionate performances at their respective stages, and Lee welcomed Remi Wolf as a special guest. That afternoon also saw the best “smaller act” of the weekend: honky tonk extraordinaire Jake Worthington. Playing in the shade of the Bud Light stage, Worthington had the biggest hat in the whole place and played like it too.
On the other side of the grounds, the Mustang stage became a mecca for American Millenials. The Wallflowers performed back-to-back with Third Eye Blind and Hootie & the Blowfish. Meanwhile the Zoomer crowd packed themselves into Wyatt Flores’ set, where the young up-and-coming star put on a passionate performance that, while lacking in musical profundity, was rife with heart.
This all paved the way for the greatest performance of the weekend: Brooks & Dunn. These "hard workin’ men" had the entire population of the festival funneling to the main stage, and when the band opened with “Brand New Man,” the crowd erupted. Their performance was a culmination of decades of country music — a demonstration of what the genre was like at its peak, before the toxic, hyper-nationalism following 9/11 burrowed its way into country music, contaminating the genre with chest-thumping, beer-drinking, ‘love my wife, drive my tractor’ anti-intellectualism.
The night ended with a performance by the festival headliner, Post Malone. While this reporter did not appreciate his performance, it was undeniable that the enormous crowd was having a splendid time, singing along to every song and loving every second of it. While Malone’s singing leaves much to be desired, and his country music lacks any sort of authenticity, he has seemingly abandoned all signs of hip hop culture. The egregious product placement of Bud Light made the show feel like a 2-hour commercial (final count: he opened 8 cans of Bud Light, and posed for a drink 14 times), but his stage presence was electric, he was stupendously flamboyant, and he was incredibly humble.
By the end of the weekend, Stagecoach 2026 demonstrated that country music is alive and well thanks to the legacy acts that never lost their rugged, country edge, and a new generation of women that are developing the genre into innovative and exciting territory. Just like any other genre, mediocrity abounds and commercialism is rampant, but there’s plenty of great music if you’re willing to look for it. Hopefully next year the winds will be softer, the music will be louder, and the set list will have more Jake Worthingtons.
Special shout-out: Guy Fieri’s Stagecoach Smokehouse
While the festival catered the usual festival food fare, burgers, hot dogs, food stands, etc., Stagecoach welcomed Guy Fieri’s Smokehouse. All day, Fieri and his cooks were outside smoking meats, grilling ribs, and lathering brisket in bbq sauce, available for purchase at tents lined alongside the outdoor kitchen. Not only was it the most delicious festival food I have ever had, it was also the most affordable.
While Dave’s Hot Chicken was charging $30 for a pre-made reheated chicken sandwich, Fieri was selling his freshly made burgers for $26. He also had beef-brisket sandwiches, pulled pork, spare ribs, brisket loaded fries, and all other sorts of southern-style comfort foods, all for less than what other vendors were providing, AND the meat was prepared on-site, by him and his crew. Shout-out to Guy Fieri, a man of the people.
