Rock Werchter 2026, Werchter, Belgium: The Cure return for flawless full-circle headline

As the first day of music kicks off, one thing is immediately apparent: Belgian fans (and the healthy contingent of English and Irish people in attendance) really, really love their indie anthems. Despite a relatively early slot, The Vaccines have filled The Barn’s huge interior expanse, proving themselves to be kings of the two minute song with a warmly nostalgic, throwback-filled set built around the 15th anniversary of their beloved debut. Kasabian, meanwhile, are busy tearing up the Main Stage, interspersing rave-rock newer cuts from frontman Serge’s tenure behind the mic with the instantly-recognisable riffs of ‘Club Foot’ and ‘Shoot The Runner’.

Back at The Barn, Loyle Carner and JADE are both markedly less busy than you might expect (especially considering the latter’s Global Girl Band credentials), but there’s no doubting that those who are here are dedicated to the cause. Making for a heartening, emotion-filled pit-stop, Loyle’s performance is lifted to new heights by the adoring fans mouthing every word right along with him; it’s no mean feat, given his seamless flow, and the rapper’s appreciative glee is writ large across his face. For JADE, her live setup may be more dialled down (see also: her bonkers BRITs appearance), but she’s on a mission to amp things up, not least courtesy of irrepressible earworm ‘gossip’ and a Little Mix mega-mix that has even the most casual of onlookers drawn magnetically towards the front of the tent.

If there’s one thing left wanting at Rock Werchter, it’s more of a late-night provision - while The Towers’ open-air DJ space thrums with life, its programming finishes just after 11pm. The weekend’s main dose of dancefloor chaos, then, is delivered - with stunning conviction - by The Prodigy. Their reputation is a mighty one, and this turn only serves to cement it; from the opening siren squalls of ‘Omen’ onwards, the packed-out crowd splits into pockets of laser-lit circle pits that don’t let up until the set’s very end. Even after the premature passing of former frontman Keith Flint, they’re every bit as vital as ever. 

As festival bands go, you can’t get much better than Franz Ferdinand; clearly, the good people of Wercher agree. Armed with their near-bulletproof collection of floor-filling indie bangers, the Scottish rabble-rousers have The Barn’s tent bursting at the seams, but the latecomers spilling out into Friday’s beating sun are entirely unworried by their vantage point; even from 50 feet back, these revellers still act as if they’re front and centre throughout, and the eventual explosion that greets perennial anthem ‘Take Me Out’ is a strong contender for one of the weekend’s biggest moments.

So, too, is Kae Tempest’s moving set over on the Klub C stage - another tent set up such that festival-goers can opt to view all the action from bleachers flanking either side of the crowd space (granting both great views and a welcome chance to sit down in the shade). Given he’s joined onstage by only one other person - a brilliant multi-instrumentalist flitting between backing vocals, keys, and a drum pad - the weight and command of Kae’s performance is remarkable, his arresting spoken-word delivery underscored by a backdrop of choice lyrics meditating on identity, belonging, and acceptance; “If you saw the younger you, what would you say to them?”, asks ‘Know Yourself’. Contemplative yet celebratory, it’s an understated victory lap for one of our finest contemporary poets.

One of Rock Werchter’s strengths may well be its bill-topping names, but as a festival it’s also emphatically focused on new talent, too. Peppering the 2026 lineup are a number of familiar names - Westside Cowboy, Man/Woman/Chainsaw, Keo - but it’s Irish upstarts Bleech 9:3 who steal the show on Saturday over at The Nest. Their recently released, self-titled debut EP is even more urgent when rendered live, and the crowd quickly respond in kind, hoisting up scores of eager fans to crowdsurf their way to the barrier as the band - seemingly used to such scenes - continue their blistering turn without batting an eyelid. 

Ultimately, though, it’s the weekend’s latter half which stands out most. That Gorillaz aren’t even headlining Saturday night (Twenty One Pilots, however, are) may seem bizarre to some, but their earlier evening slot on the Main Stage does, at least, mean that Damon and his 15-odd-strong band of musicians, backing vocalists, and guests (including Kara Jackson, Yukimi, and Yasiin Bey) are cast in gorgeous hues as golden hour’s glow illuminates the Festivalpark. Carefully alternating crowd-pleasing cuts from ‘Demon Days’ and ‘Plastic Beach’ with the Indian-inspired offerings of latest album ‘The Mountain’, they winningly tread the line between fan service and forward-facing experimentation. As a frontman, Damon is utterly unpretentious (“I recently shaved my beard off,” he tells us conversationally, looking like an overgrown teenager in camo print and an ill-fitting red beanie). As a musician, he’s effortless, flitting between acoustic guitar, keys, melodica, and radio mic. He is, of course, merely the live conduit for 2-D, Murdoc, Noodle and Russel Hobbs, whose escapades play out on the screens behind; and, judging by this reception, Werchter are entirely happy to follow the cartoon quartet wherever their exploits take them next.

Closing out proceedings, then, are The Cure - the inimitable new wave goth rockers returning to Werchter almost exactly 45 years on from their original appearance at the festival. Back then, they had their gear thrown off stage by Robert Palmer due to scheduling delays, leading to Robert Smith’s infamous proclamation of “Fuck Robert Palmer, Fuck Rock’n’Roll” - an episode which has since become part of The Cure lore. It’s an in-joke among diehard fans, but tonight is shared by thousands, as Smith wryly concludes ‘A Forest’ with the words: "We love Robert Palmer, we love rock'n'roll" (much to the delight of the sign-wielding front rows). Because, for all their gothic imagery and dark, brooding deep cuts, The Cure are also playful, and silly, and still staunchly marching to the beat of their own drum. For every ‘Fascination Street’, there’s a ‘Friday I’m In Love’; they can do claustrophobic and creepy, and joyous, heady euphoria, and this headline turn is a masterclass in the best of their both sides.

Curiously omitting any tracks from their latest album - 2024’s ‘Songs Of A Lost World’ - the setlist is otherwise a carefully-judged combination of lesser-aired numbers (‘Treasure’; ‘Never Enough’) and immediately distinctive stalwarts like ‘Pictures Of You’ and ‘Lullaby’, the encore-leading latter of which is imbued with gloriously Stone Roses-style psychedelia when rendered live. Elsewhere, Smith swaps electric for a white star-emblazoned acoustic (‘In Between Days’) and a double flute (‘Burn’), but his voice - even after 50 years - remains uncannily unchanged. He’s at once commanding and somehow childlike, occasionally pausing, as if remembering his supposed spookiness, to stick his tongue out ghoulishly or semi-ironically wave his arms like a spider. And it’s this sense of play - besides their as-good-as-perfect collection of alternative love songs - that makes The Cure so enduringly easy to adore. On this evidence, they shouldn’t leave it so long before next coming back to Rock Werchter. 

Tags: Franz Ferdinand, Gorillaz, Kae Tempest, The Cure, Rock Werchter, Festivals, Reviews, Live Reviews