The Strokes Close Harvest Festival Day 1 with a Retinal Assault in White Light and Noise

Harvest Festival unfolded in Adelaide and Backseat Mafia was there for day one.

Kicking things off was DJ Apollo, warming up the early crowd with a slick, pulse-driven set that built a surprisingly lively energy for an opening slot. Teenage Joans followed, bringing the kind of punchy, melodic punk that feels deeply Adelaidean — urgent, unpretentious and full of bite. The duo of Tahlia Borg and Cahli Blakers have a chemistry that makes even the heaviest riffs feel personal.

Any Young Mechanic shifted gears with intricately layered folk storytelling, their songs spilling out in elliptical narratives and textures that seemed to expand with each chorus.

Then came Vacations, the Newcastle four-piece who’ve made “woozy guitar pop” their own. Frontman Campbell Burns led a set of shimmering, softly melancholic tunes that drew a large, sun-dazed crowd.

Adelaide clearly has something in the water. Oscar The Wild, one of the city’s emerging quartets, took the stage with a sense of confidence that explained how they’ve already shared lineups with The Killers and Amy Shark. Their set felt communal, grounded and refreshingly self-assured.

Divebar Youth followed, the project of Vinnie Barbaro, whose fuzz-driven intensity turned the field into a storm of distortion and heartbeat percussion.

When Cloud Control arrived, the weather lived up to their name. The Blue Mountains band filled the park with nostalgic, expansive rock just before the heavens opened. A sudden downpour forced an evacuation — a surreal pause that left the day suspended.

When the skies finally cleared, Genesis Owusu seized the moment. Charismatic and fully in command, he turned the festival grounds into his stage, blending funk and hip-hop with precision. Owusu’s performance felt like a statement — sharp choreography as he stalked the stage in a bright yellow ensemble and bare chest. His set radiated defiance and joy, his control over the crowd total. In an era short on true showmen, Owusu felt singular — surely a super star in the making. His set didn’t just revive the festival after the storm; it redefined its energy entirely.

Then came Lime Cordiale, feeding off that energy with a bright, knowing performance that sent the younger crowd into full sing-along mode. Their cover of “I Touch Myself” was cheeky but effective.

The Jungle Giants followed with a measured, groove-rich reset — crisp, rhythmic indie pop that moved with an ease few bands can match.

By the time Vance Joy appeared, the park was bathed in sunset light. His cover of KISS’s “I Was Made for Lovin’ You” sparked mass dancing before he closed with “Riptide”, a communal moment that united the day’s shifting moods.

After Vance Joy came The Presets — the Australian electronic duo of Julian Hamilton and Kim Moyes. Like the seasoned performers they are, they wasted no time igniting the dance floor, layering pulsating beats over synth textures that pulled the crowd back into motion. Their set felt like a release, a collective exhale after the day’s weather and emotional highs, the audience moving in perfect synchrony to each drop and rhythm.

Then The War on Drugs took to the stage and shifted the festival’s tone once again. Their set was less about spectacle and more about immersion — a masterclass in musicianship that turned the open park into something introspective and transcendent. Adam Granduciel’s voice, rough-edged yet soothing, carried across the night as the band built sprawling soundscapes that shimmered and expanded. Songs like Red Eyes and I don’t wanna wait stretched into meditative epics, full of slow-building crescendos and hypnotic guitar lines. The audience stood still, swaying gently — not out of fatigue, but out of reverence. Their performance of Under the Pressure was particularly striking: a 10-minute exercise in restraint and release that left the air humming with quiet awe. The band didn’t just play songs; they created a temporary world, one that rewarded anyone willing to stand still and feel it.

And then, finally, The Strokes — the band everyone had come to see. Throughout the day, their name had been everywhere: on shirts, tote bags, scrawled on signs. Their stage setup reflected their contradictory magic — part nonchalance, part cinematic cool. The scene was deceptively simple: a lone fake palm tree and a vintage floor lamp placed near the drum riser, bathed in soft amber light. It gave the space a kind of faded motel-room intimacy, contrasting sharply with the massive lighting rig suspended above them. When the show began, that rig burst to life — harsh, angular strobes cutting through haze, flashing in geometric bursts that mirrored the precision of the band’s playing.

The minimal set dressing became part of their mystique: familiar yet aloof, like the band themselves. Julian Casablancas sauntered around the stage, half in silhouette, his voice still carrying that slacker poise and detached melancholy that made The Strokes the blueprint for early 2000s rock revivalism. Each song — from Last Nite to Reptilia — drew deafening cheers, while new material blended seamlessly into their catalogue. It was both nostalgic and current, a performance that proved The Strokes’ influence hasn’t dimmed; if anything, it’s deepened with time.

A day of weather, rhythm, and returns — Harvest Festival Day 1 was a reminder that even chaos can’t dull the charge of live music.