Who got top billing? They put that legendary artist below who!? What’s that name in the smallest font? And how exactly did Weezer negotiate the placement of their flying-W logo on the poster? There are always lots of questions when Coachella reveals its lineup. This year, the headlining trio of Dua Lipa, SZA, and Tame Impala — three of the most logical choices for a big festival set in the 2020s — might come as a little less of a surprise. But the rest of the lineup is full of exciting names, and a few notable omissions. Here are five of our big takeaways.
Madonna’s Dance-Tent Slot is an Amazing Nod to Coachella History
Back in 2006, not long after the release of her classic album Confessions on a Dance Floor, Madonna gave a performance that pointed towards Coachella’s future. At the time, the festival leaned hard towards rock, indie, and what some people still called alternative — that year’s headliners included Depeche Mode, Franz Ferdinand, and the Yeah Yeah Yeahs. So the news that Madonna would appear in the Sahara dance tent wasn’t greeted with universal excitement. A few fans wore “Madonna Killed Coachella” T-shirts, and Sleater-Kinney’s Carrie Brownstein even dissed Madonna from the stage. But the six-song set was a total triumph, and Coachella would eventually become dominated by pop — perhaps to a fault. In any case, Madonna’s return to the dance tent, perhaps with a longer performance this time, couldn’t be a more appropriate celebration of her fantastic, equally dance-floor-oriented Confessions II album. —Brian Hiatt
But Hold On. Where’s Drake?
When the lineup dropped overnight, many people wondered the same thing: Where the hell is Drake? It was a reaction shared by Drizzy himself, who commented on the festival’s Instagram post with a crying emoji. The rapper was heavily rumored to be headlining this year, which would have marked his first time performing at Coachella in over a decade (he played a full set in 2015, then made a surprise appearance during Future’s set two years later, for their collab “Jumpman”). More importantly, it would have been Drake’s first full set in the United States in two years, and a chance for us to hear material from his recent Iceman trilogy — as well as his recent take on a massive hit about Texas. Maybe he’ll hit the desert next year. In the meantime, we’ll be mourning in our brown fringe shawls. —Angie Martoccio
And No Veteran Rock Acts? Really?
It’s been a long time since Coachella booked a mainstage headliner like Roger Waters, Paul McCartney, or Guns N’ Roses to appeal to music fans who came of age prior to the year 2000. This makes a lot of sense, since that’s a demographic that does not include the vast majority of Coachella attendees. But in recent years, they’ve thrown a bone or two to the older set by booking cool acts like Devo, Kraftwerk, Iggy Pop, and the Go-Gos for older fans (or younger ones who respect their elders). Madonna arguably fills that role in the dance tent this year, and Weezer can bring in some Gen Xers, along with many, many young fans of their music. But there’s no real equivalent of Iggy or Devo further down the lineup. It’ll make it a rough weekend for the Coachella moms and dads, especially if they turn in before Madonna takes the stage in the dance tent. —Andy Greene
Daddy Yankee Will Make His Coachella Debut
It’s been a long road to Coachella for Daddy Yankee. Back in 2021, the Latin icon revealed he’d been invited to the festival, but ultimately turned it down because, he said, “the pay was ridiculous.” Now, it seems Coachella has finally recognized Daddy Yankee’s worth. The reggaeton star will play the “In the Desert” portion of the festival, a top slot that typically features special production. While fans shouldn’t necessarily bank on hearing “Rompe” and “Gasolina,” given Daddy Yankee’s career pivot, his performance will mark a full-circle moment after his successors Bad Bunny and Karol G made history with their Coachella performances in recent years. —Maya Georgi
Give It Up For Independent Artists
If nothing else, indie fans can look forward to a strong crop of smaller acts getting their chance to shine. NOLA’s Twisted Teens will get to showcase the three records they dropped this year alone, while Underscores will get the crowd going wild for her maximalist pop sound. If the Coachella bookers choose chaos (and we certainly hope they do), they should have Québécois weirdos Angine de Poitrine play directly before a bigger act like Zara Larsson: Confuse the masses, then convert the curious few to polka-dot worshippers.
Maybe the most eye-catching name is Steven Hall, better known as Nirosta Steel, appearing near the bottom of the bill on Friday. Hall was a close friend of Arthur Russell’s who rose to critical prominence just this year with his 40-years-in-the-making record My Skyscraper. The experimental pop record felt plucked directly out of Manhattan’s queer downtown art and music scene of the Eighties; now 69 years old, he’s found his moment in the spotlight, and who knows? He might go check out Madonna’s Confessions II set after he’s all done. “Simply fabulous,” he said of that album’s standout track “Danceteria.” —Jaeden Pinder
Elliott Smith in 2003.
Why Is Everyone So Mad at Supreme’s Elliott Smith Collaboration?
Earlier this week, Supreme announced an Elliott Smith capsule collection, including a selection of jackets and T-shirts featuring artwork from across the late musician’s career, from his self-titled 1995 album to his seminal 1997 album Either/Or to 1998’s XO and 2000’s Figure 8.
The internet seems to be in a huff over this, relying on a view of Supreme and streetwear frozen in 2008 that was, even then, embarrassingly myopic. The line of thinking goes that Supreme, the brand that was founded in New York in 1994 by designer James Jebbia and that has been a staple in skate and streetwear culture ever since, is an inauthentic purveyor of the ethos represented by Smith and his music. One might cite the brand’s roughly $500 million investment from the Carlyle Group in 2017 or its association with high fashion as disqualifying characteristics. More than anything, there seems to be a sense that taking shots at a nearly 40-year-old streetwear institution is a way to prove one’s unsullied dedication to a sense of anti-consumerism. The anger is misplaced.
In a culture awash in goofy collaborations and corporate cash grabs, Supreme might be one of the few brands still operating from an actual set of beliefs. Its Elliott Smith capsule (which was made with permission from Smith’s estate) is in a long line of collaborations that Supreme has done with musicians. Its first artist collaborator was Rammellzee, the experimental rapper and visual artist whose relationship with the brand dates to 1994, the year Supreme opened. By 2005, Raekwon was posing with a Tickle Me Elmo for the first of Supreme’s commissioned portrait T-shirts. Across its music collaborations, portrait tees, and tributes, the list includes everyone from Michael Jackson to the Velvet Underground, Nirvana, Butthole Surfers, My Bloody Valentine, Daniel Johnston, Aphex Twin, and SALEM.
There have been collections with record labels like Stax, Wackies, Rap-A-Lot, Ruff Ryders, Jah Life, and Duck Down, the last of which put Black Moon and Smif-N-Wessun’s album artwork on clothes. There are shirts and shoes with Peter Saville’s artwork for Joy Division and New Order. The Smith collaboration is so patently in the wheelhouse of what the brand has done for decades that bringing it up now as some sort of “gotcha!” feels more like a product of social media’s tilt towards rage-bait than any defense of an artist.
Elliott Smith, who died in 2003 at 34, has long been a part of skate culture. He was friends with Mike Mills, the skateboarder and filmmaker who designed graphics for Stereo and one of Supreme’s early logos. Mills worked on unused cover art for Figure 8 and later enlisted Smith to record music for his film Thumbsucker. And Smith’s music has been celebrated in the world of skateboarding for many years now. Mark Baines skated to “Happiness” in Blueprint’s Waiting for the World in 2000. Nate Broussard used “A Distorted Reality Is Now a Necessity to Be Free” in Static III in 2007. Dylan Rieder skated to “Coast to Coast” in Alien Workshop’s Mind Field in 2009, and Mark Suciu used “Junk Bond Trader” in Cross Continental in 2012.
Arguing that he would have hated the collaboration, aside from being infantilizing, completely ignores the actual culture around Elliott Smith when he was alive, instead opting for some abstract representation of a person who actually existed in the real world — a particularly Gen Z problem, to be frank.
With these collaborations, estates and relevant parties are always compensated. And that actually matters in an era where an artist can remain a staple for young people for generations, long after they’ve died, while reaping diminishing returns thanks to the paltry payouts from streamers. Meaning, short of throwing him onstage as a hologram or doling out money-grabbing box sets, a tasteful collection with a brand with a real connection to his work is actually one of the better options that exists.
People who want to be mad at Supreme want to separate themselves from some sort of mainstream idea of cool. They want to believe that they have an authenticity that Supreme doesn’t. Sorry to say, the reverse is more likely true. Just last week, Business of Fashion published a report on the brand’s cultural durability. “Supreme isn’t cool anymore” is, in fact, a very uncool thing to say in 2026. And beyond that, the people inside the company are coming from an ethos that has remained steadfast in actually supporting youth culture.
To sit on the outside now and pretend that you’re such an authentic Elliott Smith fan that you’re upset by this is simply to expose how out of touch you are.