Does niche even exist anymore? In a world where any song you could wish for is available at your fingertips and music discovery is more infinite than ever, the once closed walls of a coterie like subculture have come crashing down. Surely by now, everyone likes a bit of everything.
That’s the argument that people refuse to acknowledge each year when festival line ups come out. Like clockwork, or share their headliners to a pink faced chorus of people raging ‘this used to be a rock festival’. They seem to operate under the belief that doing a bit of everything makes the event weaker, as if a wider net equals a lack of focus which equals a blunter, duller result. But really, in this limitless music world where genre is basically dead, why not do it all?
Oslo’s takes it a step further, asking of itself why not do it all – and do it all really, really well.
If there is one succinct way to sum up , ‘doing it all’ is probably the best tag line. After launching in 1999 with 1200 tickets sold, spotlighting mostly Norwegian acts, now it brings in somewhere between 60,000 and 80,000 crowd members across a four-day run. Over the years though, it has not just scaled up in size. It has levelled up and up and up again when it comes to booking, now bringing in some of the world’s biggest names and acts from across every single genre imaginable. Yet surely its biggest and proudest success is that along with those obvious measures, the festival’s consideration has grown in tandem, maintaining its status as one of the world’s most environmental festival and consistently contemplating nuanced and often neglected impacts that other events don’t even consider. This is not just your classic reusable cup festival. By now, leaves no stone unturned, from hosting only meat free food vendors who also agree to rigorous environmental rules to hand sorting all waste for perfect recycling.
For 2026, the focus was on mental health, especially in the backstage area. As hit the stage for a set that managed to get even the characteristically still and stoic nords all two-stepping, the singer repeatedly mentions her new haircut she got backstage. It’s a simple thing, a trivial thing really, but it’s also simple to see that CMAT was happy that day, feeling good and confident and relaxed. During a rigorous season that takes a toll on artists, leading to some festival sets where you can see a glimmer of ‘I don’t want to be here’ in a singer’s eyes, Oya’s providing proper chill out zones, proper catering, a bit of pampering and even on-site councillors and psychologists is gold standard artist care.
It leads to gold standard performances, aided again by the festivals determination to do it all to the best of their ability. Another rarity that happens at but very few other events is that artists actually get a soundcheck and real care has gone into audio quality. Nowhere is that more obvious that on the Sirkus stage, home to so many of the week’s top moments. delicate layering is treated with the care it deserves and demanded, delivering a performance that is sonically lawless but also visually stunning thanks to the stage’s videographers. The same compliment is applied to set as his rich vocals are punchy and powerful in his roaring moments, and crisp and delicious in his smooth ones. When Underworld close out the event on Saturday night, it was obvious that the stage’s sound-system could rival the best raves in the world.
Like a haircut, good sound is a simple thing that leads to great sets. It’s a sign of really, true respect for the artistry, and the artists, and across the festival, it’s shining out from the stage. On night one, are happy enough to perform a mammoth two and a half hour long let, finishing with an encore of an extra ten songs as the festival certainly aren’t rushing them off that stage.
It’s reflected in headline set too as the Nordic sensibility perfectly pairs with the band. During ‘Joy’, the politeness leads to a moving pin-drop silence, honouring his tender material, but when ‘Mercy Seat’ kicks in, the audience erupts. During debut Norway appearance, even is wearing an ear to ear smiling, watching as an almost field-sized mosh pit opens up, but then finishes with punks caringly holding up lost shoes and phones, all returned to their owners with a hug or a high five. It’s seen in victorious closing night headline slot as the hometown hero and truly Norway’s answer to Dua Lipa.
There are a million more moments, from charming their audience with their humour, to stunning a field to jaw-dropped awe and then some of the loudest applause of the event. At Oya, you get that one moment and then right after, you get Amyl and the Sniffers, with the same viking-esque bearded men standing attentive and intrigued in the first, and headbanging to the next. The festival does it all and does it all well, understanding that crowds do it all too. Don’t we all want a little bit of everything, and all that everything to be served up good?
It’s a festival to take note of, and that’s less so a comment for fans and crowds. They’ll take note regardless as the line-up speaks for itself, sure to only keep on growing as the event’s success does and so too does their reputation, spoken of glowingly by the acts who play there. But it’s a festival that other events should be taking note of, and learning from, taking lessons not just from their essential environmental devotion, but their attention to little details that go into a major victory.