Let’s not think about Reel Big Fish as they are now; Aaron Barrett and a rotating cast of pals covering Phil Collins and self-releasing, when they haven’t loaned their brass section to Ice Nine Kills that is. Let’s remember them in the nineties, when they popped up in the movie ‘Baseketball’, with perfect hair and hyperactive dance moves, in that brief, golden few years when ska and ska-punk ruled the charts. It was the era when I, as a teenager, dated the male equivalent of a punk Manic Pixie Dream Girl. We listened to Flogging Molly in his parents’ garden, debated which was the best Bad Religion song endlessly, and wondered if we could write Matt Freeman a letter to ask if he could teach us the bassline to ‘Maxwell Murder’. While that relationship hit the dust when I went to university (and refused to give up bacon sandwiches for him), ‘Turn The Radio Off’ will always hold that kind of idyllic, bright energy of a time when life was more straightforward and skanking at the Cartoon in Croydon at the All-Ages night was the solution to all your problems. 

Part of what makes ‘Turn The Radio Off’ so great is that if it came out now, it’d be slated. Putting a huge banger next to three minutes of noodling around, next to a song which feels weirdly personal about getting dumped, next to a mini Rock Opera (or should that be ska opera?), should be the recipe for a shiny brass disaster. But that’s the point; this is the sound of freedom, of a band throwing spaghetti at the wall and seeing what sticks. ’S.R.’ got reworked into a multi-genre medley at live shows, and ‘Sell Out’ has officially acquired Ska Icon status. The song that’s stuck around the most, however, and assumed the two-tone mantle of the song that represents Reel Big Fish, has to be ‘Beer’. It feels like the sequel to The Offspring’s ‘Self Esteem’; our jaded protagonist has given up on the girl he’s been making dessert for and has decided to find the solution to his crush at the bottom of a pint glass. From the taut, dark intro through to the self-destructive, stripped back bridge and the disturbingly upbeat ‘woo-hoo-hoo’, this is the blueprint for the sugar-coated misery which is the trademark of this era of Ska-punk. The worst part is how relatable it is. Sometimes, to paraphrase ‘How I Met Your Mother’, you just need to be a ‘Woo Girl’, and this song captures that rollercoaster of needing to party out your self-loathing for just a few minutes. ‘Sell Out’ does this too, and it does it so incredibly well. As if someone’s only two paths in life were working fast food or signing a major label deal…but that doesn’t matter. That’s how it would have felt in that moment to someone considering making a life changing career decision, and these very specific young adult experiences are what Reel Big Fish bring to life musically. 

Ska-Punk historians will probably agree that 2002’s ‘Cheer Up!’ is a far better album, spawning the very petty ‘Ban The Tube Top’ and arguably a better loser anthem in the form of ‘Where Have You Been?’, but that came when as one last magnificent Ska swan song, just as the boom was finishing. ‘Turn The Radio Off’ was still experimental, and feels like a band grappling with suddenly being flavour of the moment. Each song is an individual, and there’s no reliance on eighties covers to jazz up their set. We feel like Reel Big Fish are our sarcastic, sometimes inappropriate, but charismatic friends by the end of ‘Turn The Radio Off’… maybe friends we’ve lost touch with, or friends we should call more often, but friends all the same, who were there with us in our formative years and still have a whole lot to offer. 

KATE ALLVEY

Wednesday

If you’ve set up your camp and grabbed a bite of lunch, then head over to the Yohkai tent to catch Brighton quartet Chalk Hands. With elements of math-rock, screamo and post-hardcore, they’re a great example of the brilliant mishmash of intensity, subtlety and musicality that exemplifies the festival as a whole.

It’s likely that virtually everyone on site on Wednesday will gather to witness Svalbard’s last ever festival performance. Firm favourites in the underground metal scene for more than a decade, they announced in May last year that 2026 would be their final year as a band. Svalbard are known for bringing passion and emotion to their own brand of atmospheric post-rock tinged metal. With their hometown of Bristol just down the road, this farewell set is sure to be an emotional one.

It’s worth heading straight over to the PX3 stage for Brazilian folk prog metal outfit Papangu. Mixing guitars, bass, drums, vocals, flute, keys, synth and potentially even a rubber chicken, they’re a mesmerising fusion of psych rock, prog, jazz and metal with a distinctly South American flare. You’ll never quite know what’s coming next with this band but it’s sure to be entertaining.

Back at the Yohkai stage are Cardiacs; one of the most talked about additions to the ArcTanGent lineup this year. Joined by Mike Vennart (Oceanzise, Empire State Bastard, Biffy Clyro) after the death of founding vocalist Tim Smith, the band have a developed a cult following from fans young and old. They will likely focus mainly on material from 2025’s album ‘LSD’, but with a catalogue dating back to the eighties, their set is sure to be packed full of avant-garde punk and eccentric prog rock.

Thursday

ActTanGent is the kind of festival where it’s always worth dragging yourself out of your tent to catch the earlier bands. If you’re feeling fresh on Thursday morning, then get yourself down to the main stage where IAN are opening. Don’t let the cello fool you into a false sense of security though, the dulcet strings morph into huge riffs and crashing symbols. Get down the front and breathe it all in. If you didn’t quite make it to the Arena first thing, then head to Terminals on the Bixler Stage. The Birmingham trio will wake you up with gloriously heavy, growling basslines and melodic, soaring vocals.

For a brutal lunchtime assault on the ears, head to the PX3 Stage, where Dublin trio Bucket will no doubt be mixing electronic beats over distorted screams and turning everything up to eleven. Ronker will also be doing their best to blast the roof off the Yohkai stage straight afterwards. The Belgian noise rockers always bring ferocious energy to their live shows, their fast-paced rhythmic charge and guttural screams riling up the crowd. If far less aggressive American pop-punk is more your thing, be sure to catch Michael Cera Palin on the Bixler stage a bit later in the afternoon. The subject matter of their songs can be heavy, but their sound is at the much lighter end of the spectrum, with warm guitar tones and upbeat rhythms. As the sun sets, head over to Yohkai for Manchester jazz punk quartet Maruja. Expect to be kept on your toes with tempo changes galore, and fervent vocals that make way for saxophone sections that move from frenetic to poignant and back again in a heartbeat.

Friday

If you’re an early bird who wakes up and chooses violence, you might enjoy being screamed at by Worn Out on PX3 to get Friday started with a bang. For something far more gentle, head over to Bixler and let the dreamy shoegaze melodies of Wildernesses carry you into the day. Once you’ve had your post-rock fix from the likes of Civil Service and Barrens, you must catch the final ever appearance of Heck on the Yohkai stage. For a band with only one album, who broke up in 2017 and reappeared briefly in 2022 for a couple of shows, their fanbase is as dedicated and devoted as they come. They’ve promised that this ArcTanGent appearance really will be their last, so prepare for them to go out all guns blazing in a raucous, ridiculous farewell.

If you’ve got any energy straight afterwards, take a wander over to the main stage for another band who have returned from hiatus; Arcane Roots. Much less erratic than Heck, and fresh from two sets at sister festival 2000 Trees, expect a tight performance packed with powerful, emotive vocals and raging riffs. Later on in the evening, head back to PX3 for the doomy, grungy, punky sounds of Manchester quartet Witch Fever. Think heavy basslines, driving beats and pure fury.

Saturday

If you make it into the arena before noon on the final day, then check out the mildly unnerving but highly infectious Erotic Secrets of Pompeii on the Bixler stage. Self-described as “apocalyptic lounge music”, the local band are a melting pot of theatrics, experimental rock and a touch of the bizarre. For your wistful but simultaneously heavy post-rock needs, Din of Celestial Birds will take you on a sonic journey over on the Yohkai stage. Following yesterday’s theme of bands making a comeback, Oathbreaker return to the UK after nearly ten years and are sure to captivate the main stage crowd with their crushing blend of blackened post-metal.

If you need some light relief after the emotional onslaught that’s inevitable from an Oathbreaker set, head over to Yohkai for the ever-charismatic Jamie Lenman. There will likely be plenty of chat in between songs, which themselves may well jump between genres from alt rock to folk, with influences from heavier rock, jazz and emo. For a contrast to so much wordiness, Danish instrumentalists Town Portal return to ArcTanGent on the PX3 stage with polyrhythms and big math-rock riffs aplenty. After you’ve finished watching Cult of Luna & Julie Christmas perform ‘Mariner’ in full, you should make sure you’ve got your headphones ready for Battlesnake on the silent disco. A delightfully silly way to finish a delightfully varied few days of music. Trust us.

The result was the platinum-selling ‘Bleed American’, the album which catapulted Jimmy Eat World into the mainstream. Last time anyone checked, it sold close to two million copies and is now recognised as one of the main reasons why emo became the sound of the early noughties. But why? It has to be because of the way that Jimmy Eat World managed to distill the spirit of transience and uncertainty into every note. It’s a record that wobbles on an uneasy footing, switching between reassurance and nervousness, and speaks to any time when the outcome of a choice was absolutely not guaranteed to be good. It’s also a record that creeps into your life at just the right time; for me, it was seven years after its release in the wasteland summer between finishing my education and entering the “Real World”, during which I mooched off friends whose futures were far more secure than my own. It’s the album for trying not to bite your nails when you think about what comes next. Even the titles laden with uncertainty: when I bought a copy, it was just called ‘Jimmy Eat World’. The band were concerned that ‘Bleed American’ would be read as a threatening imperative – “bleed, American!” – after the 9/11 attacks so they quietly removed the title until the album’s reissue. 

The ‘Bleed American’ era in Jimmy Eat World history is defined by their status as a singles band, and the string of singles are as good a place to start as any. ‘The Middle’, AKA the song which strained your pinky finger on Guitar Hero World Tour is still a jam, the gentle ‘hey’ offering a mental hug to the girls stuck between a rock and a hard place. The title track evokes a whole scene in just a list of nouns. ‘Sweetness’ – my favourite song on the album, if not my favourite song of the entire Proto-Emo era – sums up that sickening sensation of realising that you just aren’t good enough for the object of your affection, and being forced to pick yourself back up and move on even though you feel like the bottom of someone’s shoe. The tightly-wound ‘A Praise Chorus’ feels like the pep talk you’d give yourself in order to get yourself out of bed in that rejection situation, whether you’re listening to ‘Crimson and Clover, over and over’ or you’re on your feet, on the floor and good to go. Each single captures an entire scene or mood in a few minutes, and that’s what makes them so magical; the sensation crammed into each song will be unique to each listener, but at the same time, universal. For a brief few minutes we’ll all be sharing our own version of the same scenario, soundtracked by Jimmy Eat World.

It’s not just me who saw this record as a friend when we needed one. Paramore and Fall Out Boy have cited ‘Bleed American’ as being influential in their sound. We’d have no ‘Misery Business’ and we wouldn’t be able to ‘Dance Dance’, at least, not in the way we could now. Jimmy Eat World would have been consigned to the list of nostalgic “should’ve been much bigger than they were” bands, and we’d never have ‘Always Be’ or ‘Coffee And Cigarettes’ with their Breakfast Club Coming Of Age magnificence. It was a friend in a cardboard sleeve to so many acts, but most importantly to the band themselves. Jimmy Eat World will be playing a massive park show in London this summer, and if we trace the roots back, that show will come from their determination to create ‘Bleed American’. Everything that we love about Jimmy Eat World in 2026 comes from this album, and a whole lot of our own personal growth too.

KATE ALLVEY

What we got instead as a sophomore album was ‘The Sufferer & The Witness’: written in three weeks, a string of singles and the birth of the definitive melodic hardcore Rise Against sound. It’s a classic of the Bush Era punk explosion, those few magical years where punks across the USA turned their distrust of an administration going to war to prevent war into furious riffs. It’s also one of those unfortunate albums which still feels so starkly relevant now and can’t be confined to history. The impotent rage at watching the world crash down around you in a constant media cycle is so present with every turn at this hour, and the longing for the clouds to break and sunlight to shine through is the sentiment that fills so many of us in 2026. “Give me the drug, keep me alive, give me whats left of my life,” screams Tim McIlrath: he could be begging for a release from any of today’s endless political mire and that’s the quality which makes ‘The Sufferer and The Witness’ so vital. 

‘The Sufferer & The Witness’ has that incredibly rare quality in an album where every track is brilliant. There’s no filler at all. You can pick any song at random and it’ll be profound, challenging and offer you something to prick at your emotions. Take ‘Roadside’: a Neil Young intro gives way to a empty breakup duet, a song for those devoid of hope. ‘Prayer Of The Refugee’ offers up characters preaching resilience in times of desperation, giving voice to marginalised people trying to find their way through a world that places barriers at their every turn, and ‘Under The Knife’ is a shard of wanting more from existence than it can currently offer. ‘Drones’ is distilled longing for the beautiful oblivion that love and connection can provide. Every facet of chest-tightening sentiment is crammed in here, with just as much punch as the day it was written. 

It’s also one of those albums which we didn’t realise was so important until the dust had settled. Having a deep re-listen halfway through festival season 2026 feels like you’re creating a checklist: this song came out of this vocalist’s mouth in another form just last week in a dusty tent, this riff exploded with pyro on a stage an ocean away from where it was written. The Menzingers’ earnest dedication to punk purity owes so much to Rise Against, and Trash Boat’s lyrical twists owe a lot to guys from Chicago. Melodic hardcore has found its champions in A Day To Remember, but early Rise Against must have been their blueprint somewhere down the line. Could we have had half the lineups we’ve been rushing to this year without ‘The Sufferer & The Witness’? Maybe, but that’s a terrifying parallel world not worth considering. 

This re-examination is my official apology to Rise Against. I dismissed them, back in 2004, as that MTV band singing about porch swings. Call it late teenage hubris, call it misguided prejudice against the noisier end of the punk spectrum. It wasn’t until my hoodie-wearing friends sat me down and forced me to listen to ‘The Sufferer & The Witness’ – my memory is of an experience akin to the brainwashing scene in ‘A Clockwork Orange’, though with slightly more beer and fewer eyeballs involved – that I realised I was wrong and this album was a work of stained punk genius. While perhaps not everyone needed as much re-education as I did, ‘The Sufferer & The Witness’ is still here to persuade you to find your battered humanity, re-orient yourself towards your punk North Star and rise up as Rise Against would want you to. 

Kate Allvey