The inaugural Kilby Block Party in 2019 was exactly what is said on the tin: a block party taking place outside of the storied music venue Kilby Court. The name has stuck for tradition’s sake, but the scope of the festival has grown exponentially. In just 7 years, 500 attendees has turned into a figure closer to the tune of 90,000.

In the continued absence of Pitchfork festival in Chicago and All Things Go’s mainstream pivot, indie fans nationwide have found themselves flocking to Salt Lake City. From Friday’s blistering sun to Sunday’s gentle downpour, Kilby’s crowd was a snapshot of Gen-Z hipster culture. Friends that may have once been easy to spot in a crowd got lost in the sea of nose rings and dyed hair.

The recent hacky sack revival was omnipresent in less crowded areas. Any doubt surrounding the legitimacy of Geese’s popularity was quelled in spades; the constant use of their catalog as interstitial music and the countless amounts of fans donning their merch made them stars of the festival without even being on the lineup. 

We’re here to report on what really went down at indie music’s newfound marquis festival, from fresh faces with bright futures to global stars whose hits echoed through the mountains.

All photos by Julian Spire unless otherwise noted

2020s rising stars

You can tell that Kilby Block Party's talent buyers are driven by taste over algorithms based on its eclectic undercard. We caught some of the most exciting newcomers and upstarts in the earlier hours of each day.

Gelli Haha opened up the Kilby stage with her vivaciously choreographed, primary colored world of dance-pop, winning over new fans one trampoline bounce at a time.

NYC shoegaze heavyweights Hotline TNT rocked the neighboring Desert stage right after, with a fan in the pit doing cartwheels by set's end.

Die Spitz took the same stage shortly after, and by their second song, the weekend’s very first crowdsurfers were officially in motion. That immediate spark from the crowd is just a reflection of the intensity the band brings themselves.

The relationship is symbiotic, however. Die Spitz feeds off the audience just as much as the audience feeds off them. As singer and guitarist Ellie Livingston told me in the green room afterward, the band encourages chaos, and only has one real rule for the mosh pit: “Don’t be a dickwipe.”

A sentiment that Livingston and I also shared was that NewDad's performance was one of the most pleasant surprises of the festival.

Opening with “Other Side,” the intro track from their latest LP, the band wasted no time establishing a hypnotic, eerie atmosphere — with a sound reminiscent of The Cure’s Disintegration — layered with moody vocals, post-punk basslines, and towering crescendos.

Frontwoman Julie Dawson is a huge reason why they’re such a force live: confident and magnetic onstage, while still giving her bandmates room to shine when the moment calls for it. NewDad’s music is deeply atmospheric, but the songs are played just a bit heavier live, elevating the band’s already immersive sound into something even more visceral in person.

On the heels of his signing to the indie king-making Matador records, This Is Lorelei busted out favorites from his breakout record Box for Buddy, Box for Star and rerecord project Holo Boy. Their live rendition of "Dancing in the Club" nestled between the album version's quick, plucky synths and the languid twang of MJ Lenderman's cover. The set's penultimate number, "I'm All Fucked Up," resonated deeply with a crowd that was collectively four drinks on that chilly Sunday afternoon.

The indie vets

Some of the best, tightest sets from the weekend came from the indie vets, and there’s a discernible difference in overall vibe, confidence, and energy compared to the Gen Z artists previously discussed. Where artists like Jane Remover and Die Spitz hit the stage with unprecedented levels of energy—and had their younger crowds jumping up and down with phones in hands for the entirety of their 40-minute sets—these artists’ fan bases were more comfortable in a low-key head-nod rather than nonstop movement throughout. 

Father John Misty, real name Josh Tillman, is by all accounts one of these grizzled veterans — and so is his band, who each look like slightly different variations of the indie crooner (there’s Father John Skinny, Father Bald Misty, etc.). But in their more seasoned years, they brought Tillman’s sardonic, existential wit to the stage with precision.

With a heavy focus on 2024’s Mahashmashana in the setlist, Tillman and company drifted seamlessly between sorrowful ballads, sorrowful folk tracks, and even more sorrowful chamber pop. They opened with the eight-minute disco-tinged “I Guess Time Just Makes Fools of Us All,” and during the final two minutes of the jam session, Tillman bluntly stated, “Get all the dancing out now, it gets pretty dark from here.”

In terms of subject matter, he wasn’t lying. But in terms of performance, the set felt radiant throughout.

There’s also Melody Prochet of Melody’s Echo Chamber, who is just an absolute delight. Her set is an ethereal blend of pop and psychedelia, where, once again, her band operates with precision and years of experience. With blown-out basslines, fuzzy, reverb-heavy guitars, and Prochet’s weightless vocals weaving in and out of the mix, it was certainly a set best taken in by the festival’s more elevated listeners.

Prochet spends the set either fiddling with her synth rig or twirling lightly around the stage, while also showering the crowd with love and gratitude. And it felt wholly genuine. I saw both her festival set and her headlining after-party later that night, and spent the combined 1 hour and 50 minutes with an unfading smile.

Lastly, there’s Blood Orange, who performed the penultimate set before Sunday's headliner, and frequent collaborator, Lorde.

Where Tillman and Prochet are still the unmistakable focal points of their sets, Dev Hynes operated his less like a frontman and more as a facilitator, consistently taking the backseat to the other vocalists and instrumentalists on stage. He drifted between cello, keyboards, and guitar, driving a set that felt loose in structure but still impressively cohesive.

Hynes’ latest record, 2025's Essex Honey, was a subdued and meditative exploration of grief, filled with slow-tempo tracks and largely devoid of the groovy guitar work that has permeated his earlier projects. And yes, while there still was a healthy share of string-heavy, mellow material, the groove was omnipresent —tracks like “Uncle ACE” and “Charcoal Baby” had the crowd moving just as much as anything else I saw all weekend. In fact, the last 20 minutes of Hynes' set was so good, it almost made me forget it was 40 degrees. -DS

Kilby says “no” to Kevin O’Leary’s data center

Kevin “Mr. Wonderful” O’Leary garnered a solid amount of public goodwill from his surprisingly solid performance in Marty Supreme and its surrounding press tour. All of that goodwill has since vanished, especially here in Utah.

Against the will of furious Box Elder county residents (whom O’Leary claimed were “paid and bused in”), the Shark Tank star’s 62.5 square mile (!) data center was fast-tracked to approval earlier this month after county commissioner Boyd Bingham threatened to have protesters removed by law enforcement, telling them, “For hell’s sake, grow up.” At full power, the data center would use twice as much energy as the entire state of Utah does currently, leaving residents skimped on vital resources like water and electricity.

While neither are local to Utah, Turnstile and Hayley Williams both incorporated protests against the data center into their sets. A fan on the barricade for Turnstile made it to the big screen with a message on his phone reading "Utah says no to the data center. We don't want it."

UTAH SAYS NO TO THE DATA CENTER!
by u/TheRafff in kilbyblockparty

Hayley Williams put together a visual during "Disappearing Man" that superimposed red text reading "NO" over unflattering pictures of O'Leary.

It's not often that a local issue makes headway at a big festival like this, but the political outcry didn't end there. Both Williams and Lucy Dacus donned "ICE OUT" pins during their sets, as did several attendees. Violations of democracy like O'Leary's data center are everyone's issue, not just those who are most affected.

Modest Mouse's mounting legacy

Isaac Brock doesn’t see Modest Mouse as a legacy act just yet. “I think we’re just in the middle of our career,” he told me backstage before his set. But when you have thirty years of music to cover in an hour-long set, the world is your oyster. Modest Mouse closed out the Lake stage on Friday night with the setting sun relieving festivalgoers of the woes it incurred throughout the day.

The Lonesome Crowded West’s “Doin’ The Cockroach” and its jittery guitars soundtracked the realization of just how bad my sunburn was. For a moment hunger got the best of me, but I bolted out of the taco line the second I heard the opening riff of “Dramamine.”

Brock’s impassioned, raspy vocal performance on stage felt like an entirely different man from who I met just an hour earlier. Instead of catching other sets throughout the day, Brock was determined to finish his current read (All The Work I Never Wanted by Rex Marshall if you were curious). 

The band's last big performance was this past February on their very own affinity cruise. "It started as a joke and then I found myself in conversations with people who do cruises because I told the joke to the wrong people," Brock said of its origins. "I was kind of embarrassed, but then I did the cruise and I have never had a nicer time. It was the most fun I've ever had, and everyone around me agreed."

While the cruise allowed for fan-favorite deep cuts and a play-through of The Moon and Antarctica in its entirety, the casual fan was kept in mind for their Kilby set. Those that came just to hear "Dashboard" and "Float On" got their wish; the latter lit up the crowd like a dog with a bone waved over its head. I can't say I blame them. – LB

Jane Remover

It’s hard to make the line “A thousand people scream my fuckin’ name” sound humble, but when Jane Remover sang it during her mid-day set on Saturday, it was a pure understatement. From start to finish, the crowd refused to stay still; watching from the stands was a visual unlike anything I’d seen before. I knew Jane could command a crowd (her set at the First Unitarian Church in Philadelphia had the ceiling dripping when all was said and done), but commanding a festival crowd is a whole new beast for the ever-ascendant 22-year-old.

For the most part, Kilby Block Party has zeroed their focus in on indie rock. So unless we're talking about their now deleted mixtape, Jane Remover's rage-infused hyperpop is the fest's sharpest diversion from that focus. "I fully expected this to be dead," they humble-bragged between songs. Jane's long-running "leroy" alter ego took hold of the mic for a solid portion of the set, performing the recently released remixes of "Experimental Skin/How To Teleport" and "Music Baby." "SING THAT SHIT!" they demanded while performing the latter. Jane's wish was the crowd's command every time, and the only thought invading my head was "God, what a star." – LB

Getting Philadelphian with Alex G and Japanese Breakfast

Two of Philadelphia's greatest musical exports, Alex G and Japanese Breakfast have found themselves way more famous than they ever could've imagined. The former became the progenitor of the twangy, slacker inclinations of our current moment in indie rock, and the latter is now best known for her best-selling memoir. In addition to their Philadelphian roots, they both delivered some of the weekend's best sets.

Do you ever go catch a sh0w and feel like the setlist was tailored just for you? That's how I felt watching Alex G close out the Lake stage on Saturday night. He opened with my three favorite songs from my favorite record of his, House of Sugar. The tinny, glitched-out vocal intro of "Gretel" became a thesis statement: "I don't wanna go back / Nobody's gonna push me off track." I was the only one in my vicinity passionately singing along to "Southern Sky" and "Hope" following it, but the TikTok-born fans got their wish by set's end with obligatory performances of "Sarah," "Harvey," and "Mary."

The bulk of the set showcased highlights from 2025's Headlights, complete with an accordion solo at the end of the stunning "June Guitar."

Alex's stage banter has calmed since the days he'd drunkenly galavant on stage, but his candidness is delivered in a way that proves he still doesn't care what the audience thinks. The crowd erupted into three cheers, to which he dejectedly responded "hip hip hooray... that's a really good one." He told us about his alien abduction dream before playing his hits and walking off to (the superior Tom Cochrane version of) "Life is a Highway." Sometimes, dudes rock.

Japanese Breakfast took to the stage on Friday night for the first time since she wrapped her Melancholy tour last year, and Michelle Zauner's joy was contagious. Dipping into the nooks and crannies of her discography like "Black Light" from her COVID-lockdown side project BUMPER and "The Woman That Loves You" from Psychopomp, her set was a welcome calm before Turnstile's storm.

There is a self-awareness that comes with only playing three songs from your latest record, and it considerably aided the pacing of the set. The songs off of For Melancholy Brunettes (& sad women) that were performed were all highlights. The swung serendipity of "Mega Circuit" and the controlled paranoia of "Picture Window" blended perfectly into fan-favorites from Jubilee and Soft Sounds From Another Planet.

Zauner's band was as tight as ever, but whoever forgot to mic her gong needs to be fired ASAP.

The coronations of American Football and Hayley Williams 

Despite their respective careers pulling them in very different directions, Hayley Williams and American Football always find their way back to each other.

Williams has spent nearly all of her career in the mainstream major-label spotlight. Paramore has several charting hits under their belt. But her reverence for all things scene and DIY has made her the universally beloved figure she is today, even without Paramore behind her. She's inspired countless female fronted rock bands over the years, and showed up to Kilby's rainy Sunday as a unique ray of light (the rain quite literally stopped for the duration for her set and resumed not long afterwards).

This performance came at a pivotal point in Williams' solo career: her last show of the Hayley Williams at a Bachelorette Party tour and her first festival as just herself. "This is my first festival as me," she bashfully told the audience. "And if you don't know who 'me' is... I'm Hayley Williams, motherfucker."

Despite only playing material from the year-old Ego Death at a Bachelorette Party, she performed the songs like they were muscle memory, and fans sang along like they've been dear to their heart for years.

Williams popped out earlier to sing "Uncomfortably Numb" with American Football from LP3. In contrast to Williams – who got her indie cred from the top down – frontman Mike Kinsella became emo's godfather from the bottom up.

Since "Uncomfortably Numb" was made back in 2018, the band had gone on a second hiatus and Kinsella focused on his solo project. As a result, American Football returned as ambitious as ever with long, dense songs and a stage setup complete with a vibraphone.

Unsurprisingly, "Never Meant" had the crowd riled up even more than Williams' appearance despite the rain and chilly weather beginning to set in. You can't deny its power.

The Headliners

Turnstile

There’s an age-old question I set out to answer on my long trek from Buffalo, New York, to Salt Lake City. It’s a question that has echoed through generations, from Reddit threads to YouTube comment sections, and debated with the intensity of ancient philosophy: “Is Turnstile hardcore?”

Though their roots are firmly planted in the Baltimore hardcore scene, with earlier recordings that sounded heavily indebted to Rage Against the Machine and Bad Brains, the band has slowly incorporated more melodies and atmospheric synths into their sound, pushing further and further from traditional hardcore conventions.

But then came the true breaking point: Their song “Holiday” was used in a Taco Bell commercial.

For many hardcore purists, this was the final nail in the coffin. Suddenly, it became difficult for longtime fans to even hear the name “Turnstile” without thinking of a Chalupa Supreme.

I was no different, and I desperately wanted to rid myself of this terrible affliction. Thus, I entered the pit for Turnstile at Kilby Block Party.

From the opening guitar line of “Never Enough,” the crowd erupted into a mosh pit, and it took less than two minutes for the first crowd surfer of the evening to appear overhead. The energy was relentless, from both the band themselves and the audience, with singer Brendan Yates sounding as strong as ever while leaping from various platforms throughout the set.

During “Don’t Play,” I caught an elbow directly to the face and immediately started bleeding from my gums. In that moment, it felt like a hardcore show, but just as quickly, my thoughts were overtaken by a tidal wave of Baja Blast. I frantically tried to shake it off… but the neon ocean lingered.

The chaos continued nonetheless, and by the time the band closed with “Birds,” I had been shoved into the pit, knocked to the ground, pulled back up, and thrown down again, suffering two broken toes somewhere in the process. And as I was lifted into the air for a crowd surf during the song’s final guitar notes, I found myself asking the question one last time: Could this actually be… hardcore? 

Well, I still don’t know. But whatever genre they are (or aren’t), they put on a hell of a show. – DS

The xx

The xx reunited in early April in Mexico City to play their first shows together in over eight years. After a pair of headlining Coachella sets, the London rock group brought their reunion tour to Salt Lake City as the Saturday headliner.

They haven’t seemed to miss a beat in their time away, as the chemistry was still very much intact. The back-and-forth vocals between Oliver Sim and Romy sounded as wistful as they did in 2009, with Jamie xx consistently — and quietly — serving as the heartbeat of the group, twisting in samples, drums, beat pads, and synths into the mix, impeccably curating their signature minimal, moody sound.

But, Jamie xx didn’t stop there! Halfway through the set, he gradually transitioned the band’s downtempo material into his own four-on-the-floor house sound, weaving in electronic tracks like “Treat Each Other Right,” “Loud Places,” and his remix of The xx’s “On Hold,” all without ever acknowledging the audience beyond a quiet “hello.”

Somewhat ironically, the band closed out their set with “Intro,” the opening track from their debut album. It was difficult not to feel a little emotional watching the trio in that moment — more than 17 years into their career, receiving an outpouring of love they weren’t sure would still be there for them, and bringing it back to where it all began. – DS

Lorde

Four albums and 13 years into her career, Lorde had never played in Utah. The New Zealand pop star made her Salt Lake City debut long after she proved to be a defining voice of her generation. The issue for those seeing Lorde for the first time in 2026 is that she was an exceptionally well spoken teenager, but a just-okay-spoken adult.

The energy of Lorde's set was palpably euphoric when she was playing songs from her back-catalog. Those on the barricade with me seemed more excited the older the song was. Pure Heroine's "Buzzcut Season" feels even more apt today than it did 13 years ago: "I live in a hologram with you," she warbles in her lower register. Melodrama highlights like "Supercut" and "The Louvre" had the crowd dancing like the rain was the least of their issues. I can't say the same for most of the Virgin cuts that were played.

It seemed Lorde didn't adapt her set for the festival stage, but rather opted for a truncated version of her Ultrasound Tour set. As a result, her career defining hits were blink-and-you-miss-it nods. "Royals" was reduced to one verse and one chorus. All of the abstract choreography was reserved for the new songs. The entire Solar Power record was untouched.

Regardless, seeing some of the songs that got me into music as a child boom from festival speakers was nothing short of cathartic. "I promise it won't be another 13 years before I come back," Lorde promised. For the sake of the people of Utah, I hope she's telling the truth.