The Best Artist of the Osheaga Festival 2025 Was Doechii » PopMatters
More than Gracie Abrams, Tyler, the Creator, and Olivia Rodrigo, Doechii offered the best set of this year’s Osheaga Festival.
The moment I’d been dreading for months arrived on Friday night of Montreal’s Osheaga festival. A dozen years ago, dashing gleefully from stage to stage across the vast grounds of Parc Jean-Drapeau with youthful enthusiasm, in pursuit of seeing as many artists as I could, felt easy. Back to the present day, the desire to stay put and watch the second half of the Killers‘ headlining set was growing with every passing minute.
From a personal perspective, it was a rewarding moment: I reviewed Hot Fuss for PopMatters in the weeks before its release in summer 2004, and as it steadily became one of the biggest-selling rock records of the 21st century, I never actually had the opportunity to see these guys play live. Just like my former PopMatters colleague Jon Garrett told me after seeing them play a club in Vegas in early 2004, Brandon Flowers and company put on one hell of an energetic show.
Bursting out of the gate with the beloved “Mr. Brightside”, the band tossed out three more brilliant Hot Fuss numbers in the first half hour: “Jenny Was a Friend of Mine”, “Smile Like You Mean It”, and the blazing “Somebody Told Me”. Flowers, a dapper, beaming, tanned frontman who was clearly born to perform in front of 40,000 people or host The Newlywed Game, was magnetic as he belted out the lyrics, the kind of dude who you could watch perform all night.
However, Doechii, a half-mile hike away, was beckoning. I’d be a fool to miss her set. After all, the Florida auteur has been ascendant for the past year, thanks to her brilliant mixtape Alligator Bites Never Heal, her phenomenal recent singles (from “Nissan Altima” to 2025’s ubiquitous “Anxiety”), videos, TV performances, a legendary Tiny Desk Concert, and plenty of good, old-fashioned word of mouth.
Attempting one more round trip to the Forest Stage at 10pm was asking a lot of my aging joints, but I decided to make a break for it. If only for this piece, and to say, “I was there.” Because, more than Gracie Abrams, Tyler, the Creator, and Olivia Rodrigo, this was the set of the festival. Everyone knew it. Thanks to my media pass, I could bypass the massive main stage crowd by looping around the backstage area and then make a beeline for the Forest Stage, and as I briskly strode on the paths, hyper-aware that any random divot or tree root would send me flying, another pair of music journalists caught up to me. We exchanged exhausted laughs, “the things we do for a story, haha”, and redoubled our efforts.
Ten minutes later, I was squeezed in, my back to a VIP terrace, watching a crowd in excess of 10,000 bounce and sing along to “Nosebleeds”, “Spookie Coochie”, “Bitch I’m Nice”, and the phenomenal “Nissan Altima”, during which Doechii spit out her rapid-fire lyrics with an assassin’s precision. The energy from the crowd started to transcend from joyous to something altogether more cathartic, a collective desire to enjoy this one moment while the grim reality of the real world literally (and figuratively) burned around them.
When Doechii introduced “Alter Ego”, the mood shift was complete, and the result was mayhem. Mayhem, as in echoing the glam ferocity of the rousing lip sync to “Alter Ego” on this past season of Drag Race. Dancing, screaming, a manifestation of pent-up energy that had been waiting weeks, months, to burst. If I could have, I would’ve been busting moves as garish as Lexi Love and Crystal Envy, but alas, I could only bob my head, using the last of my waning energy.
Moments like this, where you override your instincts to catch a glimpse of a performance you know you’ll regret missing, are rewarding. Equally so is stumbling upon talented artists outside the main stage hype machine. While younger fans of Gracie Abrams, Tyler the Creator, and Olivia Rodrigo secured spots at the big stages, willing to sit through hour upon boring hour of mediocre music by male algorithm rockers (Alex Warren, Mark Ambor, Royel Otis, Dominic Fike, Tommy Richman, the chronically middling Cage the Elephant) the real fun was to be had at the other four stages, where an eclectic array of talent threatened to steal the show.
Over Osheaga’s three days, the smaller Forest and Valley stages were the place for the more curious music fans to hang out, especially in the afternoons. Vancouver punk outfit Ekkstacy wore their influences on their grungy sleeves (Misfits, Smashing Pumpkins, a hint of Christian Death) and churned out one of the rare good rock performances of the weekend. The hugely underrated Durand Bernarr brought his smooth modern soul to a steamy Saturday afternoon and wowed the audience with his vocal skills.
Millennials were drawn like flies to honey when Future Islands played a rousing set, which was then followed by a scorching, transcendent performance by the recently reunited (and much-missed) TV on the Radio. A dude as big as the state he’s from, Texas rapper BixXthaPlug had a giddily rowdy crowd hanging on his every word, at one point forming three separate mosh pits during one song.
As Sunday afternoon started to wind down, a big crowd showed up at the Valley Stage to party, electroclash style, with the Dare. Clad in his usual black suit, white shirt, and skinny black tie, the indie sleaze producer had his circa-2002-via-1981 dance beats compelling everyone to dance, led by his signature tracks “Girls”, “Sex”, and “You’re Invited”, capping it all off with a stupendous cover of The Sound’s 1980 classic “I Can’t Escape Myself” as the sun began to mercifully dip.
With Doechii leading the way, the Valley/Forest stages were absurdly top-heavy with astoundingly talented black women. UK R&B innovator Jorja Smith turned in a spellbinding Friday evening performance highlighted by “Blue Lights”, “Where Did I Go?”, and her breakthrough garage/R&B hybrid “Little Things”. Up-and-coming Toronto chanteuse Aqiyla was utterly charming as she sang her Juno Award-winning track “Hello” at her highest-profile performance to date.
Meanwhile, past Polaris Music Prize winner Debby Friday wowed the early arrivers on Sunday afternoon. Days away from the release of Black Star, budding Ghanaian American superstar Amaarae commanded the stage as the sun set on Sunday night, unleashing several cuts from the hotly anticipated new record, including “Stuck Up”, “B2B”, and “Fineshyt”.
The biggest surprise, however, was Dutch singer-songwriter (and OVO signing) Naomi Sharon, whose sultry, Sade-meets-Roberta Flack vibe was perfect for a blazing Saturday afternoon, as she performed selections from her recent EP The Only Love We Know, highlighted by “Bittersweet” and “Feels Like Home”.
Meanwhile, at the intimate “Backyard Sessions” stage, located about halfway between the main stages and the Forest/Valley stages, several underground, homegrown talents were afforded an opportunity to win over new fans. Of the nine acts to perform over the three days, Montreal experimental rockers Bibi Club turned in a mesmerizing set that started innocently enough in front of a couple of dozen people.
However, once the duo of guitarist Nicolas Basque and singer/keyboardist Adèle Trottier-Rivard started leaning into their deafening krautrock grooves, more and more curious onlookers joined the fun. Featuring selections from their recent, Polaris shortlisted album Feu de garde, the duo’s searing sound – a mix of Stereolab‘s 1990s retro-futurism and the explosive garage rock sounds dominating Montreal’s underground scene right now – ended with a raucous ovation from the now jam-packed space.
While most of the supporting acts on the main stage dismally and accurately reflected the algorithm-driven tastes of mainstream white cis-het youth – it’s going to take a while for the nauseating memory of Dominik Fike’s cloying cover of Coldplay‘s “Yellow” to escape this writer’s mind – there were a few moments of magic amidst the detritus. Lucy Dacus was absolutely charming as she and her outstanding backing band played a languid little set as Friday afternoon started to cool.
Always a treat live, Marina was in full diva mode as she flaunted her delightful turn towards girly pop on this year’s fun album Princess of Power, highlighted by a throbbing performance of the instant camp classic “Cuntissimo”. Viral singer-songwriter Gigi Perez brought some fun energy on Sunday afternoon and won over the young crowd.
Finneas stepped out of his younger sister’s shadow by indulging his inner soft-rock nerd during a shockingly strong set in the sunshine, smartly capturing the nuance that 1970s Barry Manilow and Wings-era McCartney possessed in spades. In a delightful full-circle moment, Toronto faves the Beaches, who debuted at Osheaga many years ago, played a spirited, inspiring main stage set that leaned heavily on their upcoming new album, and of course, which also featured the much-loved 2023 tune “Blame Brett”.
Of course, I’d be remiss not to mention Gracie Abrams, who attracted a crowd every bit as big and fanatical as the one that welcomed Chappell Roan a year ago. While Chappell’s vibe in 2024 was all about inclusion, queer pride, and dancing, Abrams’ straight female fans – most clad in requisite long white cotton skirts, as the current fashion dictates – hung on every syllable of Abrams’s cathartic, diaristic ballads.
Granted, the polished Ms. Abrams is nothing short of charming, mastering the nerdy rich-girl persona that her mentor Taylor Swift perfected 15 years ago, and there were moments where that undeniable appeal was palpable (her impassioned performance of “I Love You, I’m Sorry” in front of 50,000 people was a genuinely heart-stopping moment) she still needs an iconic track on the level of “Love Story” and “Mine” to transcend the yearning teenage girl market fully.
She’s pretty close, though, and if there was any indication of her staggering popularity, it was the online furor that happened the moment a lightning storm cut her set by 20 minutes. Social media was ablaze with denunciations of everything from festival organizers to deities to headliner Tyler, the Creator to meteorological science, from kids who wanted to hear “Close to You” after waiting seven hours.
As for Tyler, the Creator, he wasn’t going to allow himself to be upstaged by the ascendant Abrams. Opening with the first two cuts from his outstanding new LP Don’t Tap the Glass, the message was clear from the start that the focus on this night was to dance and have fun, as the intro to “Big Poe” laid out to the massive crowd: “Welcome. Number one, body movement. No sitting still. Number two, only speak in glory. Leave your baggage at home. None of that deep shit.”
When “Sugar on My Tongue” kicked in, the grounds became a gigantic rave as Tyler’s undeniably commanding presence challenged the kids to keep up with his own manic dancing. Chromakopia tracks like “Sticky” and “Rah Tah Tah” got gigantic pops from the crowd, and the festive vibe continued for the next hour, all the way to the climactic performance of “New Magic Wand”. All the while, Tyler was gracious, in good humour (snarkily stating “eat the rich” while making fun of the VIP terraces), and surprisingly apologetic after the lightning storm delayed his appearance by half an hour.
While the Killers thrilled the older crowd on Friday and Tyler, the Creator was a magnetic headliner on Saturday, Sunday headliner Olivia Rodrigo came the closest to matching the energy of Doechii’s epochal performance two nights earlier. The final night of her 102-date Guts world tour, Rodrigo and her band were finely honed and on point, proving beyond a shadow of a doubt that this tiny person in a sparkly dress and a bright red guitar can captivate a festival crowd.
Rodrigo’s musical niche is a perfect fit for summer festivals, a messy blend of sing-along pop anthems (“Get Him Back”) the boisterous sounds of mid-1990s alternative rock (“All-American Bitch”, “Good 4 U”), and theatrical ballads capable of otherworldly climaxes (“Traitor” was phenomenal) and everyone, from five year-old children to wizened Gen-Xers like yours truly, were under the former Disney star’s spell. Rodrigo is stylistically versatile (“Pretty Isn’t Pretty” was a magical, understated moment), outrageously charismatic (her smile can light up an audience of 40,000), and most impressively, showed no signs of fatigue at the tail end of an 18-month global tour.
At one point, my photographer partner and I stepped away from the jubilant throng of humanity to sit and catch a breather. Not far from us, a young mother kept an eye on her little girl, who couldn’t have been older than six, wearing a sparkly tulle dress, performing fancy little pirouettes on the ground, the dry dirt floating up like fairy dust, as Olivia sang “Lacy”. The mom was wiped out after a long day, but she was smiling proudly at her daughter, who was in the middle of what was sure to be a long-lasting core memory.
As my partner and I smiled back, I briefly considered dashing back to the Forest Stage to catch the great Jamie XX in action. This time, common sense got the best of me. Nothing was going to top this quiet little moment, and our legs were officially shot. So we headed up the hill, watched the final half hour of Olivia’s set from the back, with the moonlit Montreal skyline creating a pretty backdrop, and made our way to the metro station.
