The Strokes have spent their year playing a lot of shows. They’ve headlined (or subheadlined) upward of 8 festivals, including Coachella, Bonnaroo, Summer Sonic, Outside Lands, Shaky Knees, and Just Like Heaven. It’s surely been a loaded 12 months for the New York band, so for their homecoming show, they designed their own mini festival: Beach House, TV on the Radio, and Fcukers all joined The Strokes at Flushing Meadows Corona Park on Friday, giving New Yorkers a legendary day of indie music.
But both on paper and in reality, all four of these bands that I just lumped in under the banner of “indie music” are wildly different from one another. Fcukers are indie by label (they are signed to Ninja Tune) and, of course, vibes; the dance duo, which we CoSigned earlier this year, specialize in sleazed-up house, Y2K-era pop, and whatever Basement Jaxx were doing in 2002. As it had been in that same exact park (but 40 feet across the field) earlier this year for their Governors Ball set, Fcukers’ mid-afternoon show was absolutely bumping — how does vocalist Shanny Wise get so much volume out through such airy, feather-light melodies? — and set the tone for a great day of music. It was also nice to get some more recent fare given the nostalgia blast that was about to take place.
TV on the Radio Brings the Energy
After Fcukers came a fellow New York band and a complete tonal shift: the great TV on the Radio. The group arrived on Friday for their first show of 2026 fresh off a substantial streaming bump; their 2006 hit “Wolf Like Me” had some prominent placement in this summer’s Spider-Man: Brand New Day, jumping by 800% in August compared to the prior month. Now, the majority of the crowd at Flushing Meadows Corona Park were already aware of the Brooklyn band’s anthemic prowess, but from what I could tell, the event also featured a rather strong turnout from people under 25. Hopefully some 17-year-olds excited to see the song from Spider-Man were converted, and based on their dreamy, build-and-burst rendition of opening song “Young Liars,” the band has the capacity for downright religious conversion.
Aside from the fact that they released one of their five albums on Interscope (2011’s Nine Types of Light), TV on the Radio are about as “indie rock” as it gets. To this day, the palette they paint from is synonymous with the indie wave that became co-opted by hundreds of bands in their wake: impressionistic lyrics, rattling post-punk guitars, smears of sound both warm and brash, and lead singer Tunde Adebimpe’s soaring, soulful vocals tethering all that beautiful chaos together. They also like to jam. Beyond “Wolf Like Me,” the set’s peak arrived with “Repetition,” a whirlwind number that exudes a kind of energetic agitation and seems to go on just a little bit longer than it should.
Beach House Takes the Stage
Within seconds of TV on the Radio departing the stage, the heavens opened up and rain began. At first, many of us feared the worst — outdoor shows and festivals have been getting cancelled left and right due to severe weather, including a handful of major events in the city last weekend. But instead, it seems like God was being curatorial because he knew Beach House was about to play. The rain halted just minutes before Beach House took the stage; a humid fog settled in, the sunlight faded, our shoes dug in the damp ground, and the beloved Baltimore dream pop act took us to heaven themselves.
At the risk of sounding hyperbolic and a little overdramatic, to say that Beach House’s set on Friday was magnificent would be an understatement. It was a complete sonic outlier of the evening but probably the best individual performance of music. It’s ridiculous how they manage to sound so faithful to their recordings, but at the same time, hearing Beach House’s songs played so resonantly, so loudly, and with such immediacy renders their hypnotic, celestial melodies into something almost overwhelming. Victoria Legrand’s casual stage banter is in total contrast to the majesty communicated in their songs — does she know that we all levitated together as a crowd when they played “PPP” and “Superstar”?
The Strokes Close Out the Night
An hour passed as we waited for The Strokes, but my night was already made. The Strokes would be the cherry on top. Then Congresswoman Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez showed up and everyone went insane. “The greatest city in the world is now welcoming the greatest rock band of our generation,” Ocasio-Cortez said before introducing Senator Bernie Sanders. The roar was twice as loud for Bernie. “Well, I’m gonna sing a few songs,” Sanders joked before praising The Strokes’ commitment to “standing up for economic justice, fighting racism, understanding that healthcare is a human right, and understanding that we have all got to get out to vote, to stand up to authoritarianism.”
As for the music? The Strokes were tight, taut, and electric. Julian was really bringing it last night; you’d never be able to tell this was their 33rd show in six months. The group leaned heavily on the new tracks from Reality Awaits, performing five standouts from the album. Of all the new ones, it’s “Going to Babble On” that hits the hardest. It’s a vintage Strokes tune made more urgent and strange by Casablancas’ auto-tuned croons and the band’s sweet-but-sour chord progression, and last night, it sat firmly among other great tracks from Is This It and Room on Fire.
In conclusion, the mini festival designed by The Strokes was a resounding success, bringing together four unique bands under the umbrella of indie music. Despite their differences, Fcukers, TV on the Radio, Beach House, and The Strokes proved that “indie” isn’t a single sound at all, but a shared frequency. The night was filled with great music, political subtext, and even a few surprises, including the introduction by Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez and Bernie Sanders. It was truly a night to remember, and a testament to the power of music to bring people together and inspire positive change.
Pixel P. Snarkbyte, widely regarded as the “Shakespeare of Sh*tposts,” is a video game expert with a unique knack for turning pixels into punchlines.
Born in the small town of Respawn, Pennsylvania, Pixel grew up mashing buttons on an ancient NES controller, firmly believing that “blowing into the cartridge” was a sacred ritual passed down through generations.
Pixel P. Snarkbyte: proving that life, much like a buggy open-world game, is better with a little lag-induced chaos.
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