As Melbourne begins to button up its coats and surrender to the early winter dark, RISING arrives to remind the city that cold weather is not a reason to retreat indoors. It is an invitation to gather, wander, listen, dance, look up, look closer and let the city become a stage.
Running from 27 May to 8 June, RISING is Melbourne’s festival of new art, music and performance, bringing together a huge program across the city. It is one of those festivals that feels less like a neat calendar of events and more like a full city mood. A moonlit cultural buffet. A civic fever dream. A reason to say yes to the thing you have never heard of, in a venue you have never been to, surrounded by people you would not otherwise meet.
That is part of what makes RISING special. Yes, there are international names, major performances and big-ticket moments. This year’s program includes artists and shows spanning music, dance, theatre, performance and installation, with names like Lil’ Kim, Kae Tempest, Daniel Avery, Florentina Holzinger and Seun Kuti & Egypt 80 among the wider program. But the true magic of a festival like this is not only in the headline acts. It is in the way it rearranges the city’s ordinary rhythms.
Suddenly, foyers become meeting points. Laneways become portals. The person next to you in the queue might be a student, a retiree, an artist, an accountant, a dancer, a parent on a rare night out, or someone who has simply followed the glow. Festivals are one of the few remaining places where people from different corners of society mix without needing to explain themselves. You do not need the same job, suburb, income bracket, politics or playlist. You just need to be there.
In that sense, RISING is not just entertainment. It is social architecture. Doing things like this is hard. Big festivals take time, money, trust, logistics, risk and a thousand invisible spreadsheets quietly screaming in the background. But they matter. They create shared civic memory. They remind us that modern Australian society is not one smooth, beige thing, but a wild collage of cultures, ages, tastes, histories and appetites. At their best, festivals hold up a mirror and say: look, this is us, in all our odd and gorgeous plurality.
One of RISING’s great strengths is its accessibility. Alongside the ticketed program, there is a significant free program, making it possible to dip into the festival without needing to mortgage your snack budget. Free events are often where the festival spirit is at its most democratic: families drifting through, curious passers-by accidentally discovering something brilliant, friends making last-minute plans because the barrier to entry is delightfully low.
For those planning a full RISING adventure, the program is generous enough to build your own rhythm. Start with a major opening moment like Reverb Opening at ACMI, a fitting place to begin inside one of Melbourne’s great cultural homes. Then venture into the stranger territories: Nowhere at Merlyn Theatre, Malthouse; The Forest at Union Theatre, UMAC; or the irresistible pulse of Seun Kuti & Egypt 80 at Hamer Hall. Seun Kuti & Egypt 80 bring Afrobeat energy to Hamer Hall, carrying forward the sound and spirit of Fela Kuti’s legendary ensemble.
Then there is Day Tripper, RISING’s festival-within-a-festival, taking over Max Watt’s and Melbourne Town Hall for a multi-room day of music, performance and release. It sounds like the kind of event where you go in as one version of yourself and emerge several hours later with a new favourite artist, sore calves and a slightly improved personality.
The trick with RISING is not to over-plan it into submission. Pick a few anchors, leave room for surprise, and let the city do some of the talking. See something ambitious. See something free. See something you cannot neatly describe afterwards.
Because that is what festivals are for. Not just consumption, but participation. Not just culture as a product, but culture as a shared weather system. For twelve winter nights, RISING asks Melbourne to come outside, rub shoulders, follow the sound, and remember that the city is at its best when it belongs to everyone.
