Not even Charli XCX can save Parklife 2025 from being, once again, hell on earth

Two years ago, I had one of the worst days of my life at Parklife. Despite the fact I’m born and bred Manchester (well, Stockport, leave it out) I never really bothered with attending Parklife until I was kindly given a free ticket to the Sunday of 2023. I was well aware that I was past the target age range of the attendees of Parklife, but The 1975 were headlining so I put shame aside and attended. It was an abomination, and if you wish to know why you can read it here. That particular story I wrote ruffled many feathers, but it was honestly my true experience. I did not think anything on earth would get me to return to Parklife ever again. But that stance did not factor in the unexpected rise of my lord and saviour Charli XCX shooting to mainstream success so hard she was able to headline, and did not factor in the fact my mate would buy me a ticket. If there’s one thing that would get me to return to an apocalypse, it’s Charli – but the disaster of Parklife 2025 and its permanent status of hell on earth once again solidified that I am an idiot for assuming I’d manage to have a good time.

A place utterly barren of joy

Just bleak

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It is not Manchester’s fault that the centre of the city doesn’t have a space suitable for a big festival. Instead, we all have to hoof it to Heaton Park – which is of middling ease. Heaton Park is not a bad park by any stretch, but something happens when Parklife books its slot in the calendar that morphs the space into the newly declared eighth circle of hell. There is just something in the air that feels foreboding. The clouds never seem to part. There is a menace to the land. Nothing the artists can do can rectify this, as much as they try.

And whilst nobody involved at Parklife can blame the doom that the weather gives the day, the attendees however could indeed be reminded that they are actually attending this music festival to have fun. I have been very spoiled in my life with the amazing music festivals I’ve attended. Whether it’s smaller queer festivals like Mighty Hoopla or Glastonbury, these places feel like utter joy as soon as you step in. It’s like bad vibes and moods are vanquished over the threshold – proper havens of celebration and love. You’d honestly think from the energy of people who attend Parklife that they’re being held at ransom to turn up.

Stoney faces, fights, misery. Everywhere you look. When you see someone break against the mould and have a dance, they’re out online filmed by people infinitely more boring with captions like “this crazy groover at Parklife”. God forbid someone dances!

Parklife’s negativity is nothing to do with the artists

Charli gave it her all

Once me and my lot were up and grooving and making the best of a place that seemed determined to keep us gloomy, good times could of course be had. Girls Don’t Sync were as riotous as ever. Confidence Man are too jubilant and euphoric for such a crowd, but they continue to be the best dance band on the planet in my opinion. Peggy Gou was on the more boring end of things, but not a disaster. And my Charli? My Charli gave one of the best performances I’ve ever seen from her – and I’ve seen her six times. It was a Brat Summer victory lap for people who definitely didn’t deserve to have her giving as much as she was. But she did her best, and by the time she belted out I Love It it was euphoria.

Good luck getting home

The tram queue. You can’t even see the entrance to the tram stop.

Once the Brat curtain had fell for good, the true disaster of what Parklife can be like in 2025 hit me hard.  t is truly an impossible and overwhelming feat trying to get yourself home. Uber prices are through the roof, and that’s if you can even get one to get to your location. The exit strategy of Parklife sees streets closed and you have to walk for at least 45 minutes to have a chance of rescue. I knew there’d be a shuttle bus or a tram, with the latter being my preference. I walked to a tram stop and it was closed. The people working the fence told me “good luck getting a tram, they’re not running.” When I asked about the shuttle bus, he said “you’re on the entirely wrong end of the park.” I just stormed to the other nearest tram stop and ignored his advice.

Looked to me like the trams were running, but he was right in how I would not be getting one. The queues of people lining the street for it were hundreds deep. They’d easily fill four trams before I got a look in. It felt hopeless.

After about two hours my partner managed to book me a taxi and I got the hell out of there. But the endurance task it takes to leave Parklife means that any good will the festival gets from 2025 as Charli XCX tries her damnedest to make it feel worth the other aspects of disaster is quickly dissipated.

Lesson learned here, really. If you loved it, I’m happy for you – but for me, I wouldn’t bother. I tried to give Parklife a second chance, but nothing is worth the inevitable despair.

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