All Things Go Toronto – The Blueprint for Music Festivals

A staple of the American festival circuit, the All Things Go company opened its doors to the Toronto faithful on a breezy Saturday morning, unveiling itself as a microcosm of what the future of live music could look like. Their brand revolves around creating an intimate, inclusive, and grounded space that exudes warm authenticity, marking the expansion of a movement that’s been quietly reshaping festival culture for over a decade. Specifically, one where women and LGBTQ artists take center stage. 

The First Welcome

As the first waves of eager festivalgoers streamed through the doors, brimming sunlight and excitement rolled across the waterfront. Fans in thrifted finds, vintage sneakers, and handmade jewelry were spreading out on the grass, clutching Aperol spritzes and local eats from food trucks. The ebullient scene was framed by the iconic Budweiser Stage sign gleaming against the majestic Lake Ontario. Everywhere you looked, there were places to rest, recharge, and just simply be, which is a far cry from the packed chaos of commercialized mega-festivals.

That calm harked back and echoed the spirit of the original All Things Go Festival, launched in D.C. at the famous Union Market. What began as a boutique event has since evolved into a cultural statement, proving that inclusivity and artistic integrity can draw crowds just as much as headliners and hype. In Toronto, that ethos found fertile ground.

The Performances

Emei was the first to greet this new stage, launching into her set with abundant energy and zeal. Despite the early slot, she bounded across the stage like it was already 9 p.m., mixing new material such as “What’s the Point?” with a playful cover of “Call Me Maybe.” Her set felt like a fitting festival overture, giving bright, witty, and unpretentious all at once. 

Next came Elio, who leaned into a softer, synth-pop sound that reflected the day’s emotional diversity and wholesomeness. As a Toronto native, she performed with a charming confidence that fed into the intimate and celebratory atmosphere. Tracks like “Charger” shimmered seamlessly through the afternoon air, and between verses, she thanked the crowd like she was greeting old friends. This unique mix of homegrown familiarity and open vulnerability captured the mood perfectly, as this felt like an event about real connection.

As the venue filled, one could observe a sea of mostly women and members of LGBTQ communities settling into the rhythm of the day, welcoming Julia Wolf, who took the stage with a cool, understated presence. Partnered only by one guitarist and one drummer, her minimalist setup enabled her airy voice to float effortlessly through the venue. At first, she sang with her gaze low, but as cheers grew louder, she loosened up and started joking with the audience and tossing in a tongue-in-cheek Twilight reference to fans’ great delight. The crowd stood on chairs, singing every word, aptly proving that confidence doesn’t have to be loud to be commanding.

Blondshell followed with her signature grunge revivalism, wearing a Miley Cyrus t-shirt and radiating a graceful defiance that nodded to rock history. Her band filled the space with warm distortion, her bassist’s harmonies cutting through to amplify her choruses. Witnessing her felt like a stark reminder of how far festival stages have come, transforming from the once-tokenized presence of women in rock to today’s unapologetic ownership of sound, space, and identity.

By mid-afternoon, Chelsea Cutler’s set tuned in to the ever-present vulnerability and bloomed into a dazzling display of strength. A brief technical glitch threatened her opening, but she carried on unfazed, channelling her frustration into raw power. When the sound finally steadied, she exhaled and dove headfirst into her ballads. Her conversational stage presence, warm and candid, made the large stage feel like the coziest living room you can imagine. “Thanks for showing up early,” she grinned, earning the kind of collective cheer that defines a tight-knit community. 

Then, as the golden hour began to wash across the stage, Ravyn Lenae emerged and elevated the festival into something quite transcendent. Her fluid movements, soft vocals, and elegant command turned every song into mesmerizing choreography. She didn’t need to direct the crowd at all; everyone followed her song instinctively, swaying and singing like extensions of her rhythm.

Dusk was now beginning to settle, and this signalled an almost immediate mood flip. Remi Wolf exploded onto the stage in a tutu and a riot of colours, her backdrop strewn with flowers. “Our job,” she yelled between songs, “is to keep the party f—ing going!”. The crowd happily obliged. Her playful chaos reached its peak when Julia Wolf returned for a surprise “Wolf Squared” moment that set the crowd roaring. With songs like “Disco Man” and “Photo ID,” Wolf transformed the festival into a kaleidoscope of explosive sound and frenetic movement, a wild celebration of imperfection, absurdity, and pure joy.

The closing act, Reneé Rapp, rounded off the night with a theatrical flourish. Appearing from a glowing, three-tiered star platform, she gleefully declared, “I need everyone to f—ing leave me alone!”, thus setting the tone for a set that balanced unbridled ferocity and intimacy. Her rock-leaning anthems, such as “Leave Me Alone” and “Good Girl”, were equally matched by delicate piano ballads like “Sometimes,” showcasing her brilliant range as both performer and storyteller. Her voice, swinging from Broadway precision to pop rebellion, filled the amphitheatre with cathartic release, ending this special night on an emotional high.

The Festival Safe Space

Looking back at this magnificent event, the design of All Things Go Toronto wasn’t just meant as a show of entertainment and glamour; it was rather a continuation of a long conversation about what festivals mean and who they serve. Since the turn of the millennium, the live music world has shifted from the testosterone-heavy chaos of early 2000s rock fests to the intentional inclusivity of modern boutique gatherings like Afropunk and Girlschool LA. These spaces, alongside All Things Go, recognize that the true longevity of festival culture depends not on ticket sales but on trust, safety, and belonging.

Toronto’s edition fit beautifully into that lineage, demonstrating the immense global appetite for inclusive spaces. It’s not about exclusion or identity politics; it’s really about expanding the definition and sense of true community. In a music industry dominated by algorithms and virality, All Things Go represents something slower and more enduring, embodying the art of curation as a form of care. And that’s what gives it real longevity, acting not as a search term or an annual ticket, but as a cultural touchstone in the ongoing evolution of inclusive music.