Godsmack and Stone Temple Pilots Reignite Rock Rivalry on 2026 Tour

Mia Reynolds, 2/3/2026Join Godsmack and Stone Temple Pilots as they reignite their rock rivalry on the 2026 "Rise of Rock World Tour." Experience a nostalgia-infused setlist, thrilling performances by Dorothy, and the power of familiar hits. Don’t miss this chance to relive the music that defined a generation!

It’s 2026, not that you’d know it from the posters. Godsmack, those steely survivors of rock radio’s golden age, have announced what’s been branded The Rise of Rock World Tour. Not with new tunes or a reinvented sound (for better or worse, songwriting has been neatly tucked away), but with a setlist as familiar as your first concert T-shirt. Sully Erna, ever the frontman, leads the charge, supported by bassist Robbie Merrill and a pair of new additions filling out the stage. There’s something almost comforting—defiant, still—about an act refusing to be anything but itself. Of course, a few critics will line up with their usual eyebrow raises. “A shell of their former self,” as one piece cheerfully pointed out, tossing a bit of shade at the band’s revolving lineup. But there’s another way to look at it: Why resist the gravitational pull of a wall-of-sound nostalgia if it still works?

Stone Temple Pilots, another mainstay from the soundtrack of adolescent misadventures, join the bill. Their lineup might have shifted as often as Michigan weather, yet lose none of their edge live; there’s a kind of ache in their performance, a ragged sharpness that suits these years. And then there’s Dorothy, adding a streak of festival grit—her voice, a thunderstorm rolling in over halfway-emptied beer cans, seems tailor-made for open air and rising decibel levels. The tour’s design reads less like a random shuffle and more like a playlist handpicked by someone who once made the walk to class with lyrics scribbled on their sneakers.

The first show drops May 7th at Welcome to Rockville—think sunscreen, sweat, and the first jolt of amps in an open field—and then it’s off, weaving through places legendary and otherwise: Austin, Toronto, Vegas, a brand-new amphitheater here, a nostalgia-infused Pine Knob Theatre there. For Michigan folks, June’s going to be noisy, with two stops that promise a kind of communal homecoming. Meanwhile, the finale lands in Nampa, Idaho—hardly an obvious choice, but maybe perfect for a September night stained with the last chords of summer.

Curious about tickets? Better set that calendar reminder for Friday, February 6, 10 a.m.—good luck outpacing the bots. Citi cardholders get a sly early start, as always; you know the drill—fingers warmed up for the perpetual refresh, wallets at the ready. In 2025, streaming has all but wiped out record store lines, but if anything, ticket sales have only gotten more competitive; some things never get easier.

The phrase “play the hits” gets tossed around with a mixture of affection and derision—sometimes both by the same person over a single beer. As if there’s something unambitious about leaning into memory, about choosing to revisit, rather than reinvent. But perhaps that’s missing the point; reinvention’s not the only way forward. Sometimes what keeps folks coming back isn’t the promise of the new but the reassurance of the known—the healing thump of a bass line that once blasted through an old pair of headphones, the crowd’s collective roar at the first muddy notes of “Voodoo” or “Plush.” Maybe there’s an art to letting the music do what it’s always done—bring people together for a few noisy hours, to forget, or maybe remember, everything at once.

So, whether you’re still loyal to that “Awake” CD rattling around your glovebox or you picked up Godsmack’s catalog by way of a curated playlist last weekend, the invitation stands. There’s room for both the diehards and the newly interested beneath the stage lights—edges softened by the years, but passion undiminished. The Rise of Rock World Tour isn’t an innovation contest; it’s a reunion, an act of musical preservation, a chance for old friends—onstage and off—to meet again in the only place that ever really felt like home.

One more night under the stars, one more singalong, one more chorus of guitars that mean just a little too much. After all, maybe that’s exactly what summer—and rock—were always about.

You can almost taste it on the air—summer’s heavy with anticipation, the first notes of distant guitar echoing down sticky streets. Somewhere, the amphitheaters have begun shaking off a season’s worth of dust, while well-worn black band tees—some impossibly faded and still bearing last decade’s tour dates—surface from the depths of dresser drawers. If memory serves, something about those first sun-bleached weeks always signals live music’s return, especially the kind that takes itself just seriously enough.It’s 2026, not that you’d know it from the posters. Godsmack, those steely survivors of rock radio’s golden age, have announced what’s been branded The Rise of Rock World Tour. Not with new tunes or a reinvented sound (for better or worse, songwriting has been neatly tucked away), but with a setlist as familiar as your first concert T-shirt. Sully Erna, ever the frontman, leads the charge, supported by bassist Robbie Merrill and a pair of new additions filling out the stage. There’s something almost comforting—defiant, still—about an act refusing to be anything but itself. Of course, a few critics will line up with their usual eyebrow raises. “A shell of their former self,” as one piece cheerfully pointed out, tossing a bit of shade at the band’s revolving lineup. But there’s another way to look at it: Why resist the gravitational pull of a wall-of-sound nostalgia if it still works?Stone Temple Pilots, another mainstay from the soundtrack of adolescent misadventures, join the bill. Their lineup might have shifted as often as Michigan weather, yet lose none of their edge live; there’s a kind of ache in their performance, a ragged sharpness that suits these years. And then there’s Dorothy, adding a streak of festival grit—her voice, a thunderstorm rolling in over halfway-emptied beer cans, seems tailor-made for open air and rising decibel levels. The tour’s design reads less like a random shuffle and more like a playlist handpicked by someone who once made the walk to class with lyrics scribbled on their sneakers.The first show drops May 7th at Welcome to Rockville—think sunscreen, sweat, and the first jolt of amps in an open field—and then it’s off, weaving through places legendary and otherwise: Austin, Toronto, Vegas, a brand-new amphitheater here, a nostalgia-infused Pine Knob Theatre there. For Michigan folks, June’s going to be noisy, with two stops that promise a kind of communal homecoming. Meanwhile, the finale lands in Nampa, Idaho—hardly an obvious choice, but maybe perfect for a September night stained with the last chords of summer.Curious about tickets? Better set that calendar reminder for Friday, February 6, 10 a.m.—good luck outpacing the bots. Citi cardholders get a sly early start, as always; you know the drill—fingers warmed up for the perpetual refresh, wallets at the ready. In 2025, streaming has all but wiped out record store lines, but if anything, ticket sales have only gotten more competitive; some things never get easier.The phrase “play the hits” gets tossed around with a mixture of affection and derision—sometimes both by the same person over a single beer. As if there’s something unambitious about leaning into memory, about choosing to revisit, rather than reinvent. But perhaps that’s missing the point; reinvention’s not the only way forward. Sometimes what keeps folks coming back isn’t the promise of the new but the reassurance of the known—the healing thump of a bass line that once blasted through an old pair of headphones, the crowd’s collective roar at the first muddy notes of “Voodoo” or “Plush.” Maybe there’s an art to letting the music do what it’s always done—bring people together for a few noisy hours, to forget, or maybe remember, everything at once.So, whether you’re still loyal to that “Awake” CD rattling around your glovebox or you picked up Godsmack’s catalog by way of a curated playlist last weekend, the invitation stands. There’s room for both the diehards and the newly interested beneath the stage lights—edges softened by the years, but passion undiminished. The Rise of Rock World Tour isn’t an innovation contest; it’s a reunion, an act of musical preservation, a chance for old friends—onstage and off—to meet again in the only place that ever really felt like home.One more night under the stars, one more singalong, one more chorus of guitars that mean just a little too much. After all, maybe that’s exactly what summer—and rock—were always about.