Noise Pop 2025: A Recap

Noise Pop 2025 kicked off with a bang — and my festival experience started with picking up my badge at the California Academy of Sciences on a Thursday evening. Coinciding with the Academy’s weekly NightLife program, the scene was electric. Even though I was solo, it struck me as possibly the best Bay Area date night I’ve seen in years. Noise Pop was in full swing, contributing DJs and a dance floor to the evening’s programming. But the real magic came from the Academy itself. There’s something about wandering through the aquarium under black lights, music pulsing through the exhibits as exotic fish glide by. People of all ages roamed the space in pairs or pods, sipping craft cocktails from the multiple bars scattered throughout. Small science demos popped up in every corner, adding an intellectual edge to the atmosphere. It was a perfect blend of science, art, and social buzz — I’d give it a solid 100 for ingenuity and wholesome romantic fun.

Noise Pop has always been about intimacy — connecting with music in small, meaningful spaces. From February 20 to March 2, the festival sprawled across some of San Francisco’s most storied venues, from the grandeur of the Fillmore to the breathtaking sacred space of Grace Cathedral. Big names like St. Vincent (who played an intimate show at Grace Cathedral), Ben Gibbard, Soccer Mommy, and Earl Sweatshirt anchored the lineup.

My week started with an unofficial Noise Pop show that felt legendary. Michael Shannon — the actor — has been touring the U.S., method-acting as Michael Stipe of R.E.M., fronting a tribute band that performs entire R.E.M. albums. On this particular night, they tore through Fables of the Reconstruction with reverence and raw aliveness almost of Broadway quality. They’ll be tackling Life’s Rich Pageant next year.

Shannon’s backing band was a who’s who of alternative rock royalty: members of Bob Mould’s projects, Superchunk, and Wilco. Shannon embodied Stipe’s nervous charisma and poetic vulnerability so entirely that it felt like an uncanny act of musical channeling. Dave Hill, the comedian and guitarist who opened the show, set the tone with his offbeat humor — imagine a mix of Neil Hamburger, Jack Black, and Hugh Grant with a guitar in hand.

One of the week’s most moving events was the David Lynch memoriam at the Great American Music Hall. It was a gathering that brought together punks and Twin Peaks devotees, many dressed in creative nods to Lynch’s work—Audrey Horne sweaters, Blue Velvet dresses, smudged lipstick, and slouchy ’80s trench coats à la Dale Cooper.

The Red Room Orchestra headlined the event, which was more subdued than their usual Lynch tributes. In the past, the Giant might have sat in the balcony, or Leland Palmer might have taken the stage to deliver a chilling rendition of “Little Lambsie Divey.” But with Lynch’s recent passing, the mood was more intimate and reverent. The RRO lineup featured members of That Dog and The Stooges. Petra Haden gave a haunting vocal performance that added an extra layer of depth to the night’s emotional weight.

A highlight of the evening was the presence of Rebekah Del Rio — the voice behind “Llorando” from Mulholland Drive. Del Rio was signing beautiful posters designed by Matt Adams, which featured animated depictions of Lynch’s characters from across his filmography. Midway through the evening, Del Rio took the stage and delivered a devastatingly powerful version of “Llorando.” The room fell into a stunned silence as her voice soared, capturing the same aching vulnerability that made her performance in Mulholland Drive so unforgettable.

Instead of the usual cast members, two figures from Lynch’s transcendental meditation community led the crowd in a three-minute breathing and visualization practice. The band performed a couple of Lynch’s rare solo instrumental pieces — modern, spastic, and off-kilter. A surreal highlight came when one of the TM leaders — tall, gangly, and looking like a sped-up wind-up toy — danced and sang like it was “Crazy Clown Time.” Look that song up, but you might want to take a few slow, meditative breaths first.

The night ended abruptly after a few acts, feeling more like a true sendoff than a celebration. Lynch left behind a legacy of creativity and mystery.

Later in the week, I caught American Analog Set’s two-hour retrospective set. In the late ’90s and early aughts, their album The Fun of Watching Fireworks was on repeat for me — a road trip album, a sleepy dreamy album, pure nostalgia. Before they took the stage, the gentleman introducing them invited the audience to think back to a time when this music meant everything — to remember the people and places that were part of that era. It hit me hard. I thought of a few friends who have since departed, and I was struck by how one small comment could summon so much personal ephemera.

The band sounded perfect. The room was warm and full, and Bob Mould was sitting in the third row alongside other music gurus — a sign that this audience was filled with true audiophilia. The stage was adorned with six or seven large circles suspended from the ceiling, low and intimate, just above the band.

Byron Mayhew opened the set. His demeanor was that of a chill guitar teacher, looping sounds, pedals, and clean, crisp electric guitar tracks reminiscent of Andrew Bird. He even covered Kendrick Lamar’s “Love” with a soulful indie blues aesthetic — a gorgeous, unexpected treat.

I wrapped up my festival experience with Dani Offline in a cozy, 100-person room next to SFJAZZ. The restaurant connected to SFJAZZ serves a mean French 75 and a beautifully simple cup of vegetable soup — the perfect pre-show warm-up. Dani Offline leads an indie soul/jazz ensemble that feels primed for big things. Her vocal control and range are jaw-dropping — while I hesitated to make any direct comparisons, Kelsey Lu came to mind, more for Dani’s raw talent and artistic control than any stylistic similarity. The audience was deeply engaged and strikingly diverse — every age, style, and demographic represented. It felt like a genuine global summit gathered around the magnetic pull of Dani’s voice. She’s the kind of artist whose career you sense is about to explode.

Noise Pop 2025 reminded us that music festivals don’t have to be about scale or spectacle. Sometimes, the most meaningful experiences come from standing in a small room, surrounded by strangers, and letting yourself get lost in a song. This year’s Noise Pop was a triumph of intimacy—a festival that reminded us why we fell in love with music in the first place.