Additional Reporting and Photos by Matthew Meyer and Dakin Hardwick
Portola has figured out how to live in the impossible: a perfect balance between a giant warehouse rave, an art-party fever dream, and a legacy showcase built around titans like The Chemical Brothers and LCD Soundsystem. The festival grounds themselves were half the trip, stages stretched across a working port, tucked between hulking cranes and an airplane-hangar-sized warehouse. One side of the grounds was dominated by a massive ship; the other opened out onto the Bay, where the breeze mercifully cut through the heat.
Scantily clad post-Burning Man pilgrims roamed like the playa had drifted into San Francisco, fur and neon armor still glowing. Unlike so many other festivals, Portola spared us the dreaded sound bleed; every stage claimed its own sonic territory without stepping on another’s toes.
My crew and I employed the classic “divide and conquer” strategy, sprinting between stages to cover the sprawling area. The Pier stage found its pulse with Bob Moses, building an introspective set that still demanded movement. Caribou filled the Crane stage with cinematic, kaleidoscopic textures that felt less like a DJ performance and more like a living film. I admit here as a wide scoped listener that the Caribou that I saw wasn’t the Caribou that I expected and I cannot recall what band showed me I wasn’t alone in thinking that “Caribou” was indeed the Caribou I was there to see. The band I cannot recall had the song “Bees” playing from the Caribou I was hoping to see before their set! Thank you to that mystery band. Magdalena Bay shimmered with pastel-pop energy, her face from nose up painted blue, sounds that likened to Kate Bush and Braids. I was truly entranced and ended up a fan by the end of the set. Kelly Lee Owens offered crystalline techno that cut through the industrial skeleton of the port like a spiritual heartbeat. Duke Dumont dialed in polished house grooves that were pure and classic, arms in the air, legs too tired to care.
Christina Aguilera
But as the sun went down, the icons took over. Christina Aguilera turned Portola into her own coliseum. In the photo pit, I could practically smell the arm hair singeing off security guards as pyro ripped through the air. The scale, the fire, the voice, she reminded everyone she’s no nostalgia act; she’s still a reigning diva. I won’t say it beat Madonna’s cage-drop I witnessed a decade ago, but it came damn close. Would I see her again? Absolutely.
LCD Soundsystem
LCD Soundsystem closed the night with no gimmicks, just pure craft. I have seen this band countless times and every single time its as good as energetic as beautiful as tight as emotional while maintaining a NYC cool the whole show. James Murphy and crew leaned into their dance-punk hymns with grooves and wit, and the crowd responded like a choir. Every chant, every beat, every synth stab hit like scripture. They anchored Day One with catharsis, making exhaustion feel like transcendence.
Day One at Portola was a sprint, a rave, and a fever dream. The festival scattered us on purpose, but the joy was in chasing the sparks. Day Two, however, was like a warm hug of joy, littered with a special kind of nostalgia.
Haute & Freddy
I genuinely had no idea what I was in for when I entered Pier 80 that Sunday. I slowly made my way to the Pier Stage, turned a corner, and was confronted by the most perfectly costumed and made-up trio I have ever seen onstage. Dressed as French socialites in the 18th century (I believe. European cultural history is not my strong suit), the drummer and the bassist/synth player were smiles the entire set. Singer Michelle Buzz, with her bright red wig shaped into what I can best describe as cat ears, was mesmerizing to watch perform. She definitely pulled in elements of Kate Bush, Marina, Chapelle Roan, and Lene Lovich, creating a full theatrical spectacle without the use of lights or props. I’m all in on Haute & Freddy and can’t wait to see more of this group.
Kreayshawn
Oakland legend Kreayshawn made her triumphant return to the live stage earlier this Summer at the punk-leaning Mosswood Meltdown. That crowd embraced her set in a full, sweaty, mosh glory. Her set at Portola was a testament to her versatility. Within moments, she had a very different audience eating from her hands. Kreayshawn’s mic skills are vastly underrated, and her brisk flow may have actually IMPROVED in the 10+ years she’s spent away from the stage. And her two Hello Kitty-costumed backup dancers managed to support the main act, when something as silly as that could have easily overshadowed the main attraction. Also, “Gucci Gucci” still hits like it did in 2012.
Fact: I already love Noga Erez. The Vandalist is a PERFECT rap record. This was the set that I was most excited about, and she did not let me down. This was her first day of the US tour, and her first show with the band she brought with her. Some technical difficulties pushed her start time about 10 minutes, which sadly meant no “AYAYAY,” but her flow was on point, with her laid-back yet savage energy, and I did not stop moving from the moment she took the stage. My only complaint is that I needed another two hours of that. If anyone has an extra ticket to her show at Bimbo’s on my birthday, please let me know.
Rico Nasty
I’ve historically called Rico Nasty “Nu-Metal.” I’m wrong. Not that she isn’t blending hip-hop and metal. It’s that she is so much more than that. She is much more ferocious than anything from Korn or Limp Bizkit. She has a sexy swagger, with heavy beats and fierce guitar. If anything, she’s a modern-day update on what funk legend Betty Davis was doing —making music that oozes sultry confidence, which is both rock ‘n’ roll and bigger than rock ‘n’ roll.
Did you know that the Rapture was due to happen on 9/23? And The Rapture, the band, made their live return on 9/21? Anyways, this was a solid warm-up set while the band prepared to bring all the worthy people to meet their lord and savior. It was also the odd band out, as it consisted of bass, guitar, and drums, and it delivered a blistering set of disco-inflected punk. Luke Jenner was clearly conjuring Tom Verlaine with each blistering solo and his syncopated sing-speak. It was a lot of fun, but it seemed like this set would be better suited to the aforementioned Mosswood Meltdown or in a dark club with a full-on circle pit.
Boy Harsher
I’ve long hid from Boy Harsher. They seemed to come from nowhere and suddenly were massive. Was this a mistake? It may have been. This blend of darkwave and new wave (new darkwave?) was exactly what I wanted and needed right then. After a series of all-encompassing performances, they let me pull focus and be with the music.
Arca
Arca was the wild card, pure, raw experimentation. Her set bent rhythm and form into something alien, jagged, and hypnotic. One moment you’re dancing, the next you’re not sure if you’re ascending or disintegrating. It was confrontational and magnetic, the kind of performance that made you feel like you were witnessing the future in real time.
Moby
When I was a young tween, one of my older sister’s best friends would come over and play me music that often blew my mind. One day, he brought over Tom Waits’ Bone Machine and Moby’s Move. Two very different records that changed the way I listened to music forever. I’ve gone hot and cold with Moby over the years, especially since he took his hiatus from doing full-band live shows. I honestly didn’t know what to expect. I wasn’t even sure if I would still like Moby after all this time, as my tastes have changed in the 10+ years since I last really listened to Moby.
This was billed as “Moby- 25 Years Of Play” when the festival was initially announced. This was changed to simply “Moby” after a week or two. And this set was clearly not a Play-centered performance. Accompanied by strings, a DJ, a bassist, a back up vocalist/percussionist, and a female singer, with Moby hiding on the far left of the stage playing bongos, and they kicked things off with Everything Is Wrong’s “Everytime You Touch Me,” a classic Moby rave anthem: Melodramatic piano, soulful vocals, and with a high energy, techno beats. He set the tone for the set with this song. This was a Moby set I’ve never seen before- he was in “old school” rave mode, but doing that in a live band setting. It was genius, and I didn’t realize how badly I needed this set. He kept the rave atmosphere going with, well, his first big single, “Go.” Even when he played songs off the blue-flavored Play, they were recast in a much more classic, dancefloor manner. The only hint of Moby, the rock star, was during “Bodyrock” when he strapped on his electric guitar and got to indulge his inner guitar god.
It wasn’t nostalgia karaoke; it was muscle, grit, and a reminder that his catalog still has teeth when given flesh and bone. Hearing those anthems with drums and guitars behind them transformed the set into a celebration that transcended generations: a true Portola curveball, and one of the weekend’s best surprises. I need an epic, 3-hour-long version of this Moby live show, and I need it as soon as possible.
Setlist
- Everytime You Touch Me
- Go!
- Natural Blues
- Bodyrock
- Porcelain
- Why Does My Heart Feel So Bad?
- Next Is The E
- Extreme Ways
- Feeling So Real
- Thousand
Peggy Gou
Peggy Gou spun future-forward house with the kind of confidence that makes the dance floor feel like prophecy. Her grooves were playful and precise, laced with a knowing wink that kept the energy buoyant but never lightweight. It was easy to see why she’s become one of the most in-demand DJs on the planet; she had the Portola crowd moving as if she’d programmed their heartbeats herself.
The Prodigy
The Prodigy wasn’t just about that iconic Firestarter video we all wore out on MTV; their Portola set was hard, heavy, and relentless. The stage was chock full, a head-nodding wave of metallic energy pulsing outward. In contrast, Underworld kept things buoyant and bouncing, a jauntier rhythm that felt like running through neon light. Together, the two sets showcased Portola’s dual spirit: raw aggression on one end, euphoric release on the other.
