📍ACL Festival — October 3-5, 2025
Written by Clinton Camper
We made it through ACL Weekend One — three days of music, madness, and more wristbands than I knew what to do with. I was lucky enough to be approved to cover the festival by the amazing press and media team at C3 Presents, and let me tell you, they take care of their people.
The Press Lounge became my home base — Wi-Fi, shaded seating, AC bathrooms (a true luxury), snacks, and daily happy hours with catered food and drinks. I stopped in Friday and Happy Chicks chicken fingers were being served, and again Sunday for mini Philly cheesesteaks that were worth every step through the dust. It’s also where outlets like the Statesman, Chronicle, and 101X (plus many more) host interviews — and the best place to sneak away mid-fest to post stories, cool down, and recharge before the next set.
My media pass also got me into the BMI Lounge, complete with side-stage access, cold drinks, and umbrellas for shade — SPOILER ALERT: I caught Nicky You’re from there on Friday.
Outside of media perks, I was invited to That Tito’s Lounge, and it was a dream: five different cocktails (including an espresso martini topped with a wafer cookie), free swag, cowboy hat customizations, hair braiding, and blessedly cold AC bathrooms.
The BeatBox Beverages Lounge, a newcomer this year, also reached out ahead of the fest and absolutely delivered. It was bright, loud, and full of life, with DJ sets, colorful cocktails, and the most addictive frozen mango drink with a tajĂn rim and tajĂn gummy bears.
And just when I thought I couldn’t possibly have more access, a buddy from Miller Lite handed me lounge entry there too: more snacks, shade, AC, and an open bar stocked with Miller products and frozen Simply Spiked cocktails.
To say I was strapped with access is an understatement, but even with all the lounges and perks, I stayed focused on what I came for: the music.
The Music
Friday kicked off hot — literally and figuratively. The kind of heat that hits you before you’ve even scanned your wristband. I started my day at the BMI stage catching Nicky You’re, who radiates pure sunshine pop energy. “Sunroof” still goes crazy live, and the crowd was fully locked in from the jump. It was the perfect way to ease into the weekend — no chaos yet, just blue skies, bouncy pop hooks, and everyone grinning ear to ear.
From there, King Princess reminded everyone why she’s a festival favorite — swagger, wit, and that perfect mix of rockstar confidence and unbothered charm. She strutted across the stage in total command, cracking jokes between songs and tossing off one-liners like she was holding court. There’s a kind of electricity to her presence — messy, magnetic, and completely self-assured. At one point, she locked eyes with the crowd mid-song, grinning like she knew exactly what she was doing — daring us not to fall in love with her. Spoiler: we all did.
I swung by the Miller Lite stage for The Favors, the new project from Ashe and Finneas, and you could feel the buzz before they even walked out. This was their Austin debut, and the crowd knew it — people were pressed up to the barricade, singing along from the first note, phones in the air, completely dialed in. Their chemistry was effortless, the kind of connection that doesn’t need words. The music had this polished melancholy both artists are known for — lush, cinematic, and a little heartbreaking in the best way. It felt like one of those “I was there when it started” moments, and judging by the roar of the crowd, everyone else felt it too.
Then I made my way to the Lady Bird stage for Briscoe, one of Austin’s own. There’s something extra special about watching a local band command a festival crowd in their home city — the pride is palpable. Their set struck that perfect balance of warmth and nostalgia, the kind of folk-rock storytelling that just feels like Texas. The harmonies were golden, the trumpet solos soared, and the crowd swayed under the sun, completely locked in. It was one of those moments that made Zilker feel small — like the whole park was sharing the same heartbeat.
Role Model took the T-Mobile stage next, and his mix of sincerity and humor had everyone locked in. He’s got that everyman charm — like the guy who’d compliment your outfit in line for iced coffee, then write a breakup song about you. I made the call to dip out a few minutes early to make my next set — which turned out to be a huge mistake because he brought out Hilary Duff during “Sally When the Wine Runs Out.” Truly heartbreaking. But I was on a mission to see one of my favorite bands of all time for the 20th time, so I can’t even be mad about it.
That band, of course, was Cage the Elephant, and they reminded everyone why they’re one of the best live rock acts on the planet. The second the lights hit, the entire field shifted — that kind of shared jolt where you know you’re about to witness something wild. Matt Shultz was pure chaos in motion, darting across the stage, climbing anything in sight, and throwing his body into every lyric like the music was pulling him forward. It wasn’t just a performance — it was an exorcism wrapped in glitter and feedback. The band sounded razor-sharp, every guitar riff cutting clean through the night air. Watching them felt like being plugged straight into an electric current; every song hit like an adrenaline rush you didn’t want to end.
Then came Empire of the Sun, who turned the stage into something out of a dream — or maybe a feverish sci-fi hallucination. Their set design looked like a buried statue coming to life, with a massive sculpted head and an outstretched arm rising from the ground, as if the stage itself was waking up. The dancers shimmered in metallic costumes, moving in hypnotic unison while strobes pulsed through clouds of haze. Luke Steele strutted across the stage like a space-age prophet — part rock god, part alien royalty — his guitar glinting under the lights. It was theatrical, bizarre, and completely mesmerizing, the kind of performance that makes you stop trying to understand it and just give in to the spectacle. It was a reminder that weird is beautiful, and ACL is better for it.
And finally, Hozier. The air cooled, the sky went deep blue, and the crowd seemed to collectively exhale as he stepped onstage. His voice carried across Zilker like it was built for that moment — smooth, rich, and magnetic. When he launched into “Take Me to Church,” everyone sang along like it was gospel. The lights glowed, couples swayed, strangers hugged. It felt like the perfect ending to a perfect first day — the calm before the chaos of Saturday and Sunday.
Saturday was wall-to-wall goodness. Spacey Jane got the day started with jangly guitars and breezy melodies that just feel like an Austin afternoon. Olivia Dean’s voice was smooth as honey — charming, soulful, and impossible not to sway to. Modest Mouse gave us the perfect dose of nostalgia, while MARINA delivered a set that was pure theater — costume changes, crowd singalongs, and total pop star energy. RIIZE, one of the festival’s most hyped newcomers, drew a massive crowd at the BeatBox stage — they’re polished, fun, and already have that next-big-thing shine.
Then came Doechii, and she was an absolute force. She ripped her jeans pretty early into her set and immediately joked with the crowd, asking us not to look at her ass — then proceeded to twerk like she owned the place. The crowd lost it. She’s a true wordsmith and a performer with magnetic energy; I guarantee she’ll be headlining festivals next year.
After Doechii’s set ended, I stayed put at the Amex stage — determined to get as close as possible for the night’s headliner (and, in my opinion, the headliner of the entire weekend): Sabrina Carpenter. I was in it for the long haul.
Sabrina is like a real-life Polly Pocket come to life (shoutout to Chanda for that perfect comparison if she’s reading this) — all charm, class, and pure pop perfection. She commands the stage with effortless confidence that feels both playful and razor-sharp. Every hair flip, every wink, every cheeky grin was perfectly timed. The crowd was completely wrapped around her finger, belting every lyric back to her like gospel. “Espresso” live was a full-on scream-along moment — the kind that makes your voice crack and you don’t even care. Sabrina isn’t just having a pop-star moment — she is the moment.
By Sunday, the heat, the dust, and the sleep deprivation all set in — but so did the magic. The morning walk through Zilker had that mix of exhaustion and adrenaline that only ACL veterans understand. My shoes were still crusted in dust from Saturday, my phone was hanging by a thread, and my body was running purely on caffeine and excitement.
It was so hot and felt way too early for Flowerovlove’s set, but I made my way pretty close to the barricade so I could catch some shade cast by the stage — a tiny pocket of survival I was determined to claim. Her set felt like floating — dreamy, gentle, and full of warmth despite the rising heat. She’s young, charming, and already commands the stage with this easy, natural confidence. At the end, she tossed posters into the crowd, and I somehow caught one — a rare festival victory moment — only to accidentally set it down somewhere later and never see it again. RIP to that poster, wherever it lives now.
I caught Haute & Freddy next at the Amex stage, and their chemistry on stage was contagious — smooth grooves, easy banter, and that kind of effortless charm that makes you want to be friends with them. I sat in the grass for part of their set with a frozen drink in hand, talking to a couple next to me who were there just to “vibe and survive” (accurate summary of day three energy).
Then came The Dare, who completely flipped the mood. His set was chaos in the best possible way — sweaty, unfiltered, and full of that downtown-after-midnight energy. People were dancing like no one was watching, and honestly, by that point in the weekend, no one cared if anyone was.
Wet Leg followed and might’ve had the funniest banter of the weekend. They’re cheeky and cool without trying — “Chaise Longue” hit like a shot of pure serotonin. During their set, I ran into someone I hadn’t seen since college who screamed “YOU’RE STILL DOING ATXCONCERT?!” mid-chorus, which honestly felt very on-brand for an Austin festival moment.
Disco Lines came next at the Miller Lite stage and turned the field into a massive outdoor rave. It was impossible not to move — the bass was thumping, people were spinning their BeatBox cups in the air, and someone behind me yelled “THIS IS MY CHURCH!” during a drop. Can’t argue with that.
Then, T-Pain. The man is a national treasure. He came out swinging with “Booty Wurk,” had the entire park screaming along to “Buy U a Drank,” and still somehow topped it with a surprise acoustic moment that turned into a crowd singalong. There was this woman near me holding a giant cutout of his face, and when he spotted it, he just laughed and said, “That’s old me, I like your dedication.” He’s funny, humble, and one of the most purely entertaining performers I’ve ever seen — a total pro.
By the time Polo & Pan hit the stage, the sun had already dipped behind the skyline and the air had finally cooled off a bit. The lights came alive, the crowd loosened up, and everything felt a little dreamlike. Their set was hypnotic, groovy, and cinematic — the perfect soundtrack to a Sunday night in Zilker.
Then came Phantogram, closing out my weekend on the BeatBox stage. Their set was moody, bold, and beautifully loud — the lights cut through the smoke, the bass rattled through the ground, and Sarah Barthel’s voice sounded like pure electricity. I caught part of their set side-stage thanks to my BeatBox access, sipping the last of that frozen mango drink I’d been obsessed with all weekend, and it felt like the perfect full-circle moment. The music, the lights, the drink, the exhaustion — everything synced up perfectly for one last surge of ACL magic.
I decided to skip John Summit and The Killers, not out of shade, but because I wanted to end my ACL weekend on that Phantogram high — and I had to race off to catch MARINA’s late-night show at ACL Live. Still, I couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness knowing Doja Cat, my top must-see, had canceled her slot.
The Food
Credit: Roger Ho
I take my ACL Eats almost as seriously as the lineup.
Friday started strong with a grilled cheese from Burro — simple, crispy perfection — followed by a scoop of Amy’s “Congress Parade” ice cream, a mix of sweet cream, pink cake batter, rainbow sprinkles, and frosted animal crackers. Pure serotonin in a cup.
Saturday was all about tradition: a chicken cone from Mighty Cone and nachos from El Patio, two festival staples I’ve been grabbing almost every year since I started coming to ACL.
By Sunday, the food gods decided to bless me. I stopped by Southside Flying Pizza, where the guy behind the counter made a wild “trash can shot” bet with his empty water bottle. I told him I believed in him — and when he sank it from twenty feet away, he grinned, handed me a slice of pepperoni on the house, and said, “Thanks for believing in me.” Between the free pizza, the sunset, and the beers still lingering in my system, it felt like ACL itself was rewarding my optimism.
Three days, four lounges, twenty-three artists, countless drinks and snacks, and more unforgettable moments than I can count. I left Zilker dusty, happy, and already counting down the days until next year — or, if you’re crazy like I am, next weekend.
