The mud has dried and the dust has returned – welcome to ACL round two!
On the second Friday of the music festival, the Chronicle team caught locals Almost Heaven making their ACL Fest debut, Aussie punks Amyl & the Sniffers pulling an even larger crowd than last weekend, and Kings of Leon filling the dubstep gap W1 headliner Skrillex left with good old-fashioned stadium rock. Our report:
Almost Heaven’s Pounding Electronic Debut
After last weekend’s rain-soaked mud pits, Weekend Two of ACL opened under a blazing sun, and Almost Heaven brought their own kind of heat. The Austin-based duo made their festival debut on Tito’s stage, drawing in early arrivals with earsplitting electro-punk beats and high-voltage industrial rhythms. Producer and vocalist Stefan Barraza flailed across the stage, dancing with reckless enthusiasm and striking a lone cymbal throughout the set, while drummer Jaelyn Valero maintained the cool, distant presence of Hope Sandoval, with a touch of Meg White’s stoic restraint.
The pair’s surreal stage presence extended to a children’s choir dressed in black and sunglasses, pint-sized doubles of Barraza, who joined them for “power music – elektrik revival.” Midway through the set, the frontman offered a rather unconventional account of how the duo came to be. “We were separated at birth. And they just wanted to see if we’d find our way back to each other, and we did,” he remarked.
“oscillation” brought a change of texture when Valero left her percussive post, her voice floating above the stark electronic production as Barraza moved the controls. After “baby teeth,” the lead singer turned to the children and declared them the “real rock stars,” to which their excitement felt palpable. They got one more moment in the spotlight during the unreleased “the feeling can’t control you,” holding up signs reading “STRESSED OUT! LET IT OUT” whenever the lyrics called for it. Against the abrasive beats and restless antics, the young ensemble made the whole spectacle feel delightfully off-kilter, as if the duo had built their own strange little world and invited us inside. – Miranda Garza
Brigitte Calls Me Baby Opens Weekend Two With Rock Star Swagger
There’s something to be said for a pure rock star persona, even at 1:15 in the afternoon. Opening the American Express main stage Friday, Brigitte Calls Me Baby oozed that suave and distant affectation, with frontman Wes Leavins addressing the crowd with a laconic, clenched-jaw drawl and exuding a James Dean cool (or perhaps a young Marlon Brando, given his “The Wild One” bicep tattoo).
The black-clad Chicago quintet came out sounding like a mix of Television and the Strokes – before Leavins’ quaking, Morrissey croon fell into full effect across “Truth Is Stranger Than Fiction,” from this year’s Irreversible, and new tune “How to Ignore a Feeling.” The Smiths comparisons extended to the band’s moody and brooding lyrics: a soundtrack of racing ennui through late night streets, or almost absurdist banality like “I want to die in your four-car garage” from the sweeping “I Wanna Die in the Suburbs.”
Yet the jagged post-punk guitars and Leavis’ torrential vocals pushed the 12-song set beyond just the dramatic, especially with the jittery “Pink Palace,” dance punk groove of “I Can Take the Sun Out of the Sky,” and jagged spike of hit “Slumber Party.” Closing with the Orbison-eque swell of “Impressively Average,” Brigitte Calls Me Baby proved anything but. – Doug Freeman
Radio Free Alice Rallies
As unforgiving as weekend one muddied up (cough), an afternoon set in Zilker Park for any post-punk act generally dishes out the same. Though only a mere 87 degrees, in trademark ACL Fest fashion, it sizzled like 95. Luckily, Aussie bands rally pretty tough, so unlike almost every other performer Friday, Radio Free Alice didn’t even mention the nuclear plasma star in the room. Instead, the Melbourne fourpiece pulled the other direction, minimalist but melodious, wherein bassist (and saxophonist) Michael Phillips does as much of the heavy lifting as Jules Paradiso’s wiry guitar, drummer Lochie Dowd’s headphone syncopation, and their frontman’s John Hughes vocals. Warm, rounded, pleasing – vulnerable – Noah Learmonth‘s singing just got better and better. Pete Doherty-tart one moment, then Razorlight-sweet the next – which is to say Britpop – the quartet put the boot in subtly with plumb bob “Look What You’ve Done.” In fact, the group’s full-length debut for Atlantic Records, What‘s In Between, drops this month. “I’d rather be stuck in Hell than stuck in Melbourne with reports to sell,” reveals one advance single, “Big Ideas.” Upbeat, increasingly hooky, and with Learmonth’s voice steadily seeping, steeping, they belonged in a club, although I’d rather be stranded on a nuclear sun with Radio Free Alice than stuck in ’Dillo Dirt. – Raoul Hernandez
S.G. Goodman Spins Melodious Stories
Zilker Park was back to being a playground of sun and dust when S.G. Goodman stepped onto the Beatbox stage for a mellow afternoon set. Any of Austin’s dimly lit, wooden stages might have provided a more fitting ambience for Goodman’s world-building, but the soothing performance eased festivalgoers into Weekend Two like a midday breeze.
The Kentucky songwriter’s distinctive lilting vibrato floated over the swaying crowd as she drew listeners into her richly detailed rural Southern universe with tracks from her 2025 record, Planting By the Signs. Opening with jagged hymn “Satellite,” dreamer manifesto “Fire Sign,” small town fable “Snapping Turtle,” and sweetly sentimental song “I’m in Love,” Goodman introduced her Texas-raised guitarist Gusti “Gus” Escalante before launching into a twangy cover of the Butthole Surfers’ “Pepper,” recently included in her album rerelease. Another Texas nod followed with a dialed-back cover of “I Lost It” by onetime Austinite Lucinda Williams.
Backed by multitasking drummer Benjamin Parks, who chimed in on harmonies throughout the set while balancing a tambourine in one hand and a drum stick in the other, Goodman then ripped into “Heat Lightning – Redux,” higher-velocity version of the sparse and soulful ballad. The electrified rendition provided one of the set’s more energetic moments, giving the band members a chance to show off their chops and throw some hair around before Goodman’s play on an Appalachian idiom, “I Can See the Devil.” Set-closing anthem “Work Until I Die” stirred cheers and chants from the crowd, sparking a bit of rowdier revelry that left fans warmed up for the day ahead. – Caroline Drew
Amyl & the Sniffers Scorch the Main Stage
Melbourne’s Amyl & the Sniffers proved the proverbial ray of light on a gloomy, boggy first weekend of ACL Fest. Sunglasses on front firecracker Amy Taylor and a three-times bigger throng yesterday distinguished the performances night to day. Still looking like Elvis, guitarist Declan Mehrtens once again serrated riffs with buzz-saw efficiency, tapping 1970s Detroit Rock City same as Aussie precursors/global punk pioneers Radio Birdman and the Saints. If he and his Gibson Explorer summoned the spirit of Ron Asheton and chops of Deniz Tek, then Taylor hollered a rallying cry no less as galvanizing as Zack de la Rocha, an equal bark and bite of lyricism, delivery, and sneer. In her case, the latter barely dents her constant grin. When she finally doused herself three-quarters of the way through the hourlong set on the headlining AmEx stage, her Tammy Wynette ’do ceded its iconography to a truly punk rock aura, the drenched front fury leaving it all onstage. Not that her anti-gravity lift can tether her. Bass substitute Lakota Vella of Melbourne punks Public Figures cut an Auf de Mar figure, while drummer Bryce Wilson hammered a life-giving upbeat as sure as Motown. Calling out ICE, supporting Palestine, and stressing trans solidarity, the singer and her Sniffers felt as singular as the unicorn on Wilson’s kit. “Is it hot out there?” wondered aka Dec Martens. “No it’s not!” Not as scorched as onstage, mate. – Raoul Hernandez
Joe Jordan in Darkness and Light
Inside Joe Jordan are two wolves. As the Cincinnati-based songwriter confessed during his evening set headlining the BMI stage on Friday, he really only writes about two topics: how much he loves his wife, and his battling some dark places of addiction and depression. For those familiar with the viral success of the former (like his streaming hit “Big Enough Mountain”), the latter can come across more than a little jarring. But no matter the subject matter, Jordan’s songs strike with an unabashed sincerity.
The quartet came out firing into “The Comeback” and “Ain’t Nobody Got Love,” with a hard edge on Jordan’s acoustic guitar and gravel, back-of-the-throat growl that ticked toward Zach Bryan. Likewise, “Sink Like a Stone” from this year’s debut LP The Heart Sessions licked with a righteous fury against the howling angst of “‘Spiraling Down,” “Boxed In,” and “Death to Fake Flowers.” Only halfway through the 13-song set did Jordan switch beats for the softer, genuinely moving ballads like “Frost on the Pines,” “Don’t Tell Alley,” and “To a Beautiful Girl.”
Jordan’s combination of big hooks and punching lyrics pulled tight a tension between rage and love, with the first half of the set clawing desperately toward God and the closing clinging to the light he’s found. – Doug Freeman
rusowsky Twists Genre, Meme Culture
rusowsky’s pop fusion found an intrigued and increasingly impressed crowd Friday, paired with an equally of-the-moment visual display. Four band members in identical black wigs and matching shirts reading simply “ok” welcomed the eccentric Madrid-based performer to the Beatbox stage. His convention-agnostic tracks set techno beats and bedroom pop vocals against flamenco-inspired guitar and flute flourishes.
Genre bending has become the norm, and fans eagerly grooved to house-inspired “pink + pink” and “BBY ROMEO,” which the classically trained musician opened with a shoutout to track collaborator Ralphie Choo.
rusowsky’s performance was as layered visually as it was sonically. The Apple Photo Booth-style dance videos onscreen initially charmed me, adding to the air of awkward adolescent joy encapsulated in the Spanish artist’s jumps. When the whole crew left the stage for roughly two minutes while home videos and gorilla memes filled the screen, skepticism about the visuals’ intended effect took over that amused feeling. AI-derived Italian brainrot clips and a live loop of cat videos on Instagram Reels left me with vague irritation and existential dread about the future of entertainment. What are we meant to draw from a communally experienced expression of art sharing the stage with icons of internet-driven isolation and generative AI slop? – Caroline Drew
Leon Thomas Shreds Beyond the R&B Label
“Wait, isn’t that the guy from Nickelodeon?” Yes it is. Brooklyn-born singer and multi-instrumentalist Leon Thomas III has come a long way from his child star days, earning three Grammys and establishing himself as a formidable force in contemporary R&B. Across his hourlong set, Thomas tapped into Hendrix-inspired electric alchemy, pushing his catalog toward full-throttle rock without losing the soul at its center.
Thomas moved easily between silky vocals and blistering guitar work, giving the set a volatility that kept even its quieter moments on edge. Before launching into “FAR FETCHED,” he assured the crowd, “It’s not raining this weekend. We’re gonna party, is that alright?” Twice, Thomas traded his guitar for a seat behind the drums, briefly shifting the focus from his solos to his sense of rhythm. “DANCING WITH DEMONS” took on a heavier, distortion-drenched edge, while “YES IT IS” slowed the momentum with a sleek, soulful turn. On “Baccarat,” he spun around as he shredded electric riffs, trading guitar licks with his bassist in a playful duel that kept escalating until a full-bodied crescendo.
By the end of the set, Thomas had moved from metallic shredding and wailing pedals to brief turns on percussion, and his bandmates met him at every turn. For closer, “MUTT,” the musician dropped to his knees, coaxing one last guitar solo into a showstopping finale. – Miranda Garza
Kings of Leon’s Stadium Rock Sing-Alongs
Among a lineup primarily inspiring mosh pits and frat flicks, Kings of Leon presented ACL attendees with a different kind of catharsis. The “ooh ooh ooh”s of “Revelry” and the “Ahhhh”s of “Pyro,” the “Oh-whoa-oh” in “Use Somebody” and “Yoooou” in “Sex on Fire”: Tight and tight-lipped, the alt-rock behemoths united an intergenerational T-Mobile audience in wordless, earnest sing-along.
Now prepping album 10, the band of brothers (and cousin) favored highlights from 2007’s all-bangers Because of the Times and 2008’s commercial breakthrough Only by the Night in curating their 20-song setlist. Jared Followill’s bass thrummed melodic on “Cold Desert” and driving on “On Call,” Matthew’s guitar soared on “Manhattan,” and frontman Caleb, over 15 years removed from a disastrous, drunken gig in Dallas that sent the band on hiatus, remained a strong and smiling vocalist throughout.
Highlights from their rough-and-tumble earlier output, including a slower but still burning “Molly’s Chambers,” yielded as thrilled a crowd reaction as middle-era numbers “Pyro” and “Waste a Moment.” Mercifully, the quartet skipped the snoozers from their two latest records, though Americana-tinged new single “My Whole World” slid easier into the Kings of Leon canon once the band welcomed fiddle player Kristin Weber for 2010’s twangy “Back Down South.”
Younger punks on the bill either explicitly (Amyl & the Sniffers) or implicitly (Turnstile) used their amplified presence to offer political statements from the festival stage. The closest thing to a line in the sand drawn by these good old boys, raised by a Pentecostal preacher in Oklahoma and Tennessee, was a “U” affixed to the the “O” in bubble gum-blowing drummer Nathan’s KOL kick drum – Friday’s set, of course, landed the day before the annual Red River Rivalry pitting Oklahoma against Texas.
These Weekend Two headliners felt distinctly old-school in this way: Few words from a well-oiled rock & roll machine, Kings of Leon knows, always leave them wanting more. – Carys Anderson
