2025.09.21 – Portola Festival, San Francisco, USA

Date: 21st September 2025
Event: Portola Festival
Venue: Pier 80
City: San Francisco
Country: USA
Support: see timetable

Tracklist:
1. Voodoo People
2. Omen
3. Light Up The Sky
4. Omen Reprise
5. Firestarter
6. Roadblox
7. Poison
8. No Good (Start The Dance)
9. Invaders Must Die
10. Breathe
Encore:
11. Smack My Bitch Up
12. Take Me To The Hospital
13. Out Of Space

Extra info:
Crane Stage timetable:
13:30 Shee
14:25 Bolis Pupul
15:20 Swimming Paul
16:35 Noga Erez
17:35 Rico Nasty
18:45 Blood Orange
20:15 Moby
21:45 The Prodigy

Review by Sery Morales and Matt Pang, www.riffmagazine.com:
While the first day of Portola Festival leaned on nostalgia and big-tent spectacle, the second doubled down on contrast: veteran rave gods vs. genre-shifting newcomers and warehouse grit alongside velvet-smooth soul music. Sunday’s lineup felt like a field guide of electronic music from The Prodigy’s breakbeat blitzkrieg to Moby’s gospel-infused meditations and Underworld’s hypnotic spirals.
More than 30 years into their career, The Prodigy still know exactly how to weaponize sound. The English electronic punk pioneers, still in the middle of their return following the 2019 passing of vocalist Keith Flint, delivered a masterclass in controlled chaos that reaffirmed their title as the Godfathers of Rave.
As crimson lights bathed the Crane Stage in apocalyptic glow, Liam Howlett’s opening synth stabs of “Voodoo People” cut through the fog like a sonic blade.
“All my people in San Francisco! It’s your fucking time,” Maxim declared, his snarling authority unchanged since the band’s Essex, England origins.
For 60 relentless minutes, rave elders and first-timers alike reveled in the bombardment of sound. “The Writing’s on the Wall” showed Howlett’s breakbeat militancy in full effect, each drum pattern hitting like artillery fire while Rob Holliday’s guitar work added serrated edges.
The visuals matched the sonic intensity. Strobing blue lights during “No Good (Start the Dance)” and “Light Up the Sky” created hypnotic counterpoint to chaos, while a stray beach ball bouncing through the crowd provided an absurdly wholesome juxtaposition to the mayhem. “Everybody clap your hands!” Maxim commanded, and thousands responded in time with Leo Crabtree’s thunderous percussion.
Maxim showed his beatboxing was razor-sharp and stage presence undiminished.
“All the way from the fucking U.K., we don’t play. Is this San Francisco or what?” he announced; the statement landing less as bravado than as fact. This band consistently refused to soften edges, doubling down on breakbeat-plus-punk-menace that defined a generation.
The set balanced classic material with deeper cuts. “Poison” tapped The Prodigy’s trip-hop production roots, building tension before exploding into danceable chaos. Each track bled seamlessly into the next with the precision of DJs who understand crowd dynamics at a cellular level.
“It ain’t fucking over,” Maxim warned before launching into “Breathe.” He was right. As synthesizers swelled and breakbeats hammered home iconic rhythms, The Prodigy proved it hasn’t just survived the transition from ’90s big-beat stars to legacy act—it’s thrived.

Poster: