We came. We sweated. We rocked Zilker Park.

From Sabrina Carpenter's surprise special guests to T-Pain's booty-club get-down, we ranked the 10 best things we saw in six days of the Austin City Limits Music Festival.

Plus, it was all sunshine and sweet sounds -- we spill the overpriced beer on our eight worst ACL Fest experiences.

He opened with "You're Invited," swung his mic like a weapon, sipped, spat, dropped to the floor and rose again -- all while swapping between keys and soundboards. When his glasses fell off, the crowd cheered. When he said, "You look good," they screamed. It's indie sleaze 2.0 -- sure, some might say LCD Soundsystem, but the Dare is 2025 energy: dirty, sexy, self-aware chaos.

Somewhere between "Sex" and "I Can't Escape Myself," people began losing it. One person was even evacuated. The Dare didn't miss a beat. Literal mic drop. The epitome of "hot people dancing at 3 p.m."

-- Ana Gutierrez

Zilker Park looked more like Medellín when Feid hit the stage each Sunday. The crowd shimmered in yellow, blue and red sombreros vueltiaos -- some even dyed Feid's signature neon green. Colombia was loudly present. Everywhere you turned, someone was yelling "FERXXO!" (pronounced "fer-cho") or waving a flag.

On weekend one, I met Briana Levario and Tonny Trocha Morelos, who plays for the Colombian national basketball team. They told me about his roots and her first visits to Colombia, swapping notes on food, slang and why Colombian Spanish just sounds sexier. Another guy, Derek Puerta, spotted me with my flag, and somehow we ended up forming a mini Colombian block party. People were groseros -- loudmouthed, in the best way -- and totally lit.

Feid sprinted from one side of the stage to the other with wild breath control, rapping hits like "Perro Negro" (with Bad Bunny), "La Inocente" and "Hey Mor." Green flames shot up, sparkles rained down and a massive green face hovering above the stage grinned back at us. When he pointed at the moon, the crowd screamed "¡LUNA!" Honestly, same. Feid's set wasn't just a show; it was a love letter to Colombia. And everyone there knew the words.

-- A.G.

Rising country singer-songwriter Dylan Gossett could easily become the next Morgan Wallen. Born and raised in Austin, Gossett shares that hometown pedigree with Phillip Lupton and Truett Heintzelman, the saxophone-and-guitar duo behind the band Briscoe. Both Gossett and Briscoe have only been performing for about five years, yet they've already landed midday slots at Austin's biggest music festival -- a rare feat, since most local acts are relegated to sparsely attended morning performances. It feels like Austin is experiencing a new country revival, which is fitting given the city's deep roots in the genre through legends like Townes Van Zandt, Jerry Jeff Walker and Willie Nelson.

These groups lean a bit more rock and Americana, but for a taste of what the new wave of Austin's country-coded standouts sound like, check out Gossett's July 2025 release "Westward" and Briscoe's "Heat of July," which dropped on Sept. 19, 2025.

-- Mars Salazar

On weekend one, Cage the Elephant frontman Matt Shultz exploded onto the American Express stage like an atomic bomb, defying the Texas heat in a long-sleeve, chocolate-brown turtleneck. The band delivered a well-balanced setlist of new material and old favorites, all sung with Shultz's trademark conviction -- so intense it looked as if a blood vessel in his neck might burst at any moment. Beyond the manic charisma and onstage intensity that make him a perfect frontman, Shultz has songwriting chops in spades. What's remarkable is how steady he keeps his voice despite his dynamic stage presence.

And we can't overlook the importance of Brad Shultz, whose inventive guitar work mirrors his younger brother's intensity with perfectly executed, unconventional flourishes.

-- M.S.

Wet Leg has exploded in popularity since their 2022 ACL Fest debut, and singer Rhian Teasdale came out with her guns blazing. She flexed her toned biceps before launching into "Catch These Fists" from the band's July release "Moisturizer."

The other half of Wet Leg, Hester Chambers, who has spoken about struggles with social anxiety onstage, shredded guitar riffs with her back turned to the crowd for most of the set. They thundered through the hits early to treat fans with live versions of their newer songs.

On weekend one, Teasdale stole the show in a pink bikini top, silver ruffled hot pants, calf-high socks and sneakers with wings on the sides like Apollo. She wore silver Playboy bunny earrings, and a brace swaddled her left knee. Accompanied by Chambers' masterful guitar work, Teasdale has the dominance and unbridled sensuality to be the next Courtney Love. Let's watch them usher a new wave of "hardened femininity" into the mainstream pop landscape.

-- M.S.

"Tonight's the real rodeo," killers singer Brandon Flowers said weekend two. "How about a little rock and roll revival on a Sunday night?"

Weekend one, the Killers, a last minute headliner here because Doja Cat bailed, punched their ticket into our debut ACL Fest Hall of Fame. Their rock was crisp. They played two wonderful Willie Nelson covers.

This time their 20-year career retrospective went off louder. Weekend two, they opened with "Mr. Brightside" instead of closing it. They did Willie standard "Always On My Mind," but the Pet Shop Boys version.

And they played terrific more recent songs like their Phoebe Bridgers duet "Runaway Horses," proving that the great acts stay rolling downhill.

-- Ramon Ramirez

On Friday night, the duo didn't just take the Miller Lite stage during weekend two of ACL Fest -- they transcended it. The set unfolded like a glittering fever dream: lasers sliced through the Zilker air, sequins caught every stray beam. The crowd was so dense it melted into one giant organism, stretching toward the larger stage where Hozier would close the night.

The Australian act has always thrived on visual theater, but something about this stop -- the final night of their North American tour -- felt especially charged.

Backstage, Steele told us the red kimono he wore -- handpicked from a Seattle collector who sources them in Kyoto -- was more than just flair. "Red has been the color for this tour," he said. "It's a battle color. Fire. We're in a time of battle -- physical and spiritual. So the red is coming out, and we're taking on the dark side."

-- A.G.

"I learned my [expletive] lesson this time," hip-hop star T-Pain told the American Express stage Sunday at ACL.

It sure seemed like he took scissors to his leather pants from weekend one and made shorts. He talked about being washed during his nostalgia-tinted greatest hits overview. His knees were bad, he said, now that he was "a week older."

And yet he gave and gave, delivering the most well-received set of ACL Fest. He performed covers and several choreographed dances. At first, his cowboy-coded show felt like overkill. I didn't love that the rap star felt like he needed to wear a cowboy hat and cover Journey in order to fit in at ACL. His onstage saloon and horse props were giving Carnival Cruise.

Then he performed his multitude of Dirty Sixth dance classics and turned Zilker into an uncomfortably freaky prom night.

In the end unc gave us rules to live by. "If you're gonna try sometning new just take one half and wait an hour," he added at the end. Truer words.

-- R.R.

The moment the opening notes of "Cyclone" blasted from the American Express stage speakers, I knew seeing T-Pain for the first time would be a spiritual experience. It's the kind of show that by song number two on the setlist ("2 Step") I lamented that the poor Zilker cell service kept me from texting my long-distance best friend from high school to tell her I wished she was there to reminisce (and dance) with me.

Nostalgia plays aren't always winners, though -- the "Don't Stop Believin'" cover felt a little overly millennial cringe, but maybe those in the crowd who didn't have this song in the final three options to be your literal high school graduation song felt differently. They sang along, at least.

And in case you forgot that T-Pain can actually sing, his cover of "Tennessee Whiskey" did the trick. But right after that song, calls of "Nappy Boyyyyyyy" brought us back to the hits we all showed up for. You forget how many T-Pain verses you know until you're at a T-Pain show: his appearances in Rick Ross' "The Boss," Jamie Foxx's "Blame It" and Pitbull's "Hey Baby" elicited delighted gasps as the sun set over Zilker. It felt more like a club than a dusty park.

But nobody was having more fun than T-Pain himself. He joked about his age. He did a Naruto run with a backup dancer during "Blame It." He ended with The Lonely Island's "I'm on a Boat," a decision that felt confounding in the moment but, in hindsight, made a lot of sense for a guy dealing in nostalgia these days. I'm here for the T-Pain renaissance, fueled primarily by TikTok but earned nonetheless. As my colleague and friend wrote, give him a Super Bowl show.

-- Katey Psencik

On weekend one, hype surrounded the possibility of a Taylor Swift appearance. Instead, Shania Twain showed up. The pop star and the country diva launched into "That Don't Impress Me Much," and just like that, Sabrina Carpenter turned surprise into supremacy. It wasn't Taylor's era anymore -- it was hers.

On weekend two, she went full Texas with her country cameo, bringing out the Chicks for a collaboration on "Wide Open Spaces."

The biggest star of ACL Fest 2025 shed the sparkles of her "Short n' Sweet" era. In their place: cowgirl curls and gingham print. She cracked jokes -- "Everything's bigger in Texas" -- line danced through "Manchild" and made fans scream back the words to "Good Graces." Around her, girls gasped over texts and breakups. It was Sabrina's world, in real time. It was pure confidence -- "Nonsense," "Feather," a steamy "Bed Chem" remix of Ginuwine's "Pony."

A cheeky shoutout to Djo, Joe Keery, in the crowd weekend one set off a flurry of dating rumors that intensified when Carpenter showed up at Keery's ACL Live set. By the time "Espresso" closed each Saturday night -- fireworks, lights and thousands singing every word -- Sabrina Carpenter had done what few at ACL could: turned a festival set into a main character moment. The year's biggest pop star didn't just headline the weekend. She owned it.

-- Ana Gutierrez with Julianna Russ

Before the music even started, Doechii drew an eager roar from the audience simply by saying her name into the mic. That energy never wavered, and each weekend, the crowd howled as if watching a lion devour a warrior in the Roman Colosseum with every booty shake. Doechii -- also known as Jaylah Ji'mya Hickmon -- has mastered her flow. She clearly understands and appreciates the power of the smooth, intentional rhymes she wielded onstage as she puppeteered the mass of concertgoers with a wag of her gold-braceleted wrist.

She commanded the crowd to scream "Alter Ego" to usher in the 2024 song she recorded with Justin Timberlake. As the song built to peak on weekend one, Doechii leaned backwards, as if about to do a backbend. She paused upside down to soak in every moment that the experience offered: thousands of screaming fans surrounding her on ACL Fest's coveted American Express stage.

With only a DJ accompanying her, the rapper's control of rhythm, presence and audience was all-encompassing. Both weekends we were hers. Completely.

-- Mars Salazar

Honestly we should just start ACL Fest at 7pm. It's crisp, it's in the 60s, there's still that summer warmth in the night. Maybe the NIMBYs would never let us, but I think we should talk about it as a group.

-- R.R.

In this world nothing can be said to be certain, except death, taxes and dust clouds at ACL. That's what Benjamin Franklin said, right? The dust is always brutal at the fest -- bandanas aren't just a fashion accessory, they're a necessity to keep the fest flu at bay. But there's no surefire way to avoid the black lung at the festival, and as I type this the morning after weekend two, my chest feels like I chain-smoked cigarettes at a dive bar all night. It's the price you pay for a good time, but my fellow festgoers and I will be blowing black boogers for days. BRB, gotta go DoorDash some nasal rinse.

-- K.P.

After a 10-minute DJ hype session, the meme rapper came out wearing a plastic hockey mask. The crowd spilled far back from the stage -- all the way to the center-field flags. Skrilla started with his song "GOD DAMN," whose lyrics are so unprintable they can't even be paraphrased for these pages. He barely sang at all, letting the backing track do 99% of the work for the entire performance. My wager? He said fewer than 50 total words into the microphone.

When the moment finally came for his viral track, "Doot Doot," Skrilla barely sang the song that made him semi-relevant. As his crowd thinned out, parents nervously hovered on the outskirts making sure their kids stayed safe in the pit.

The kids went crazy when the chorus hit: a riff on the "baby shark doo doo doo doo" meme that went viral in 2018. That makes "Doot Doot" the pinnacle of post-irony -- a slow-roasted meta-meme -- but that might be giving Skrilla too much credit.

"This my last song," he said. With 30 minutes left in his set -- Skrilla cut the music. An awkward encore did nothing to redeem the weekend's worst flop.

-- M.S.

On weekend one of the festival, frontman Julian Casablancas stumbled through songs with no intentionality. The band seemed shaky at times. They couldn't make up for Casablancas' obvious lack of enthusiasm. At times he turned his back to the crowd, paused to adjust his sunglasses mid-lyric or wandered across the stage like he was looking for the exit.

In the moments between songs when performers often address the crowd, share stories or extend thanks to fans, Casablancas said nothing. He did occasionally drone indiscernible and random thoughts into the mic. It felt less like a concert and more like a band fulfilling a contract. Casablancas even joked about how "upper management" controls what the band does.

"We don't choose the songs. They take us out of our cryogenic chambers. Back to our cyber crypt after this," he said. His bitter, deadpan delivery did not feel like a joke..

"You Talk Way Too Much" was sloppy, off-tempo and half-hearted. "Last Nite," their biggest hit, was treated like a burden. Casablancas mumbled through most of it, paused mid-chorus to talk about fireworks, and spoiled their fake encore before even walking offstage.

-- M.S.

The millennial indie pop band is undergoing a corporate restructuring, debuting a new iteration of the band this month. And so early reviews have critiqued Passion Pit for restarting songs amid blunders and coming out of the gate tentative. But at ACL they were fine, it's the crowd that we quibble with. Turns out this band, which peaked in popularity in 2012, is still way too big to be on the Tito's stage. And so jampacked fans had to stand near porta potties to watch.

-- R.R.

When Doja Cat dropped out as Sunday's headliner, it felt like a collective let down. The internet spiraled, fans threatened to resell their wristbands, and honestly? Fair. It's not the first time Doja's dipped on fans. She's built a reputation for being unpredictable. She said she was pulling out to finish her new album, "Vie," but that didn't make the sting any softer. The real gag? ACL replaced one of the few female rap headliners with an all-male rock band from an entirely different universe. No shade to The Killers -- "Mr. Brightside" will always make a crowd feral -- it just felt mismatched.

-- A.G.

Empire of the Sun versus. Cage the Elephant. T-Pain versus Passion Pit versus Feid. The Strokes versus Sabrina Carpenter. Wet Leg versus Rainbow Kitten Surprise. Luke Combs versus Hozier. Must-see acts performing at the same time is a perpetual thorn in the side of festivalgoers. You have to do this to safely distribute 80,000 humans across one park, and there are time constraints. But in 2025 there were some heartbreaking concurrents.

-- R.R.

Women dressed to the nines and with intention and fashion in mind. Men, I get that you're not gonna go to the flag poles and take cute pics, but we also don't have to dress like you're going camping. This is a festival, you aren't leading Cub Scouts into the wildernes s -- drop the survivalist garb and have some fun.

The best and worst of ACL Fest 2025: T-Pain, The Strokes and more