Sónar Lisboa 2025: A Pocket-Sized Paradise (with a side of Heineken)

Weather & Setting: Embracing the Unpredictable

Lisbon’s spring weather performed its usual capricious dance; brilliant sunshine giving way to winds with the occasional drizzle thrown in for dramatic effect. But unlike previous years, where this meant soggy treks across the city, the festival’s consolidation into a single venue turned meteorological roulette into part of the charm. Indoor spaces offered sanctuary when needed, while the outdoor stages during those precious moments when the clouds took a rest – delivered the kind of communal euphoria that only comes from dancing under an semi-open sky while secretly wondering if your kicks will survive the mud.

Local Heroes, Global Icons and Ageless Legends

The 2025 lineup delivered Sónar’s trademark blend of “Who’s that?” and “They’re here?!” 43 acts spanning everything from teeth-rattling techno to the kind of experimental sounds that make your parents worry about you.

Speaking of legends, Underworld delivered a performance that can only be described as transcendent – a masterclass in how to remain relevant after four decades in the game. Opening with the timeless “Two Months Off,” they set the blueprint from the off, establishing a perfect tension between nostalgia and innovation that would define the entire set. “Denver Luna,” their new classic anthem in waiting, proved that their creative well remains far from dry – anyone who can create records like that and turn them into arena-filling belters at this age really deserves to be endlessly celebrated.

At 67, Karl Hyde and Rick Smith moved across the stage with the energy of men half their age, Hyde’s hypnotic movements still as mesmerising as they were in the ’90s.

Their set built with the architectural precision that has become their signature, each track flowing seamlessly into the next, creating a journey (yup I said it) rather than just a back catalogue of belters. When “Born Slippy” finally dropped (never been my favourite track of theirs, there you go, I’ve said that too), the multigenerational crowd experienced what can only be described as collective rapture – proof that some anthems truly are timeless. Underworld remain a testament to the fact that electronic music isn’t just about youth; it’s about the perpetual now, the endless moment of possibility that a perfect beat creates. Also… seeing them at 6pm on a Saturday in a dark room was a masterstroke of programming. The energy still pumping from the daylight outside and the mind and body taking a pounding before dinner’s even on the horizon.

Other heavyweights like Richie Hawtin and Marcel Dettmann somehow felt more accessible in this condensed setting, delivering performances that were stadium-worthy but with the intimacy of a club night.

Sunday’s addition of Jeff Mills was theoretically a coup—the Detroit techno pioneer being the equivalent of having Mozart drop by your piano recital – but the scheduling gods were less kind. After a day of standing, dancing, and the inevitable festival fatigue, the late-night wait for Mills stretched from anticipation to an endurance test. By the time the wizard arrived to take us on his promised interstellar journey, many were running on cosmic fumes, our mortal bodies betraying our willing spirits. The music was masterful, as always, but sometimes even the most perfectly calibrated spaceship can’t launch if the crew is already half-asleep.

Local talent wasn’t just given a token nod but placed centre stage this time around, with collectives like Enchufada, Dengo Club, and Príncipe x TraTraTrax showcasing why Lisbon sits at the intersection of global club cultures right now. DJ Firmeza, Pedro da Linha, and Rita Vian reminded everyone that sometimes the most exciting sounds are coming from just around the corner. Well done to the Sonar programmers – this demonstrates that massive out-of-town headliners aren’t the only way to create a compelling dancefloor experience.

Experience: Refined and Relieved

Compared to the sprawling 2022 edition, which sometimes felt like a treasure hunt requiring GPS and emergency  plasters, this year’s Sónar was a revelation in streamlined festival-ing. No more midnight scooter dashes between venues, no more missing acts because you were busy climbing what felt like Everest. Everything was wonderfully proximate, creating a rare festival phenomenon: you could actually see the artists you planned to see, rather than merely hearing distant basslines while stuck in an entrance queue.

The Crowd: A Refreshing Demographic Cocktail

Perhaps the most beautiful surprise was the gloriously varied tapestry of ages on display, a welcome antidote to the youth-obsessed monoculture that plagues so many electronic music events. Here, fresh-faced Gen Zers with impossible haircuts and enviable energy levels shared dance floors with silver-foxed veterans who’ve been raving since before USBs replaced that thing vinyl. Middle-aged couples who clearly arranged childcare months in advance rubbed shoulders with twenty-somethings still figuring out their festival strategy.

The beautiful thing? Not a hint of the generational awkwardness that typically accompanies such mixing. No one seemed to be thinking “Am I too old for this?” or “Shouldn’t they be in bed by now?”, just a collective understanding that good music transcends birthdays. The 50-something woman in sensible shoes but impeccable rhythm had as much right to front-row euphoria as the youngster in platform boots documenting every moment. It was electronic music’s version of a multigenerational family dinner, except with better music and more acceptable shouting.

The crowd – a cocktail of locals, tourists who definitely mentioned how cheap the wine is out on the street (it’s €4.50 for a half pint of lager inside, more to come on that later), and Sónar veterans identifiable by their all-black attire—seemed to appreciate this new rhythm. There was less frantic FOMO and more actual enjoyment.

In Barcelona, Sónar+D keeps pulling in the crowd that likes their techno with a PhD on the side. The beauty of a TED Talk style chaser, post pounding techno is what keeps me, for one, going back to the Spanish edition. But in Lisboa,  there just wasn’t enough of it. The intellectual buffet still felt a bit like a secret pop-up—blink and you’ll miss it, tucked away for a few precious hours by the park lake on Friday afternoon.

Don’t get me wrong, the talks were great – brain food and existential crisis – but the whole thing left us wanting more. Sónar, you could definitely try a bit harder here. Imagine if the festival sprinkled that +D magic everywhere: interactive installations glowing next to the main stage, spontaneous debates popping up in the queue for overpriced falafel, or sunrise workshops for those still running on caffeine and questionable life choices. Who wouldn’t want to ponder the ethics of AI while nursing a hangover to get their synapses firing before noon?

By letting the Sónar+D spirit run wild – across more hours, more spaces, and more unsuspecting festival-goers – Sónar could double down on what makes it special: being the only place where you can lose yourself to Arca, then accidentally learn about quantum computing from someone. More +D, less FOMO. Next year, let’s see Sónar really go full-on collision of music, tech, and big ideas, because, frankly, the future isn’t going to imagine itself…. especially given how bleak it’s looking right now.

The Elephant (or Rather, the Green Bottle) in the Room

One couldn’t help but notice that if Heineken were any more present at the festival, they’d have renamed it “Sónar Lisboa, Brought to You by That Beer You Settle For When There’s Nothing Else.” The green branding achieved a level of omnipresence that bordered on the metaphysical – as if the festival existed within a Heineken dimension where every sightline inevitably led to their logo.

While corporate sponsorship is the necessary evil that keeps ticket prices from reaching astronomical levels, this particular partnership felt less like a marriage of convenience and more like that roommate who puts their name on everything in the shared fridge.

Reflections

Sónar Lisboa 2025 feels like a festival that has finally stopped asking for directions. The move to a single, central venue was the smartest decision, making the experience accessible without sacrificing ambition. The weather added just enough drama to create stories worth telling, the programming struck that delicate balance between “I know this!” and “I should pretend I know this,” and the overall vibe was one of discovery without exhaustion.

If 2022 was Sónar Lisboa’s awkward adolescence, 2025 marks its coming of age – a confident, focused celebration that honours both global currents and local tributaries. It’s become a destination in its own right, proof that sometimes smaller is indeed better (just don’t tell that to the Heineken marketing team, who clearly believe bigger is always best).