Fara Francis The 2025 Outside Festival, held at Civic Center Park on May 31–June 1, delivered on its promise of music, adventure, and community despite a few weather hiccups. Headliners Khruangbin and Lord Huron captivated the crowd with soulful, cinematic performances under Denver’s iconic courthouse backdrop. Festival-goers praised the eclectic lineup—from the funk-psychedelia of Neal Francis to Sylvan Esso’s ethereal charm, Waxahatchee’s heartfelt indie folk, and Trampled by Turtles’ muddy bluegrass revival after a storm delay. Rising talents like Husbands and Hazlett added depth to the weekend’s vibe, while local acts Squeaky Feet, The Copper Children, Brothers of Brass, and Cole Scheifele made the lineup feel perfectly rooted in Colorado’s vibrant music scene.
DAY 1
In its second year, Outside Festival took over Denver’s iconic Civic Center Park for a two-day event that was about more than just music—it was about being present, getting outdoors, and cultivating connection. The weekend wove together wellness, community, and the power of nature into a meaningful mosaic. Guitar solos bled into orange and blue sunsets, politics weren’t left at the gate, and even a severe storm delay couldn’t rain on the parade. More than just great performances, Outside Festival 2025 celebrated the importance of reconnection—not only with nature, but with ourselves and each other.
Civic Center Park proved to be the perfect venue: accessible, spacious (a must when you’re expecting over 30,000 attendees!), and scenic. The Capitol building framed the entrance, creating an iconic photo op upon arrival. Thoughtful details like hydration and sunscreen stations, along with earplug dispensers, weren’t flashy, but showed a quiet care that didn’t go unnoticed—reminding festivalgoers to take care of themselves. As crowds filtered in, the weekend kicked off with two full days of live music, film screenings, speaker panels, and more—bursting to life with a sound that was loud, lively, and unmistakably Denver.
The festival opened with local street band Brothers of Brass taking the REI Co-op mainstage. Known for their New Orleans flair and high-energy performances—not to mention their ongoing community work through the Black Brass Initiative—they set the tone with surprise pop-ups all weekend long. Spot secured, shoes off, and my new Outside Festival blanket laid out, I settled in as Squeaky Feet launched into their set with “Chance to Grow.” From psychedelic guitar solos to playful percussion, they quickly transformed the lawn into a dance floor. What looked like dried peppers (and possibly seashells?) on drummer Kevin D’Angelo’s cymbals added extra texture to their already eclectic sound. They closed with “Little Bit Further”—a sendoff that felt like an open invitation to explore everything else the festival had to offer.
The festival grounds felt alive: attendees scaling The North Face climbing walls, families escaping the heat at shaded picnic tables, toddlers dancing in oversized headphones. I wandered between vendor tents until I found myself drawn into the Sunny Life Hats booth, pulled in by earthy tones and an irresistible charm. A kind-eyed staffer leaned in with a warm, intentional energy and asked, “Can I make a recommendation for you?” I said yes before I even realized it—something in her quiet confidence told me she’d get it right. She studied me for a beat, then lit up, turning to reveal a neutral swirl design that perfectly matched my outfit. “May I crown you?” she asked, a moment that felt both cheeky and oddly magical. I was sold.
Re-energized, I followed the smoky scent that had been teasing me since arrival and ended up at the Mississippi Boy Catfish and Ribs truck. I grabbed a sandwich piled high with tender brisket and a side of seasoned fries. With handcrafted hemp on my head (ethically sourced in Nepal!) and soul food in hand, I set off in search of the Tailgate Sessions hosted by Scout Motors.
Photos by Tessa Brancato. All images © 2025 Copyright Tessa Brancato. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
Showcasing local musicians in an intimate, campfire-style setup, the Tailgate Sessions at Outside Festival were a standout moment of the weekend. I parked myself in the grass, ready to savor both my food and the music. Heavy Diamond Ring brought a gentle kind of magic, their harmonies flowing effortlessly. The duo (typically part of a five-piece band) performed their latest release, “Where You Gonna Run To,” from their latest album Wildflower Lane, released June 13, 2025. Glancing at the time, I made a mental note to catch their album release party later this month—June 21 at Little Bear Saloon in Evergreen!
I gathered my things and hustled back toward the main stage just in time to catch Husbands lighting things up. The Oklahoma City duo’s blend of surf-rock and indie hooks felt like the perfect afternoon soundtrack. With upbeat favorites like “Must Be a Cop” and newer tracks including “Santa Ana” and “Nameless One,” they rolled seamlessly through their set. By then, the park was starting to fill quickly. New arrivals streamed in, and I tucked into my spot, content to stay put until Neal Francis took the stage.
As the sun began to dip behind the Rockies, Neal Francis filled the venue with vintage soul. “She’s a Winner” echoed off the surrounding buildings, casting a trance-like spell over the crowd. It was the kind of set that invited you to breathe, be still, and just be in the moment. I was vibing—but as the space grew tighter, shoulder to shoulder, my anxiety nudged me. I slipped out in search of some breathing room and found a cozy spot near the back, with a perfect view of the screens that still kept me connected to the action.
Bathed in golden hour light, Amelia Meath of Sylvan Esso emerged in a striking red ensemble. Whimsical in appearance, her look stood in stark contrast to her powerful message. In one of the weekend’s most unapologetic moments, she addressed the crowd with a raw honesty others hadn’t dared. Speaking plainly about the U.S.’s slide toward fascism and the ongoing genocide in Palestine, she acknowledged how tempting it is to emotionally check out. “It’s easy to not want to feel,” she admitted, before introducing her song “Numb”—not just as a track, but as what she called a “magical spell, a way to remember how to feel.” Even in that vulnerable moment, Sylvan Esso’s set held a kind of joyful rebellion. Amelia’s presence was electric and thought-provoking. As the last light shimmered on her silhouette, she stepped to the mic one final time and closed with: “Take care of each other. Free Palestine.” The crowd erupted—not just in applause, but in something that felt like solidarity.
The break between sets offered festivalgoers a chance to reset: stretch their legs, grab a drink, or make one last bathroom run. The air had cooled, and twilight crept over Civic Center Park. The clock tower glowed in soft oranges and moody blues, echoing the tones of the Colorado sunset. Then—suddenly—a thunderous downbeat. Khruangbin had arrived.
Their entrance was breath-stealing; the crowd gasped and cheered as the opening notes of “Juegos y Nubes” began to swirl. From there, the evening flowed like a dream. The band delivered an impressive set, weaving through fan favorites like “August 10,” “Time (You and I),” “Lady and Man,” and “Pelota.” Soothing, psychedelic, and strangely grounding, their performance moved like a current. While the lighting displays were mesmerizing, it was Laura Lee’s magnetic presence that truly lit up the stage. Bold, elegant, and effortlessly cool, she held quiet command, her iconic fit and silent charisma keeping all eyes on her.
They closed with “White Gloves,” a serene lullaby that felt like a soft exhale at the end of a long, beautiful day. The lawn stayed still for a beat, everyone soaking in the last lingering notes before slowly unraveling toward the exits. People wandered off in every direction—barefoot, sun-kissed, and quietly reeling from a full day of music, connection, and just the right amount of chaos. Even as the crowd dispersed, a buzz lingered in the air. Anticipation was already building for Day 2.
Photos by Tessa Brancato. All images © 2025 Copyright Tessa Brancato. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
Day 2
As Day 2 of Outside Festival rolled in, so did the clouds. Puddles from a quick morning storm glistened on the pavement—a subtle foreshadowing for what was to come. The sun peeked through scattered clouds as I made my way back to Civic Center Park, this time with my mom in tow. I’d hyped up the festival so much that she decided to tag along—partly to see what all the fuss was about, but mostly because she just had to have one of those hats. Coffee in one hand, festival blanket in the other, we wandered through the grounds, ready for an epic lineup. The crowd felt quieter, the energy a little softer—everyone slowly easing into the afternoon.
With the scent of dew-kissed grass still lingering, we laid out our blankets just as Cole Scheifele’s voice welcomed us back. He stepped onto the stage with a blend of nerves and gratitude that felt instantly familiar. He thanked the crowd humbly, sharing that he still works a day job and how much it meant to be part of this year’s Outside Festival. Songs like “Poems” and “In Case You Never Come Around” (his newest release from an upcoming EP!) carried soaring high notes filled with ache and honesty, like he was letting us in on a small piece of his story. As his final notes faded, the energy began to shift, giving way to the earthy tones of The Copper Children—and just like that, Day 2 found its rhythm.
Hailing from Denver, The Copper Children have carved out a loyal following through their unique blend of funk fusion and rootsy folk. Their sound is so singular, it’s hard to describe—imagine if Motown met mushrooms in the woods, and you’re close. With past appearances at Summer Camp and Arise Festival, they’ve earned a reputation as both musicians and mood-shapers, turning every set into a layered journey of spiritual undertones and introspective harmonies. Fans left the REI Co-op Mainstage smiling and sun-dappled.
With time between sets, we took it as our cue to reset and explore. There was only one item on our agenda—get the hat. My mom made a beeline for the Sunny Life Hats stand, where we were greeted by the same staffer who’d helped me the day before. In a sweet full-circle moment, she crowned my mom with a cute green number—the perfect pick. Hat secured and festival spirit fully activated, we went in search of something warm, greasy, and satisfying: pizza. We grabbed a couple slices from Rocky Mountain Slices (classic festival fuel!) and followed the music like a trail. The soft hum of a guitar warming up in the distance led us to the Tailgate Sessions.
Tucked into a quieter corner of the park, the sessions felt like a well-kept secret. We slipped into a shady spot just in time to catch a glimpse of The Mañanas. We didn’t have long before the next set, but lingered just enough to catch “Lightheaded Waves” from their album 3000. Dreamy and transportive, the track wrapped the crowd in a beachy nostalgia—the kind of song that tricks you into thinking you’re oceanside, not nestled in a mountain city under thickening clouds. Their coastal vibes were the perfect midday reset. I couldn’t help but wonder what new music they’re working on—but with Hazlett up next and the weather turning, it was time to move on.
As the sky shifted to a moody gray and storm clouds began to gather behind the Civic Center clock tower, we claimed a spot in the grass. With pizza in hand and eyes on the stage, I felt a rush of excitement—Hazlett’s set was one I’d been anticipating all weekend. A strange stillness settled over the crowd as he stepped out, the storm seemingly waiting in the wings, patient and poised. He opened with “Please Don’t Be,” his voice raw and emotional—a hauntingly beautiful beginning. He moved through tracks like “Doing My Best” and “Shiver” with quiet intensity, as if he wasn’t just performing alongside the storm, but pulling its strings.
“Blame the Moon” hit the deepest for me. It wasn’t just a beautiful song—it was personal, unnervingly so. There was something cinematic in his delivery, his voice tender and imperfect in a way that felt achingly human. As he closed with “Blue Jean,” the tension in the air reached its peak. The storm was ready.
Before the final note had even settled, the screens lit up:
SEVERE STORM WARNING — PLEASE CALMLY EXIT THE VENUE.
The timing was uncanny.
Photos by Tessa Brancato. All images © 2025 Copyright Tessa Brancato. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
The clouds had been warning us all day, but no one expected the sky to open with such conviction. What started as a few light drops quickly turned into a torrential downpour, sending festivalgoers scattering in search of cover. Thunder rolled like a war drum—blankets became makeshift capes, wet denim swished, and bare feet slapped against concrete as we made a mad dash toward the exits. The storm hit with such force that a gust nearly swept us sideways, forcing us to scramble into the carved alcoves of the Capitol building. Water dripped from our noses as we huddled under the stone overhang, watching the relentless rain and hoping for a break that never came. Eventually, we exchanged looks that said, “Screw it!” and made a break for the car. Soaked and shivering, we couldn’t help but laugh—the kind of laughter that only comes when everything is a mess but somehow still magical. With clouds still churning and the festival’s reopening uncertain, my mom waved the white flag. We retreated home to reset, dry off, and wait for word. After a quick change and a goodbye hug, I headed back—wondering if the music would return, but not ready to miss it if it did.
On the way back, I got the all-clear. The sky lightened, and the rain eased. By the time I returned to Civic Center Park, the event staff had pulled off a small miracle. The crowd flowed back in like the tide—damp but joyful, leaning into the shared experience. I caught the second half of Waxahatchee’s set. Listening to “Lilacs” bloom into “Fire,” I felt that quiet kind of resilience—a gentle reminder that music and open skies can bring you back to yourself after a storm.
I spotted a few friends weaving between vendor booths, proudly showing off their festival finds—tote bags, stickers, and even the occasional hat. They’d turned free merch into a playful game: how much could you collect before the next set? With our loot secured, we followed the flow back to the stage just as Trampled by Turtles geared up to deliver their high-energy, soul-tugging sound. With each burst of fiddle and banjo, the crowd churned the muddy ground beneath them, turning the lawn into a patchwork of stomps and smiles. The grass was long gone, replaced by mud-splattered boots and laughter—the perfect backdrop for Trampled by Turtles’ fast, fiery bluegrass. Their version of “Where Is My Mind?” added gritty elegance to an already rowdy, heartfelt set. As echoes faded into the humid air, the field quieted, and the sky darkened—just in time for the moody, melodic folk noir of the final act.
As twilight settled over the Capitol lawn, Robin Thurston (CEO of Outside) stepped up to thank the crowd—not just for weathering the rain, but for choosing to be present, outside, and together. He spoke briefly about the importance of unplugging, getting messy, and letting the outdoors remind us what matters. With genuine excitement, he introduced the night’s headliner, Lord Huron.
From the very first note, the band wove a spell—their set unfolding like a folk tale spun in moonlight. Each song flowed into the next, layering a little more magic. The set opened with “Meet Me in the Woods,” a slow swirl of reverb and longing that set the tone for what followed—“Dead Man’s Hand,” “Mine Forever,” and “Ends of the Earth,” each blossoming with cinematic depth. Track by track, they built to the inevitable—the song that had hearts on standby all night. “The Night We Met” sent a ripple across the lawn. This was the moment everyone had waited for, and when it came, people didn’t cheer—they swayed, they sang, entranced. When the music stopped, the silence felt sacred, but it didn’t last long as fans urged the band back for one more.
Lord Huron delivered, returning for a triple encore that felt less about spectacle and more about gratitude. A soft glow from the Capitol lit the way out as some lingered a moment longer, reluctant to leave the weekend behind. Outside Festival brought bangers and belly laughs—and you better believe we’ll be first in line to do it all again next year. Same time, same lawn?
Photos by Tessa Brancato. All images © 2025 Copyright Tessa Brancato. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
Interested in purchasing photos from this coverage?
All coverage content belongs to the party covering the festival and requires payment for use. If you want to use any of these photos, contact us, and we’ll connect you with the right person.
Struggling with Post Concert Depression?
Read our tips!
Get new content delivered directly to your inbox.
