Portugal. The Man at First Avenue (November 21, 2025)

Portugal. The Man rolled into Minneapolis Friday, but before they played a note, the stage itself was a statement. A giant LED screen announced the tour’s theme — a tongue-in-cheek sermon about touching the bark of a tree, telling people you love them, and getting off your screens by making and enjoying music. Ironic, I guess, that the screen behind them would become the single brightest object in a five-block radius. But it set the tone: this band wants you back in your body for two hours, and they’re going to overload your senses to get you there.

Before that came La Luz, all swaying guitars, alien surf scales, and haunted vocal stacks. They’re pros, full stop — one of the most enjoyable bands to play the Turf Club last year, and they brought the same velvet-and-sunburst magic here. A surprise opener, Native rapper Tall Paul, rounded out a three-act sequence that felt a little more like a festival sampler than a typical club bill.

Portugal. The Man opened with the new record, Shish — mostly in sequence — and hit the room like a sudden weather shift. “Denali,” “Pittman Ralliers,” “Tyonek” all feel punky, breathless, and huge live. PTM may be free-thinking, jam-oriented, and a little disorganized, but they were more intense than I expected. They never looked tired, not for a moment, even after that opening sprint.

The video wall behind them cycled through acid-washed music-video visualizations, anime battles, old monster-movie clips, and unsettling Claymation. It fit their psychedelic lineage perfectly: chaotic, referential, funny, and occasionally unnerving. Everyone onstage wore black — athleisure or workwear — which only heightened the contrast with the roar of color behind them.

Their older songs landed exactly as hoped: “Got It All” and “Head Is a Flame” were room-shaking highlights, and tracks like “Senseless” and “So Young” felt more emotionally anchored against the surreal visuals. (I hope the guy wearing a “Feel It Still” shirt wasn’t too disappointed with the band skipping their 2017 Billboard smash — it might truly not have fit the night’s vibe.) Meanwhile, the lyrical and merch-table politics (anti-racist, pro-community, “support your local crews and workers”) underlined a human element to the trippy presentation, delivered without self-importance.

I felt like I spent the night working — three songs in the pit, then wandering for vantage points — and I suppose I orbited the crowd’s emotional center of gravity more than I was pulled into it. But many, many times, the driving beats and twisting melodies pulled a smile out of me anyway. Portugal. The Man didn’t convert me into someone wearing the hoodie on the way out, but they absolutely surprised me with how good, weird, and intensely alive they are onstage.