Union Transfer is one of those venues that people romanticize as “intimate,” but really it’s just small—very small. The kind of place where the floor sells out in three minutes, the balcony in one, and the resale market becomes a battlefield. Portugal. The Man hasn’t played a room that tiny in ages, so the scramble for tickets in December felt like some kind of indie-rock Super Bowl. Fans were frantic, browsers froze, group chats erupted, and for a moment it seemed like this was going to be the must-see gig of the winter.
And then the band actually took the stage.
What unfolded across three acts was not the triumphant return to form some fans seemed to expect but a muddled, uneven, visually unintelligible evening that never found its footing. Portugal. The Man once had a reputation for being a quirky, psychedelic, genre-bending pop/rock band with real energy—songs that buzzed, grooves that grabbed you, arrangements that felt alive. But in 2025, after a full lineup overhaul that left John Gourley as the lone original member, the group that walked onto the Union Transfer stage felt more like an experimental art-school collective trying too hard to be weird rather than good.
And unfortunately, they weren’t very good.
A Stage You Couldn’t See and a Sound You Didn’t Want To
Let’s start with the lighting—or more accurately, the refusal to use it. For reasons unknown, the entire show unfolded in near-darkness, save for the random bursts of abstract video that flickered behind the band like screensavers left on by accident. You didn’t watch Portugal. The Man so much as squint at their silhouettes, the musicians barely visible as they drifted around the stage like uninspired shadows. There was no sense of presence, no connection, no moment where the crowd could actually see the people they paid so much to get into a room with.
And maybe that wouldn’t have mattered if the music had been sharp, tight, or even recognizable. But the set leaned heavily on material from the new album Shish, which, to be blunt, is not good. Where the band once blended pop, rock, funk, and psychedelic flourishes into something vibrant, Shish feels like a collection of avant-garde leftovers—the kind of album you’d expect from a side project where the artist insists “you just don’t get it” when nobody wants to listen. Live, these songs didn’t transform or grow or evolve—they just sprawled, meandered, and sputtered across the room with no urgency and little to latch onto.
Crowd energy sagged almost immediately.
Act 1: A Slow Start That Never Recovered
The band opened with a block of new material, and it was… a choice. “Denali,” “Pittman Ralliers,” and “Angoon” all had the same shapeless, murky sonic palette that defines Shish, and in a dark room where you could barely see the band, the songs blended together into a vague, muddy blur. “Knik” lifted things only slightly before “Shish” and “Mush” reminded everyone why the album hasn’t exactly sparked a wave of glowing reviews.
By the time “Tyonek” and “Kokhanockers” wrapped up Act 1, the mood in the room felt subdued. Not hostile—just disappointed. People wanted to be excited, but the music didn’t meet them halfway.
Act 2: A Reminder of the Band They Used to Be… Sort Of
Act 2 brought in more familiar material, and at least gave the night some recognizable landmarks. “Got It All (This Can’t Be Living Now)” and “Head Is a Flame (Cool With It)” briefly jolted some energy back into the room. Yet even the older songs felt slightly off, performed by a band that no longer has the chemistry or identity that once made them special.
“Senseless,” “V.I.S.,” and “Modern Jesus” were fine—not great, not terrible, just fine. “Creep in a T-Shirt” and “What, Me Worry?” fared better, but even these crowd-favorites couldn’t overcome the show’s overarching problems. By then, the lack of lighting was becoming a running joke; more than a few people seemed to be craning around, trying to figure out if maybe, just maybe, a spotlight might turn on at some point.
It didn’t.
The NEIKED cover “Glide,” performed here for reasons unknown, didn’t add much. “Live in the Moment,” normally a guaranteed lift-the-room track, came and went without ever feeling like a peak. “Tidal Wave,” “So Young,” and “Noise Pollution” closed out Act 2 on a note that felt more dutiful than inspired.
Act 3: A Strange Ending to a Strange Night
Act 3 was short and abrupt. “Tanana” and “Father Gun” continued the trend of uneven performances—neither terrible nor memorable. The final surprise of the night was a cover of Rage Against the Machine’s “Killing in the Name,” joined by the Philly brass-band darlings SNACKTIME. This could have been a moment—something wild, something unexpected, something alive.
Instead, it felt like a half-baked novelty. The brass section added color, but the arrangement lacked bite, and the emotion felt thin. It was an ending that summed up the entire night: ambitious in theory, underwhelming in execution.
A Band Searching for Itself—and Asking Fans to Pay for the Journey
Portugal. The Man remains a beloved band for many reasons. Their catalog is deep, their history rich, their live shows once legendary for their mix of atmosphere and musicality. But the 2025 iteration feels unmoored—like a project trying to reinvent itself without figuring out what, exactly, it wants to be.
Losing an entire lineup is no small thing; chemistry matters. The members who helped shape the band’s sound are no longer part of the equation, and the replacement ensemble feels more like hired experimentalists dabbling in abstract textures than a cohesive unit with something meaningful to say.
The result is a show like this: expensive, difficult to access, visually minimal, musically fuzzy, and emotionally hollow. A night where the band seemed hidden—literally and figuratively—behind a curtain of dim lights and artistic choices that didn’t land.
The Setlist
Act 1
Denali
Pittman Ralliers
Angoon
Knik
Shish
Mush
Tyonek
Kokhanockers
Act 2
Got It All (This Can’t Be Living Now)
Head Is a Flame (Cool With It)
Senseless
V.I.S.
Modern Jesus
Creep in a T-Shirt
What, Me Worry?
Glide (NEIKED cover)
Live in the Moment
Tidal Wave
So Young
Noise Pollution
Act 3
Tanana
Father Gun
Killing in the Name (Rage Against the Machine cover) (with SNACKTIME)
Final Thoughts: A Forgettable Night in a Venue Too Hard to Get Into
The irony of the entire evening is that fans had to fight tooth and nail to get into one of the smallest rooms the band has played in years—only to witness one of the most underwhelming performances of their career. The tiny venue, the sold-out frenzy, the hype, the excitement… it all added up to an expectation the band simply didn’t meet.
Portugal. The Man once made shows feel like events—colorful, joyous, unpredictable in the best way. But this December night at Union Transfer was unpredictable for the wrong reasons: the dim stage, the sluggish new material, the disjointed pacing, and the sense that the band wasn’t quite sure who they were anymore.
It wasn’t terrible, but it wasn’t good. It was just—unfortunately—mediocre. A night fans will remember not for magic or music but for the effort it took just to get in the door.
** I’m not going to bother breaking these down into individual videos because I don’t want to waste my time on that with this show. **