In a time when Twin Cities music festivals seem to be shipwrecked, The Minnesota Yacht Club Festival emerged as an unexpected beacon of hope for music lovers in the Twin Cities, and even around the country. Set against the backdrop of St. Paul’s Harriet Island – a venue with a rock pedigree that includes R.E.M., Whitney Houston, and Bob Dylan – the inaugural music festival pulled off a feat that has taken so many other festivals years: A seamless, exciting, and genuinely fun two-day event on the shores of the Mississippi.
Alanis Morissette, Gwen Stefani, and Morgan Wade. Photos By Darrell Lloyd and Roger Ho
Day One leaned heavy on female energy, and it was all the better for it. Morgan Wade took the stage sporting a vintage Joan Jett tee – a sartorial appetizer for what was to come. But make no mistake, Wade’s no mere opening act. Her raspy vocals and confessional lyrics cut through the hot festival haze, serving up a potent cocktail of twang and grit that left the crowd buzzed long after her last note faded. By the time “Wilder Days” rolled around, it was clear that Wade isn’t just nodding to rock legends, she’s well on her way to becoming one.
Joan Jett, forever the bad reputation queen, reminded us why leather never went out of style. “Bad Reputation” might be her calling card, but her version of The Replacements’ “Androgynous” caught the St. Paul crowd off-guard in the best way. Gwen Stefani, pulling double duty after The Black Crowes’ last-minute cancellation, proved she’s still just a girl who can command a crowd (especially with a guest appearance by husband Blake Shelton). And as for Alanis Morissette, Let’s just say it was ironic how fresh “You Oughta Know” still sounds after all these years.
Day two was a love letter to Minnesota’s musical history, with a dash of national flavor, and a Southwest kick to start the day. Tulsa’s own Wilderado’s soaring harmonies and heartland rock vibes set the stage for the evening’s heavy hitters.
Photos by Darrell Lloyd
Following them were a killer lineup of local favorites. Soul Asylum and The Hold Steady served up generous portions of nostalgic rock for some of the older heads in the crowd, while Hippo Campus showcased why they’re the current darlings of the Twin Cities music scene, working their way into the same pantheon as the bands before them. Hippo Campus, performing just a few blocks from the high school where they met, played with a kind of gratitude you could feel from even the boats in the river.
The Hold Steady, Soul Asylum, and Hippo Campus. Photos by Darrell Lloyd
Trombone Shorty, Photos by Darrell Lloyd
Trombone Shorty and his band stormed the stage like a brass-fueled hurricane straight out of the Big Easy. Shorty’s trombone wailed and growled, leading his band through a set that had even the most tepid dancers finding their groove, even by Minnesotan standards. Speaking of Minnesota standards, A slow, soulful, funk-drenched cover of Prince’s “Let’s Go Crazy” was a fresh take on an old favorite right out of the gate. While Prince covers can be a little tounge-in-cheek around these parts, It was a reminder that sometimes, the craziest thing you can do is put your own spin on a classic song in front of thousands whether they like it or not (and we did like it. a lot.)
As the sun began to set, The Offspring cranked up the energy with a set that had us all feeling pretty fly for some white guys. Mosh pits were plentiful, and the band, perhaps facetiously, told the audience that this crowd was “one of the greatest things to happen in the history of rock and roll”. Say what you want, but yelling along to “Self Esteem” with a crowd of strangers under a pink sky is a pretty unbeatable feeling. Their punk anthems were the perfect lead-in to what came next.
Gary Clark Jr, Photo by Darrell Lloyd
Gary Clark Jr. took the stage as night fell, his guitar work showing everyone why he’s hailed as one of the best axemen of his generation. His blues-rock fusion provided a gritty, soulful counterpoint to the pop-punk that preceded him, showcasing the festival’s impressive range, even if it did stunt the energy between the two acts.
Red Hot Chili Peppers, Photos by Darrell Lloyd
Closing out the night, the Red Hot Chili Peppers reminded everyone why they’re still headlining material, even if Anthony Kiedis’ wore basically the same outfit he did when he performed at US Bank last year. Their funk-rock energy was a perfect nightcap to a weekend that somehow managed to thread the needle between acts of both nostalgia and relevance.
But of all the acts to perform over the two day festival, the real MVP was Harriet Island herself. After years of being nothing more than a glorified dog park and wedding reception venue, St. Paul’s slice of urban greenery felt reborn. After years of being underutilized, MN Yacht club proved that this space could still be used as the perfect festival grounds, despite the fact that it was flooded just a week prior. With the skyline behind us, the river beside us, and 35,000 people coexisting without melting into chaos, I couldn’t help but wonder why we ever bothered with the tight confines of festivals like Rock the Garden or Basilica Block Party. This felt better—more grounded, more open and more…Minnesota.
The festival’s organizers (who are the same folks behind Lollapalooza) clearly know a thing or two about keeping the masses happy. Free water stations were plentiful, security was more “Friends handing you water” than “Bouncer whose only goal is to find and put out your joints,” and the wristband tech kept lines moving faster than you could say “I need another $18 cocktail.”
Speaking of which, if there was a sour note to be found, it was in the pricing. Those $18+ cocktails and $70 hoodies had us checking our bank accounts more often than the 20 band lineup. And while we’re nitpicking – next year – we would love it if organizers could throw in some local food trucks. After all, Nothing says “Minnesota Yacht Club” quite like a Chicago Dog, and Hibachi Burritos.
Still, those are small gripes of what I consider to be a wildly successful debut. In a world where most festivals blur together into the same acts, The Minnesota Yacht Club Festival carved out a voice of its own—and people noticed. I met folks who flew in from both coasts just to catch this lineup, which made me start to wonder: is this the beginning of a new destination festival like Lollapalooza, or a midwest Coachella? Maybe. But what really matters is that it worked. It didn’t just fill the void left by defunct local fests—it raised the bar for what they’ll need to be if they ever return.
As the crowd dispersed up the bridges into Downtown St. Paul promptly at 10:30 each night, one thing was clear: Minnesota’s festival drought is over, even if this festival is all there is moving forward (And I hope it isnt)
The Yacht Club has dropped anchor, and we’re all eager to climb aboard to set sail again next year.
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