There’s always a certain electricity in the air when it comes to live music—that buzzing mix of excitement, passion, and energy. At music festivals, that electricity doesn’t just hum, it surges. For three days, Shaky Knees lit up Midtown Atlanta, bringing with it stacked headliners, four stages of nonstop music, and an undeniable current of energy. This year marked the festival’s first time in Piedmont Park after moving from Central Park, and thousands flocked to the grounds.
But what made my first Shaky Knees experience unforgettable wasn’t just the lineup or the production—it was the people I got to share it with. Music festivals aren’t only about the music; they’re about the memories you make screaming lyrics with friends, collapsing in laughter, or crying from joy in the middle of a crowd. In a world that feels so heavy, Shaky Knees gave me something I needed: connection, joy, and release.
Arriving Friday afternoon was exactly what you’d expect from a festival of this size—traffic, sidewalks jammed with fans in cowboy boots and vintage band tees, and a steady current of people funneling into the park. But once inside, things moved smoothly: security lines were quick, and I was immediately greeted by the sound of live music and the smell of festival food drifting on the breeze.
My first stop was IDLES at the Piedmont Stage, and they delivered exactly what I hoped for: raw, old-school punk energy. Their set was loud, messy, political, and heartfelt. They led “Free Palestine” chants, called out misogyny, and urged anyone struggling with addiction to embrace vulnerability and reach out for help. It wasn’t just music; it was punk at its most vital.
Next, I drifted to the Peachtree Stage for Lenny Kravitz. I chose to watch from the hill instead of diving into the crowd, and from up there the sound was crisp, still holding that live edge I love. Kravitz brought pure charisma, tearing through decades of hits while the crowd sang and danced along.
As the sun began to set, I crossed to the Ponce de Leon Stage for The Pixies. They opened with “In Heaven,” and from there it was classic after classic. The standout moment? Joey Santiago playing his guitar with his hat, then tosses the pick entirely and using his cable as an instrument. The crowd went nuts—it was weird, it was wild, it was perfect.
Organization-wise, Friday impressed me: plenty of restrooms, quick-moving food lines, hydration stations, and surprisingly varied options beyond the usual festival fare. Prices were steep ($22 for chicken tenders and fries stung), but there was everything from Greek food to lobster rolls. I also loved the thoughtful touches: a tent handing out free Narcan, another trading Shaky Knees shirts for full bags of recycling. Watching people comb the grounds between sets with trash bags was oddly heartwarming—it turned cleanup into a group effort.
By nightfall, the Peachtree Stage was overflowing for the night’s big headliner: Deftones. As the lights dropped, a green haze spread across the crowd, and purple visuals filled the screens. The first chords hit, and the park erupted as Chino Moreno stormed onstage, launching into “My Own Summer (Shove It).” The crowd jumped in unison, screaming back every lyric. They tore through hit after hit— ”Sextape,” “Around the Fur”—each one heavier than the last. Looking back over the massive sea of people, I realized this was the perfect closer to day one.
Saturday had its own unofficial dress code: My Chemical Romance. Everywhere you looked, there was MCR—band tees, eyeliner, full marching-band uniforms, even three-piece suits. The entire park buzzed with anticipation hours before their set.
But first, I caught The All-American Rejects at Ponce de Leon. Their set wasn’t technically flawless, but Tyson Ritter’s chaotic charisma carried it. He teased the crowd with jokes about playing “experimental Jazz” after “Swing Swing,” spotted a couple who’d just gotten engaged and staged an impromptu wedding ceremony mid-set, and repeatedly thanked fans for sticking with them. By the time they played “Dirty Little Secret,” the whole crowd was singing along.
Cage the Elephant followed on Peachtree, and though I only knew their singles, their frontman’s energy was infectious. The set leaned toward polished—almost too polished for my taste—but it had the crowd in the palm of its hand.
Then came the moment the entire festival had been building toward: MCR. Screens lit up with authoritarian decrees from their lore, signaling that yes, this was going to be the “Black Parade” set fans were praying for. The band marched onstage in full regalia, Gerard Way leading the charge as the first notes of “The End” rang out. The park exploded.
For me, this was the highlight of Shaky Knees. Seeing MCR again nearly 20 years after my first time—this time with a friend who’d never seen them—was emotional, cathartic, and unforgettable. From the opera singer who joined them on “Mama,” to the stage literally engulfed in fire, to Gerard whispering “So long and goodnight” as “Helena” closed the set, it was theatrical perfection. Watching the drone footage later, it was obvious: MCR didn’t just headline, they owned Shaky Knees 2025.
By Sunday, the dust cloud over Piedmont Park was legendary. The sun was beating down, energy was low, but spirits were still high. DEVO kicked things off at Peachtree with sharp synths, red energy dome hats bobbing in the crowd, and even a circle pit breaking out during “Uncontrollable Urge.”
Then came Weird Al Yankovic, who delivered one of the weekend’s most incredible sets. Full costume changes, dancers, parody video montages; the whole thing was a spectacle. He brought comedy and high energy in equal measure, proving he’s still got it after all these years. The surprise cameo from Puddles Pity Party was just the cherry on top.
Finally, Blink-182 closed out the weekend. I staked out a spot on the hill with friends, watching the chaos unfold below: fans jumping, moshing, shouting every word. Blink was exactly what you’d expect: crude jokes, fast songs, and anthems that defined an era: “All the Small Things,” “What’s My Age Again?” They hit every note of nostalgia. As their last song faded, fireworks exploded over the Peachtree Stage, the crowd roaring in one last moment of festival magic.
Shaky Knees 2025 delivered on every front: music, organization, atmosphere, and community. Friday, I explored solo and soaked in the music; Saturday and Sunday, I screamed, cried, and laughed with friends. And that’s what made it unforgettable.
At the end of the day, festivals aren’t just about who’s onstage—they’re about who you’re with, and the memories you build together. Shaky Knees gave me that in spades. Thank you, Shaky Knees!
Follow Shakey Knees Festival for news and 2026 event announcements here:
https://www.shakykneesfestival.com/
WORDS BY KAT WOODS
Follow her work on Instagram: