Alabama Shakes arrived, and the air turned silky, soulful. Brittany Howard doesn’t just sing – she contorts, dances the notes out of the ether with her whole mouth. Backed by a killer band, they previewed a new track, “I Feel Your Coming,” in an outfit that caught the light and turned her into a moving canvas – pinks, violets, shifting blue. An “ICE OUT” badge stuck to the guitar strap. The crowd locked in, one chorus, under an orange sky. First time seeing Alabama Shakes. Won’t be the last.

Then the sun dropped, and the site showed its hand: Lisbon’s white buildings to the right, catching the last light off glass windows. The river to the left, dark blue by now, framed by cloud that looked less like weather and more like stage design.

Local hero Gui Aly delivered the festival’s quiet dividend. Lisbon-born, first turned heads winning EDP Live Bands back in 2020. On the WTF Clubbing stage: stripped-back guitar, intimate, melancholic vocals. A secret. Not enough people are in on it yet.

Then came Nick Cave.

No slow burn. Straight for the throat with “Get Ready for Love.” Cave detonates. “Fucking Lisbon!” he roared, and the whole field was his.

Minutes in: thousands clapping as one during “From Her to Eternity.” This isn’t showmanship, it’s something closer to spiritual. During “Oh Children,” Warren Ellis – perched on a chair, attacking his electric violin – sent strings flying off the bow, piercing the night. By “Carnage” and “Henry Lee,” the mood split down the middle: pure joy, devastating beauty, both at once. Tears guaranteed.

What sets Cave apart is the need. He held the crowd’s hands all night, leaning so far down it looked like he needed their touch as much as they needed his. When he didn’t need the mic, he dropped it, threw it away – letting it float on a sea of upturned hands until he reached back for it.

The Bad Seeds roared behind him, a wall of sound, but Cave folded them into the theatre – one voice, one chorus. The peak: “Jubilee Street” into “Hollywood.” Cave stepped off the barrier, onto the crowd, walking on water. They held him up. He sang, eyes on the cosmos.

My mum once warned me off Nick Cave. Called him “dark and weird.” Standing in that crowd, I have never felt more seen. Two songs straight of streaming tears – “Joy,” “Rings of Saturn.” Cave doesn’t let you feel something small. He forces the big stuff up and out. Nowhere more than “Into My Arms,” the closer, Cave alone at the piano. Shattering. Collective.

I felt genuinely bereft when it ended.

Following that was always going to be impossible. How do you step out of a secular baptism? But if anyone could ground a room after Nick Cave, it’s Matt Berninger. He closed the night with that baritone melancholy – The National’s answer to catharsis. Where Cave demanded theatre, Berninger offered a landing. Soft. Steady. Exactly what a spent crowd needed.

Thursday at NOS Alive is the proof: river light and raw feeling, crystal-clear sound, fused effortlessly. You arrive under a blinding sun. You leave under the stars. Changed.