Vans Warped Tour Long Beach 2025

Words by Ella Boyd. Photo by Norma Ibarra.

A couple, clad in DIY pins and checkerboard slip-ons, holds up their freshly signed Jimbo Phillips poster. Steve Van Doren hugs Jimbo, then high-fives line-goers behind him. The rest of the Warped Tour scene—frenzied and hot in the classic Southern California heat—unfolds, like adult Disneyland, behind them. 

Mod Sun’s music echoes from the Vans Left Foot stage and passerbys with eyebrow piercings and fishnets and tattoos rush to the inflatable schedule to make sure they see their bands on time. Kids with mohawks and inflatable guitars are ushered through the thick crowd by their parents, who probably attended Warped Tour in its heyday, off to see their favourite heavy metal bands as a family.

The Warped Tour layout in all its glory. Photo by Anthony Acosta.

Stage presence. Photo by Norma Ibarra.

The afternoon is still early, and the first vert ramp demo has begun. A screaming announcer excites the crowd two stories below. "Holy cow! Look at that!” Everyone nudges each other, struggling closer to the rail. Tony Hawk drops into the ramp, airs over the photogs flashing their strobes, and cleanly steps back onto the top, standing next to a small girl in a pink helmet. Said small girl then drops in, picks a line of high consequence, boosts almost as high as Hawk, and also cleanly steps back. “That was nine-year-old Cocona,” screams the announcer.

Cocona in her element. Photo by Ella Boyd.

The man, the myth, the legend. Photo by Anthony Acosta.

People murmur to each other, pack in tighter. This demonstration continues line after line. Pro BMX riders and skaters trade off to a roaring crowd as mosh pits gain energy behind them.

The pit flag. Photo by Ella Boyd.

Kevin Paraza going huge. Photo by Anthony Acosta.

Slaughter to Prevail, at Left Foot, is overpowering all the other stages. Alex Terrible is pausing after each skull-splitting song, thanking the crowd with a thick Russian accent in a tone that is more reminiscent of a kindly grandmother than a heavy metal rocker. 

“Everyone good? No one is injured?” The crowd throws their horns and the music starts back up, louder and louder each time. The ground is literally thumping. The skull masks are head-banging behind him in unison, the band’s long hair flaring up and down as the crowd parts like the red sea, opening up for everyone to explode into the pits, bodies clashing, legs racing, arms swinging.

The crowd throwing horns. Photo by Norma Ibarra.

Bodies flailing in the pit. Photo by Ella Boyd.

Between sets, the crowd trickles to the tents set up in the corners of the parking lots. The Vans charm pit gathers a long line. Customs have been the heart and soul of Vans for decades, and people leap at the opportunity to customize their shoes in real time. People wave through Artist Alley to buy merch and through the Warped Tour Museum to see relics from the early days of the festival. While Pennywise drowns out chatter in the crowd, here, a quieter, generational appreciation for punk rock floods the veins of families floating through the tents taking a break from the noise.

The Vans Charm Pit in action. Photo by Ella Boyd. 

Lizzie Armanto, Arisa Trew, and Chloe Covell in the Charm Pit. Photo by Norma Ibarra.

The day marches on, sun falling as set after set quiets and props are changed out on the stages. The sky is peach, the air thick with smoke, the ground sticky with spilled beer. Getting from one stage to another is a battle against the current. 

The crowd is cloyingly thick, and bodies are pressed against the railing like it is life or death. Flames shoot off the stage to the right. More screaming, more drums, more tattoos and then, silence. Giant, two-dimensional Labubu props are moved onto the stage. Finally, in a burst of sound and flame, Blackbear appears on the Ghost stage.

Blackbear, mid-set. Photo by Ella Boyd.

People are pressed together so tightly that there is nowhere to go but forward. Eventually, that’s what people do. Crowd surfing is part of Warped, but now it’s functional. People from the middle of the crowd are lifted to the front, over the rail, and run back to do it again. 

Spider surfing. Photo by Norma Ibarra. 

Crowdsurfers taking their victory lap. Photo by Ella Boyd.

Everyone is leaning over the railing, hands held out for high fives as crowd surfers run by. Glass-shattering bass is thumping, people are in the air, on the ground, even the VIP section has their hands raised. Tonight, through the heavy Californian air and the blaring music, there is unity in chaos.

The All-American Rejects. Photo by Pierce Pyrzenski.

Steve Van Doren and Travis Barker. Photo by Anthony Acosta.

Atiba. Photo by Norma Ibarra.