Miami’s Factory Town hosted nearly 100 artists at Hocus Pocus this year, delivering a night-to-sunrise dance experience rooted in atmosphere, community, and thoughtful production.
As someone who lives in Miami and has watched Hocus Pocus evolve since its first year, I can confidently say the festival consistently outdoes itself, and the attention to detail is what stands out. The city is already a playground for dance-music enthusiasts year-round, but Halloween hits differently here. It may not be about trick-or-treating anymore, yet the festive energy remains unmistakable.
Hocus Pocus taps into that nostalgia in a way few festivals can, transforming Factory Town into a Halloween-themed playground with immersive décor, creative touches, and an atmosphere that feels surprisingly warm and communal, even inside a rave. It’s a night-to-sunrise party, but it also brings back the pure spirit of Halloween nights from younger days.
From October 31 to November 2, Factory Town became a nocturnal environment once again, running from 7pm to 7am and hosting over 90 artists across three nights. Because large events at the venue happen every few months, there’s always a sense of anticipation when the gates open. Even as a returning attendee who knows the venue well, the scale of the programming always manages to feel larger than life, and the lineups never cease to excite me and slightly surprise.
I’ve danced through countless Miami Music Week closings and late-night sessions here, and Hocus Pocus has always been one of the most defining and creatively assembled dance events that I urge music enthusiasts to attend. 2025 was different, not because of who played, but because of what Factory Town is becoming, and thousands came to see it for themselves.
Hocus Pocus is a growing festival with a venue that is redefining itself.
Hocus Pocus is still young in the grand timeline of festivals. The venue is the kind of space that holds the energy of the factory it once was, and part of its charm is that it feels found rather than designed. Now, after renovations, the venue feels more permanent. For some, the changes brought relief. For others, a little of the venue’s wild charm felt like it was traded away.
The festival unfolded inside that tension, and either way, the heart of the festival, the venue, and the community that enjoys it were there from start to finish.
One of the most talked-about aspects of the weekend was the sound quality. From our experience, each stage remained clear and consistent, even during peak hours, something not always guaranteed at US festivals. The Infinity Room, a risk given its size and open-air format, stood out for its powerful sound that didn’t overwhelm.
Production offered a combination of lighting architecture, haze, and movement that defined the space. It was exciting as always, and offered plenty of Halloween spirit, but the focus remained on the music and the connection between the people. Additionally, the local presence felt purposeful, not token, and it was evident in the mixed lineups where big names and local risers collided, with fans showing up every time.
The festival’s stages told a story of its space.
Infinity Room is always the first reminder of just how large and open Factory Town can feel. The sound was sharp, and the stage’s scale didn’t swallow the crowd. I found myself here for sets from Loco Dice, Prunk b2b Kerri Chandler, Vintage Culture, Josh Baker, Nicole Gallamini, Luke Dean, and a euphoric b2b from Jamie Jones and Seth Troxler. A moment that stayed with me was seeing Rony Seikaly again, the first DJ I ever saw when I moved to Miami. It felt like a full-circle marker of how long this city has been shaping me.
This stage gave the floor to massive global acts that have gained respect across genres for their sounds and longevity in the game, for good reason, reinforcing the festival’s enormous and communal energy.
The Park has a special place in my heart and in my itinerary when it comes to a night at Factory Town.
The shape of the crowd, narrow and extended, the overhead cover that filters sound just enough to feel enclosed but not trapped, and the vantage point from VIP/backstage, where you can see the entire dance floor breathing together, are some of the reasons I find myself at this stage making the best of memories.
This year, the stage moved through arcs shaped by giants like Adriatique and WhoMadeWho, Gioli & Assia, Daizy, and Disclosure, whose set left attendees raving. Gordo and Sara Landry each took the space into high-energy closings, while KI/KI delivered the kind of hypnotic acid-leaning build that makes the hours feel suspended. The direction in which the stage faces changes here and there, so its frequent switch-ups made its expansion this year less notable. What is key here is that the stage still offered a satisfying range across genres and moods, with the same incredible, particular intensity that makes you want to release all the energy within.
The Warehouse seemed brighter inside this year, but the music still leaned dark and dense.
A stacked lineup including Sister System, techno-pounding legend DJ Stingray 313, Hannah Laing, 999999999, Cole Knight, Interplanetary Criminal, and Miami-native gems Berakka and Coffintexts shaped a room where movement felt explosive. It was the kind of space you enter to feel the music physically, not to watch a performance happen in front of you.
The Chain Room remains the best expression of Factory Town history, to me, ridden with grungy, close, and confident vibes.
The expansion toward the back physically opened the room, but the energy remained tight and grounded. This is the stage where appreciation feels personal rather than performative. Kitty Amor and Mahmut Orhan’s groovy indie elements offered refreshing sounds that aren’t always rinsed in the city, and the crowd absolutely appreciated them.
Some of my favorite acts, whether huge, steady, or on the rise, grace this stage for raw, authentic displays of their artistry, all while keeping things fun. SOSA, Ruze, Slugg, and Chelina Manuhutu were on the top of my list to see, and this stage housed them this year, to my delight. Sets here feel less like shows and more like conversations held at high volume between artists and fans. Every artist played their heart out regardless of changes in their stage here, and that’s all I really pay attention to when I’m on its ground.
Cypress End is where the renovation felt most debated.
The stage expanded and the lighting increased. Some missed how it used to sit, tucked into shadow, barely visible unless you were inside it. But even with the changes, the energy held true. It remained a place where people weren’t watching the stage as much as they were feeling the crowd.
Top-tier sets rang through the section from Rafael (arguably one of the standout performances of the entire festival), Bakke, who went b2b with Bort, a key curator in Miami’s local scene, with some of the city’s most impactful figures like Sinopoli and Danyelino, also paying homage to the scene on the decks this year. The stage is capable of delivering deeply personal and grounding moments, and it did not fail.
Hocus Pocus 2025 didn’t just showcase artists, but showcased a venue in transition.
People will disagree about whether Factory Town has improved or lost something, and both views are valid. But what can be assured was that the festival felt lived-in and connected, and the high-energy performances delivered gave testament to the venue’s unique charm for both the artists and fans — as it has done from the beginning.
