Building community one porch at a time at Princeton Porchfest 2026

Outside the Princeton University Art Museum, the usual Saturday scene unfolded: clusters of tourists meandered through Cannon Green, with children climbing the stone tigers between Whig and Clio Halls, their shrill laughter permeating the cold fall air. Yet, beneath this normalcy, an air of anticipation hung around the building’s entrance. Look closely enough, and you might have noticed a small, robin’s-egg-blue sign in the museum’s lobby pointing you in one direction: towards Porchfest. 

After a turbulent year, the fifth rendition of Porchfest finally made its way to downtown Princeton. Originally scheduled for April 18, Princeton’s very own music festival, run by the Arts Council of Princeton, was canceled due to inclement weather. 

However, the festival lived on, rescheduled for Saturday, Sept. 27 — albeit with a smaller setlist than originally planned. Then, just one day before the event’s rain date, New Jersey Governor Mikie Sherrill issued a state of emergency for eight of the state’s counties. In a bout of luck, Mercer County was not included, but the weekend’s impending nor’easter would not be without its challenges, promising rain, temperatures in the mid-30s, and wind speeds up to 20 miles an hour. So, after the cancellation, rescheduling, and setlist reduction, the Princeton Arts Council faced a difficult decision: would Porchfest survive to see its fifth anniversary?

However, in the face of the storm, the Princeton Arts Council held true to its dedication to the Princeton community, announcing that Porchfest would be moved indoors. With this relocation, Porchfest was safe at last, bringing a day full of performances of a myriad of genres and artistic styles. As I shuffled to the mural-clad entrance of the Princeton Art Museum, my fingers still tingling from the whiplash of submitting a paper just 30 minutes earlier, I had no idea the performances I was about to see would be the remedy for my uncontrollable nerves. 

Sitting in the museum’s Grand Hall, I was shocked by how many people filled the space. Admittedly, I had assumed many people would have cut their losses and hunkered down for the incoming nor’easter, but I couldn’t have been more wrong. In fact, the room was so full that many attendees were forced to stand.

Soon after I sat down, Princeton Porchfest began with Mariachi Los Tigres de Princeton, Princeton’s first official student mariachi band. As the members made their way to the stage and waves of people huddled closer for a better look, I couldn’t help but forget, even for a moment, that I was sitting under fluorescent lights in a densely packed, confined space and not a blue sky with fresh air.

The performance was nothing short of refreshing. Up until that moment, I hadn’t had many opportunities to see mariachi bands, but I quickly found myself swaying with the enchanting violins, my foot involuntarily bouncing with the deep pulse of the guitarrón. As the band played their final song, “Volver Volver,” starting it off with an impassioned grito — a shrill, high-pitched sound used to express spontaneous emotion in mariachi music — a child behind me was moved to follow suit.

Despite the chilling wind outside, leaving the Museum that afternoon left me with a warmth that stayed with me as I made my way to Nassau Street to check out Denim Dennis, a funk-and-rock fusion band performing in the Princeton Public Library. As I went to pull open the library door, though, I was once again surrounded by a crowd of people, marking the moment I learned perhaps my favorite aspect of Porchfest: the Porchfest Express. A last-minute addition to this year’s Porchfest, this little brown and white trolley demonstrated to me that the Princeton Art Council’s dedication to its community extended further than the event itself. Although small, this trolley made sure everyone, no matter their age or abilities, could experience the joy created by each of the available concerts. 

My Porchfest experience was not complete, however, until I stepped into Coffee Club to see the band Strawberry Milk. As I made my way to the little stage in the corner of the basement café, someone tapped me on the shoulder and asked, “Do you know if this is a student band?” I realized in the moment that I hadn’t the faintest idea how to answer that question, but luckily was saved by the woman in front of me, who was leaning on the counter with her camera out. She explained how Strawberry Milk was created by three Princeton University students — Toussaint Santicola Jones ’25 on vocals and bass, Harit Raghunathan ’25 on drums, and Chris Johnston ’24 on guitar and vocals — during their undergraduate years, sliding in the fact that her son was the band’s drummer.

As for the set, Strawberry Milk blew me away with the 45 minutes they had. Though advertised as a hard-soft rock fusion band, I found those labels misleading as I struggled to place their exact music genre. In seeking this clarity, I was hypnotized by Raghunathan’s drumming and transported into their soundscape by Johnston’s lyrics, rich with metaphor and emotions often too obscure to name. Jones’ vocals were the crowning touch, often leaving me wondering if I had accidentally snuck into one of Jeff Buckley’s early coffee shop matinees.

I later learned in a conversation with the members of Strawberry Milk that this was not their first Porchfest; actually, they have been part of the lineup for four years in a row. When asked what keeps bringing them back, Jones noted how amazing it was that they had the opportunity to “play music with no fee associated” and touched on the exclusivity that comes with concerts held in eating clubs — another venue in which they frequently perform.

Ultimately, my conversation with Strawberry Milk perfectly encapsulates how I feel about Princeton’s fifth annual Porchfest. While I returned to my dorm significantly more damp than when I left, my discomfort became irrelevant the second I thought back to the past few hours. In that time, I stepped into different cultures and had conversations I never thought were possible. Though every artist I had the pleasure of seeing, regardless of their genre, amazed me with their artistic prowess, there was undoubtedly one thing that motivated me to return next year: the covert calm hidden within every crowd I joined. Whether you can’t survive without an AirPod in your ear or prefer silence in your day-to-day, take that step and go to Porchfest — it’ll be there, rain or shine.

Kellen Fisher is a member of the Class of 2030 from Ewing, N.J., and a contributing writer for The Prospect and the Newsletter. He can be reached at kwf[at]dailyprincetonian.com

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