Seeing Violent Femmes in 2019 feels less like attending a nostalgia act and more like stepping into a living, breathing American songbook that just happens to be written by a band that never played by anyone else’s rules. At the House of Blues in May, the Femmes delivered a set that was equal parts raw, funny, uncomfortable, joyful, and deeply familiar. This wasn’t a slick greatest-hits run-through designed to cash in on goodwill. It was messy in the right ways, intimate in the ways only Violent Femmes can be, and packed with the kind of emotional whiplash that’s kept their music relevant for more than four decades.
The House of Blues was the perfect room for them—close, sweaty, and slightly unhinged. The crowd skewed older but not tired: Gen X lifers, punk-adjacent diehards, people who discovered the band through older siblings, and a surprising number of younger fans who clearly found Violent Femmes the way everyone does—by accident, and then forever. There was an unspoken understanding in the room that this band isn’t about polish or perfection. They’re about songs that feel like they crawled out of your own brain at some embarrassing moment in your life.
They opened with “This Free Ride,” setting the tone immediately. It’s a song that feels loose and ramshackle, and it worked as a mission statement for the night. Gordon Gano’s voice—nasal, conversational, occasionally cracking—was right where it needed to be. He doesn’t sing so much as confess, and that quality hasn’t dulled with age. If anything, the years have added weight to lines that once sounded like teenage anxiety and now feel like reflections from someone who’s lived inside those feelings for decades.
“Memory” followed, and suddenly the room shifted. The song’s aching restraint pulled the audience in closer, and you could feel people leaning forward, not physically but emotionally. Violent Femmes have always excelled at making silence feel as important as noise, and live, that dynamic hits even harder. The band wasn’t rushing anything. They let moments breathe, trusting the songs to do the work.
As the set moved into “Look Like That” and “Good For/At Nothing,” the energy picked up without losing its edge. Brian Ritchie’s bass—still the secret weapon of the band—thumped and snapped in a way that reminded everyone why Violent Femmes never needed a traditional rock lineup. That upright bass sound gives their music a physical presence that you feel in your chest, grounding even the most neurotic lyrics in something primal.
“Love Love Love Love Love” and “Prove My Love” leaned into the Femmes’ ability to turn obsession into art. These aren’t love songs in the traditional sense; they’re songs about the messiness of wanting something too much and not knowing what to do with it. Live, Gano delivered them with a mix of humor and sincerity that felt completely unforced. He knows how ridiculous these emotions can sound—and how real they still feel.
By the time they hit “Promise” and “Another Chorus,” the band had the room exactly where they wanted it. There was laughter, spontaneous applause at odd lyrical moments, and a sense that everyone was sharing in the same slightly uncomfortable group therapy session. Violent Femmes have always thrived on that tension between awkwardness and catharsis, and it was fully intact here.
“Not Ok” brought a darker undercurrent, its blunt honesty landing harder than it probably did decades ago. Gano didn’t dramatize it; he just let the words sit there, trusting the audience to fill in their own experiences. That trust is a big part of what makes the Femmes endure. They never over-explain.
Then came the stretch everyone was waiting for, starting with “Blister in the Sun.” Predictably, the room erupted, but it didn’t feel tired or ironic. It felt earned. The song still works because it’s weird, specific, and slightly uncomfortable—qualities that don’t age out. The crowd sang along loudly, but not sloppily, like people who’ve lived with this song for most of their lives.
“Kiss Off” followed, and the famous count-off turned the House of Blues into a communal shout-along. It was chaotic in the best way, with Gano half-smiling through the mayhem. This is one of those songs that could easily become parody in lesser hands, but Violent Femmes understand exactly where the line is, and they never cross it.
“Jesus Walking on the Water” and “Color Me Once” shifted the mood again, reminding everyone that this band is deeply weird in a way that has nothing to do with trends. These songs felt almost timeless, floating outside of era or expectation. The religious imagery, the surreal lyrics—it all worked without explanation.
“Hallowed Ground” brought a haunting, almost reverent feel to the room. It’s a song that benefits enormously from a live setting, where its tension and release can stretch out organically. The band played it with restraint, letting the atmosphere do the heavy lifting.
“I’m Nothing” and “Gimme the Car” injected humor and nervous energy back into the set, the audience laughing and nodding along to lyrics that hit a little too close to home. Violent Femmes have always been masters of making self-loathing sound catchy without trivializing it, and these performances underscored that balance beautifully.
“Black Girls” came next, delivered with the same unapologetic bluntness it’s always had. The crowd reaction was interesting—less raucous, more attentive—which made sense. It’s a song that invites discomfort and reflection, and the band didn’t try to soften it. They let it stand as it is.
“Gone Daddy Gone” was pure release, the marimba line cutting through the room like a celebration. It’s impossible not to move during this song, and the House of Blues turned into a joyful mess of dancing, clapping, and smiling. The Femmes looked like they were having genuine fun here, feeding off the crowd’s energy.
“American Music” closed the main set on a high note, its ironic patriotism and rootsy bounce feeling especially resonant in a time when the idea of “American music” feels both contested and expansive. It was a reminder that Violent Femmes have always belonged to their own strange corner of that tradition.
The encore began with “God Bless America,” a choice that felt both sincere and subversive. It was understated, almost tender, and it quieted the room in a way few songs can. “I’m Not Gonna Cry” followed, fragile and honest, before the band launched into “Add It Up” to close the night.
“Add It Up” remains one of the great emotional purges in rock music, and live, it still hits like a gut punch. Gano didn’t scream it like he was trying to recreate the past. Instead, he delivered it with controlled intensity, letting the words carry the weight. The crowd shouted back every line, not out of nostalgia, but recognition.
When the lights came up, there was no sense of something being reenacted or preserved in amber. This felt like a band that still understands exactly who they are and why their songs matter. Violent Femmes at the House of Blues in May 2019 weren’t trying to prove anything. They didn’t need to. They just showed up, played the songs honestly, and reminded everyone why awkward, uncomfortable, deeply human music never goes out of style.
Setlist
This Free Ride
Memory
Look Like That
Good For/At Nothing
Love Love Love Love Love
Prove My Love
Promise
Another Chorus
Not Ok
Blister in the Sun
Kiss Off
Jesus Walking on the Water
Color Me Once
Hallowed Ground
I’m Nothing
Gimme the Car
Black Girls
Gone Daddy Gone
American Music
Encore:
God Bless America
I’m Not Gonna Cry
Add It Up