There’s a special kind of disappointment that only happens when nostalgia collides with reality. That was the story of Bow Wow Wow’s 2025 stop at the House of Blues — a set that proved sometimes it’s better to leave the memories where they belong. For those of us who grew up hearing I Want Candy on MTV or digging into the band’s tribal beats and punk-pop energy, the idea of seeing them live again was at least a curiosity. The posters even teased a kind of retro revival — Bow Wow Wow sharing a bill with Missing Persons and The Motels sounded like an early-’80s dream lineup.
But what took the stage that night wasn’t the Bow Wow Wow anyone came to see. It wasn’t even a respectable facsimile. The only original member present was bassist Leigh Gorman, whose distinctive slap-funk playing helped define the band’s sound back in the day. Missing in action, and missed more than words can express, was singer Annabella Lwin, whose playful, rebellious voice and wild charisma were the beating heart of Bow Wow Wow. Without her, what was left felt like a tribute band that didn’t even know who it was paying tribute to.
The Letdown
From the very first note of Aphrodisiac, it was clear something was wrong. The sound was muddled, the timing off, and the energy flat. The musicians — clearly not seasoned veterans of the Bow Wow Wow aesthetic — looked uncertain and disconnected from one another. They went through the motions, but it lacked that sharp, polyrhythmic precision that made the band such a quirky force in the New Wave scene.
And then there was the singer. It’s harsh but honest to say she simply couldn’t sing. Her tone was off, her phrasing clumsy, and her attempts to channel Lwin’s flirtatious attitude came across as forced cosplay rather than performance. The crowd — at least those of us who had shown up expecting to see Annabella — quickly realized something was amiss. You could literally see people craning their necks, whispering to one another, exchanging confused glances. “Who is that?” someone near the front asked aloud. Another person muttered, “Is this a cover band?”
Even for longtime fans who were aware of Lwin’s absence, the disconnect was jarring. Bow Wow Wow’s music is inseparable from her presence. Her mix of innocence and swagger, her signature whoops and playful yelps, her ability to ride the tricky grooves Gorman and guitarist Matthew Ashman built — that was the soul of the band. Without her, the songs felt like they’d been hollowed out, left to rattle around in their own emptiness.
The Setlist and the Struggle
Here’s the full setlist from the House of Blues show:
Setlist:
-
Aphrodisiac
-
Baby, Oh No!
-
Do You Wanna Hold Me?
-
These Boots Are Made for Walkin’ (Lee Hazlewood cover)
-
Orang-Outang
-
Go Wild in the Country
-
C30 C60 C90 Go!
-
I Want Candy (The Strangeloves cover)
On paper, that’s a perfectly solid run of Bow Wow Wow’s catalog — all the fan favorites, a couple of quirky deep cuts, and of course the big MTV hit to close. But in practice, it felt like a half-hour endurance test. Baby, Oh No! dragged without its trademark bounce, the guitars out of sync with the bassline’s funk rhythm. Do You Wanna Hold Me? — once an infectious mix of surf rock and tribal pop — landed with all the grace of a garage band struggling through its first rehearsal.
Their cover of These Boots Are Made for Walkin’ was particularly baffling. It’s always been a fun, cheeky song when handled with attitude, but here it sounded uninspired, with the singer straining for notes and missing most of them. By the time they got to Go Wild in the Country, which should have been the night’s highlight, the crowd’s energy had vanished. A few people clapped politely, but most stood with folded arms, waiting for it to end.
And then came I Want Candy. If there was ever a chance for redemption, that was it — the one song everyone came to hear. Instead, it became the night’s lowest moment. Gorman’s bassline still thumped along with some energy, but the rest of the band seemed to stumble through it, and the singer’s off-key vocals turned what should’ve been a nostalgic singalong into something close to parody. The audience tried to help, chanting along during the chorus, but even that couldn’t save it.
The Crowd’s Reaction
Concerts, even bad ones, usually find some sort of rhythm between performer and audience — a shared understanding that, at the very least, we’re all here for the same reason. But not this time. The disconnect was total. The crowd at House of Blues wasn’t hostile — more confused, disappointed, even sympathetic at first. People wanted to enjoy it. You could feel the goodwill early on, as fans held up phones and danced tentatively. But by the third song, that energy had evaporated.
Conversations broke out mid-set. People looked around, shrugged, or simply left to grab drinks. The mood wasn’t angry so much as awkward. When a concert gets bad enough that everyone in the room silently agrees it’s a disaster, that’s a special kind of collective experience — and that’s exactly what this was. By the time I Want Candy wrapped up, a chunk of the audience had migrated toward the back bar or the exits, eager for Missing Persons and The Motels to cleanse the palate.
Leigh Gorman’s Dilemma
It’s hard not to feel a little sympathy for Leigh Gorman. As the only remaining original member, he’s been carrying the Bow Wow Wow banner for decades, trying to keep the music alive even as time and logistics have scattered the original lineup. But there’s a fine line between keeping the legacy alive and misrepresenting it.
Gorman’s bass playing — still funky, still distinct — was one of the few redeeming elements of the show. But he looked disengaged, maybe even embarrassed at times, as if aware that the whole thing wasn’t landing. His attempts to interact with the crowd were minimal. The chemistry just wasn’t there. The rest of the band seemed like hired guns, competent enough on their instruments but lacking any spark or understanding of what made Bow Wow Wow unique in the first place.
There’s an argument to be made that some bands can pull off this kind of lineup drift — acts like The Temptations, Journey, or Foreigner have all continued with rotating members while still delivering the essence of their sound. But Bow Wow Wow isn’t that kind of band. Their magic was always volatile, youthful, weird, and charismatic. It lived in that combination of Lwin’s wild energy and Malcolm McLaren’s artistic chaos, balanced by the band’s rhythmic muscle. Once you remove Lwin from that equation, it’s like trying to make soda without carbonation.
Painfully Short — and Still Too Long
The saving grace of the night was that the set only lasted about half an hour. In any other circumstance, that might have felt like a ripoff. But here, it was mercy. As soon as the band left the stage, you could almost hear a collective sigh of relief ripple through the crowd. People needed a breather, a chance to reset before the next acts took over.
When Missing Persons hit the stage shortly after, the difference was immediate and striking. Dale Bozzio may not be the same performer she was in 1982, but her presence, her voice, and her sense of theatricality reminded everyone what a real frontperson can do. The contrast made Bow Wow Wow’s performance look even worse by comparison. By the time The Motels played later in the night, the energy in the room had fully recovered — almost like the crowd needed to exorcise the awkwardness of the first set.
A Legacy Undermined
What made this night so sad wasn’t just the bad music — it was the way it undercut Bow Wow Wow’s legacy. This was a band that helped bridge punk and pop, a group that dared to mix Burundi beats with surf guitar and teenage rebellion. They were colorful, defiant, playful — and Annabella Lwin was one of the most underrated frontwomen of her era.
Seeing a band limp through those songs with none of that original spark, and none of the personnel who made it matter, felt like watching someone parody your memories. Nostalgia acts are supposed to rekindle something — not remind you of how far it’s all fallen apart. If anything, this show served as a cautionary tale about how far brand recognition can be stretched before it breaks entirely.
There’s no shame in moving on, no shame in letting an iconic name rest in peace. But there’s something borderline cruel about dragging it out in such poor form. Bow Wow Wow deserves better than what this current iteration delivered.
The Verdict
After more than 150 live sets this year — spanning every genre, from massive stadium tours to tiny club gigs — this was, hands down, the worst performance of them all. There wasn’t a single redeeming moment, not even the expected nostalgia rush that usually saves legacy acts from total collapse. The music was sloppy, the singing atrocious, the presentation confusing, and the atmosphere painful.
Leigh Gorman may have noble intentions in keeping the band name alive, but this lineup and performance did more harm than good. If this had been billed as a tribute band, maybe expectations would have been lower. But calling it Bow Wow Wow set the bar at least somewhere above the floor, and unfortunately, they couldn’t even clear that.
Final Thoughts
Walking out of the House of Blues that night, it was hard not to feel a mix of frustration and sadness. Nostalgia tours can be hit or miss, but they almost always offer at least a glimpse of what once was. This show offered none of that. It was a hollow echo of something vibrant — a memory stretched too thin.
For those in attendance, it’ll likely go down as one of those “you had to be there” stories, but not in the good way. In the “you wouldn’t believe how bad it was” way. A sobering reminder that not every band from the past needs to make a comeback, and that sometimes, the best way to honor a legacy is simply to let it rest.
Grade: F – A painful misfire that left fans confused, disappointed, and longing for the real thing.