DEAN BIRKHEIMER | Go Venue Magazine
September 17th 2026 saw a band play The Admiral that for more than forty years have occupied a musical space that is almost impossible to duplicate. The Violent Femmes sound can be stripped down to the essentials. Acoustic guitar, bass, percussion and a voice that has accumulated four decades of scars, sarcasm, and attitude.
The Milwaukee veterans made up of, Gordon Gano, Brian Ritchie, Blaise Garza and John Sparrow, marched on stage like they’ve done hundreds of times before while hundreds of people voluntarily packed themselves into a room with a band whose music has spent more than 45 years reassuring the socially awkward, mildly pissed-off, and gracefully unhinged that, there are others like them, and frankly it was beautiful.
The Violent Femmes have never needed a wall of Marshall stacks, a mountain of lights, or expensive stage nonsense to make an impression. Their weaponry has always been considerably more primitive. You don’t need pyrotechnics when you have personality. You don’t need a giant video wall when the singer’s face can tell the story. Forget the confetti. The crowd had spent 40 plus years stockpiling enough energy, attitude and questionable decisions to put on its own damn show. Other than a contrabass saxophone used by Blaise and a Big Johnson acoustic bass used by Brian their really is nothing out of the ordinary instrumentally speaking. Speaking of the Big Johnson bass, I had a chance to say hi to it’s creator, Nebraska’s own Troy Johnson. Hex was brought up on stage and played bass on “Gone Daddy Gone”. The device is quite impressive. Take a peek at it here.
“Country Death Song,” “Blister in the Sun,” “Gone Daddy Gone,” and “Add It Up” had the crowd going completely bonkers. For a few glorious minutes, middle-aged knees through out the hall forgot they had responsibilities. The crowd was already teetering on the edge of sanity, but the encore featuring “American Music” pushed the entire venue straight over it.
After all these years, The Violent Femmes haven’t mellowed, but have perfected the art of controlled chaos. The songs haven’t lost a bit of their bite, and the crowd still erupts like it’s 1983 and somehow the weird little band that never quite fit anywhere, thankfully still sounds exactly like themselves.
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