Garbage at the Anthem: A Cathedral of Noise
Words and Photos by Michael Sprouse/ Odd Rocker Photography
The Anthem was already buzzing before Garbage took the stage Wednesday night, 9/17/2025 on their Happy Endings tour. There’s something about seeing a band with this much history in a venue like The Anthem — you feel the weight of the years, the soundtracks to your younger self, but also the thrill that maybe, just maybe, they’re going to rip the paint off the walls again like it’s 1995. That’s the gamble when you walk into a show like this. Are they still dangerous, still relevant, or is it nostalgia running the show?
People were talking about seeing Garbage back in ’95, others comparing setlists from the last tour. And then there were the younger fans, the ones who clearly weren’t alive when Version 2.0 came out, but stood there wide-eyed, ready to witness what they’d probably been streaming for years.
That cross-generational mix always makes a show like this feel richer. You’ve got lifers who treat Shirley Manson like a patron saint, standing shoulder to shoulder with kids who discovered “Only Happy When It Rains” because it showed up in some Netflix series soundtrack.
Turns out, Garbage didn’t bother with nostalgia. They torched it, stomped on it, and built something new out of the ashes.
The Anthem’s massive hall was cloaked in shadows until Shirley Manson finally emerged, clad in black leather and framed in blood-red light, it wasn’t so much an entrance as it was a summoning.
The band launched straight into “There’s No Future in Optimism,” a relatively newer cut that felt like both a statement and a dare. Shirley spat each line like it was carved into stone, her voice sharp against the grinding guitars.
The crowd was still settling in when they shifted into “Hold.” That one carried a slow, menacing crawl, and the way the bass shook the room made the balcony feel like it was breathing. Garbage knows how to set a mood — brooding, unsettled, full of teeth. By the time “Empty” rang out, the energy finally cracked open. The Anthem went from watchful silence to a restless bounce, along with Shirley’s punchy delivery. It was one of those early-set moments where you realized: this wasn’t going to be a polite, career-retrospective show. This was a living, breathing monster.
Then came “I Think I’m Paranoid.” And that was the first real detonation.
You could feel it in your ribs — the drums pounding like a war march, Shirley pacing the stage, mic wrapped in her fist. The crowd screamed back the chorus so loud it nearly swallowed the band whole. Garbage has always balanced menace with melody, and here it was on full display: ugly beauty and chaos wrapped in sugar.
Watch the official music video for “I Think I’m Paranoid” by Garbage on YouTube:
When they tore into “Vow” right after, it felt primal. Shirley leaned into the edge of the stage, snarling “I can’t use what I can’t abuse,” and suddenly the whole floor was pulsing like one massive organism. Not every song was a blunt instrument. “Run Baby Run” had that bittersweet sheen, almost pop in its gloss, and yet Shirley delivered it with an edge that made it ache. Then came “The Trick Is to Keep Breathing.” Slower, more fragile, with her voice floating above the mix like a confession whispered in your ear.
I found myself remembering long nights in the late ‘90s when Garbage was the soundtrack to heartbreak or defiance. That’s the weird alchemy of this band — they tap into something that doesn’t age, because it isn’t about fashion or trends, it’s about the mess of being human.
“Not My Idea” snapped us right back, Shirley practically spitting the lyrics, her voice curling with venom. And then “Hammering in My Head,” a song that’s always felt like a panic attack set to music, came alive with jagged strobes and thundering percussion. It was disorienting in the best possible way.
The middle stretch of the set was feral. “Wolves” prowled with menace, Shirley stalking the stage like a predator. “Parade” was sleek and sinister, her vocals threading through the industrial buzz like a knife. When “No Gods No Masters” hit, it was a sermon wrapped in distortion — part anthem, part warning.
“Bleed Like Me” was gut-punch raw. Shirley introduced it with a few words about loneliness and survival, her voice cracking just slightly, and then the band ripped into it with the kind of intensity that made you believe every syllable. It’s easy to focus everything on Shirley — she is the undeniable nucleus — but the rest of the band was a machine last night. Duke Erikson and Steve Marker traded off between walls of guitar distortion and those jagged, needlepoint riffs that define Garbage’s sound.
Watch the official music video for “Bleed Like Me” by Garbage on YouTube:
Butch Vig — legendary not just for his production work on Nevermind but for being the heartbeat of this band — was thunder behind the kit, keeping it tight but adding those subtle flourishes that remind you why drummers matter so much.
There were moments where the four of them locked into a groove so tight it felt like the floor might buckle. Garbage has always existed in that weird intersection of rock, industrial, and pop, and live, the edges sharpen in a way you just can’t get on record.
The guitars buzzed like chainsaws, the synths pulsed like a migraine, and Shirley’s voice cut clean through it all — icy, unrelenting.
Part of the thrill of seeing Garbage live is hearing Shirley talk between songs. She’s always had that Scottish drawl wrapped around a razor blade — equal parts sardonic and disarmingly intimate.
And then — chaos. “Godhead” came snarling out, followed by “Chinese Fire Horse.” That one was a surprise, a deep cut that turned the pit into a frenzy. The Anthem might be sleek and polished as venues go, but at that moment it felt like the dirtiest, sweatiest basement club in the city.
There’s always a point in a Garbage show where the darkness cracks open just enough for something brighter, shinier, almost playful. That came with “Cherry Lips (Go Baby Go!).” The whole room bounced, people shouting “Go baby go, go!” like it was a playground chant. Shirley grinned, strutting across the stage with the sly confidence of someone who knows exactly how much power she holds.
But then — whiplash. “Push It” hit like a car crash, lights strobed in seizure-inducing bursts, the band pounding with mechanical precision. If “Cherry Lips” was a wink, “Push It” was a fist in the teeth.
“Why Do You Love Me” followed, sharp and jagged, the crowd spitting the chorus back with equal parts fury and glee. And then came “The Day That I Met God.” Rarely played, abrasive, confrontational. It was the kind of song that reminds you Garbage was never just a radio band — they were always a little too weird, a little too dangerous, to fit neatly into pop boxes.
The main set ended in a squall of noise, and for a moment, the lights stayed low, the crowd screaming for more. When they finally returned, Shirley raised her hand like a conductor quieting an orchestra. Then — boom — “Stupid Girl.”
The Anthem erupted. That bassline throbbed, the guitars slashed, and Shirley smirked her way through the verses like she was delivering a lesson we still hadn’t learned after all these years.
Watch the official music video for “Stupid Girl” by Garbage on YouTube:
And, of course, the closer had to be “Only Happy When It Rains.” The opening chords hit and the place transformed into one massive choir. People who hadn’t sung all night suddenly had their fists in the air, belting every word like it was scripture. The irony, the bite, the gleeful misery — it still works, maybe more now than ever. By the time the final notes rang out, the Anthem was shaking with applause, sweaty and euphoric, a congregation that had just been baptized in noise.
Walking out along The Wharf afterward, the air cool again, I kept thinking about how Garbage has always lived in that strange middle ground — too pop for the goth kids, too weird for the pop kids, too stylish to be grunge, too jagged to be mainstream. Yet here they are, still pulling thousands into a room, still making those rooms quake.
Some shows you leave humming, the kind of rare night where the past and present collide, and you walk away buzzing like you’ve been plugged straight into the power grid.
Setlist
There’s No Future in Optimism
Hold
Empty
I Think I’m Paranoid
Vow
Run Baby Run
The Trick Is to Keep Breathing
Not My Idea
Hammering in My Head
Wolves
Parade
No Gods No Masters
Bleed Like Me
Godhead
Chinese Fire Horse
Cherry Lips (Go Baby Go!)
Push It
Why Do You Love Me
The Day That I Met God
Encore:
Stupid Girl
Only Happy When It Rains
Here are some photos of Garbage performing live at The Anthem in DC on Sept. 17, 2025. All pictures copyright and courtesy of Michael Sprouse/ Odd Rocker Photography.
