Garbage @ The Complex 10.29.2025

Shirley Manson of Garbage on stage lit in red.

Garbage gave a sonic onslaught of emotion and sonic energy at The Complex.

Concert

It is May 1, 1996 and I’m standing outside of Club DV8 with a small group of concertgoers who have gathered around Shirley Manson, the lead singer of Garbage.

Manson is concerned about her bandmates. Guitarists Duke Erikson and Steve Marker and drummer Butch Vig (the famed producer of Nirvana’s Nevermind) have decided to stumble their way to Port O’ Call Social Club to continue their merrymaking.

It would be fair to suggest that I have a crush on Manson, and I’m dizzy from just watching her sing “Milk” from two feet away. I have a feather from her pink boa that I rescued from the stage in my right pocket. She’s not as intimidating as a recent interview in a men’s magazine suggested.

I probably said something ridiculous (I’m good at that).

Roughly 29 years, six months and a few breakups (for both me and the band) later, I’m walking with my girlfriend into The Complex to see Garbage for what could be the last time. Later in the evening, Manson will explain that the structure of the music industry has made it almost impossible for the band to make money from touring in the way they’ve become accustomed to. Traveling across the country in a Sprinter van is for the young.

This is not the most heartbreaking soliloquy that Manson will give this evening.

The night begins with Starcrawler, a Los Angeles band with an East Coast sound that would have felt right at home at CBGB in the late ’70s. Fronted by Arrow de Wilde, the band is a chaotic whirl of twitches and shakes that only slows when Starcrawler throws themselves at a cover of the Ramones’ seasonally appropriate track “Pet Sematary.” De Wilde’s channeling of Joey Ramone only lasts halfway through the song. Leg kicks and head-banging ensues.

The set ends with guitarist Henri Cash abandoning the stage to hammer out the last song in the crowd. The whole performance could be dismissed as cliché if it felt disingenuous. Tonight, it doesn’t. I’d happily see them again.

Promptly at nine o’clock, Erikson, Marker, Vig and new touring bassist Nicole Fiorentino take the stage with Manson in a punk-infused kilt following close behind. “There’s No Future in Optimism” and “Hold” from the band’s new album Let All That We Imagine Be the Light open the set. I’m always interested in seeing how audiences respond to new material. There’s no dip in energy. If anything, the cheering gets louder.

“I Think I’m Paranoid,” from 1998’s Version 2.0 and “Vow” from the band’s 1995 debut give way to “Run Baby Run” from 2005’s Bleed Like Me. It’s something of a five-song sonic onslaught. We’re 25 minutes into the set before the music subsides and Manson addresses the crowd directly.

Manson warns us that she’s about to share more than she probably should. Her candor is why I’ve been a devotee for nearly three decades. Still, I’m taken back as she reveals that she spent the previous day on Antelope Island watching the bison.

Manson’s father, John Mitchell Manson, was the Director of Studies in Agriculture and Environmental Studies at the University of Edinburgh. He passed away on October 3. Somewhere in the grassland and herd she found a sense of peace. Maybe she reconnected with him or simply found the strength inside herself to carry on.

She’s broken the fourth wall. Going forward, Manson’s interactions with the crowd between songs become more frequent. She dedicates the following song, “The Trick Is to Keep Breathing” from Version 2.0, to an audience member she met earlier in the day. This is followed by “Not My Idea” from their debut album.

Having spent the better part of two months on the road, Erikson, Marker, Vig and Fiorentino are in top form. It’s unfathomable that when the band was formed in 1993, there was no intention to ever play live. Their safe space may be the studio, but their songs are elevated when performed live.

“Hammering In My Head” gives way to “Wolves,” the lone track from 2021’s No Gods No Masters. For “#1 Crush,” Manson leaves the front of the stage in favor of standing next to Vig’s drum set at the back of the stage. It’s the Nellee Hooper version of the song that appeared on the Romeo + Juliet soundtrack from 1996.

Before launching into “Bleed Like Me” from their 2005 release of the same name, Manson lays out Garbage’s credo of universal acceptance. They’ll embrace anyone regardless of gender, sexuality or political affiliation as long as they aren’t causing harm to others.

Reaching back to 1995, Manson requests that the audience sing along with “Queer.” We’re game, but our finest singing comes at the end of the evening.

For “Chinese Fire Horse,” a track from the new album where Manson pushes back against the idea that she’s too old to have an opinion, she stands by Fiorentino. The song showcases the bassist’s backing vocals. It’s an additional layer to the live sound that was missing when the live lineup featured a male bassist. This is arguably the strongest lineup the band has ever had (I say this as someone who loved when Eric Avery of Jane’s Addiction was with them).

The night continues with Version 2.0’s “When I Grow Up” and “Cherry Lips (Go Baby Go!)” from 2001’s Beautiful Garbage. Manson dedicates “Push It” to those facing hardship in these divisive times.

The set closes with the melancholy “The Day That I Met God” from Let All That We Imagine Be the Light. I would have preferred the moody “Even Though Our Love Is Doomed” or the up-tempo “No Horses” but I’m not the one writing the set list. It’s an incredibly minor quibble.

The encore features the early singles “Stupid Girl” and “Only Happy When It Rains.” Who could have predicted that the lyric “Pour your misery down on me” could sound so euphoric when sung by 2,000 people? If this is the end, it’s a fantastic way to go. You always want to leave with the audience wanting more.