It’s insane to me that The Dandy Warhols have been doing their thing for 30 years now. Even crazier is the realization that I’ve been along for the ride (pun intended) for roughly 27 of those years, first seeing them at The Fillmore opening for The Charlatans UK and coming back with zero memory of the headliner. That night, while my friend was desperately trying to stalk Courtney Taylor-Taylor (with limited success), I tripped over Zia McCabe, and she signed the back of my poster. Why not the front? Because I’m an idiot. But she was incredibly kind and remains probably the nicest person in rock.
Bimbo’s 365 Club always feels like a walk into the past. At its core, the venue is primed for nostalgia with the red velvet carpets, clean white uniforms, and bow ties on the bar staff, and how North Beach remains the most static neighborhood in SF. (I will forever miss the late drunken nights of cheap Indian and beer at Kennedy’s, however). Much like myself, the audience had grayed a bit in the years, but still very much felt like a late 90’s crowd. Strangers had conversations, the beer was consistently the inexpensive variety in bottles easy to hold at a show, and one guy desperately tried to start a pit for nearly every song (and failing miserably). It felt really good.
Unlike the audience, the band looked like they hadn’t aged a day. It’s pretty unfair that the sexiest indie rock band of the 90s is also the sexiest indie rock band of the 2020s. And you can feel the teenage crush energy on the crowd as the band opened with the heavy, acid rock assault of “Best Friend,” going straight into the first album classic “Ride.” Courtney and Pete traded monstrous psych guitar riffs, turning my completely sober brain into a wash of jelly for the rest of the night. Brent and Zia, the most underrated rhythm section in rock, kept the groove lock steady during the flourishes.
The show truly was a career retrospective, hitting nearly every record and leaving no era unchecked. The biggest difference? Historically, Dandy’s shows could seem like they were about to teeter into pure chaos at any moment, often ending in nudity and noise. This set was tight and professional and possibly more fun than the band’s vintage era.
It, of course, wasn’t without unscripted moments. Zia and Brent took a bathroom break mid-show, leaving Courtney and Pete alone on stage. After a brief attempt at trying to remember how to play “Freebird,” we were treated to a spontaneous performance of their rarely performed breakthrough hit “Not If You Were The Last Junkie On Earth,” complete with the audience joining and helping with the lyrics.
The show’s final quarter was devoted to the hits, and the band genuinely enjoyed them. “Everyday Should Be A Holiday” felt like a holiday, as it should. “Gett Off” didn’t lose its snarky charm. “Godless” had the trumpet part replaced by 3-part falsetto harmonies. Set closer, “Pete International Airport” jetted right into “Boys Better,” which was a brilliant way to end things.
Except the historically encore-shy band didn’t end there. Zia kept going with a masterful solo Korg jam that kept the party going. This was followed by the most heartfelt and warm thank you / love letter to San Francisco, which ended with a potent performance of the Janis Joplin classic “Mercedes Benz” that literally gave me goosebumps.
What a fantastic show! I’m hoping to get to experience another 30 years of this.
