The Violent Femmes; they bring all their equipment on the bus. And you cannot fuck with The Violent Femmes. You cannot fuck with this band!”
Change is good. Many things should change. Adapt. Evolve. Others should remain the same. I can put on a Violent Femmes album from 1983 or 2016 and each will invoke the same feeling. A feeling which involves drinking cheap canned beer, smoking tea bags, and dancing around a poorly lit, paneled wall basement like an idiot while wearing Levis and Chuck Taylors. I might be remembering a night from 1992. Or maybe I don’t remember that night. It doesn’t matter. The Violent Femmes can do anything, but they choose instead to do the same thing they’ve always done. And this is what makes me happy. It’s what brings happiness to fans who’ve been listening since the beginning, or are perhaps just discovering them because they’ve either been living under a rock, or they are a clueless Millennial, or because they know Blister in the Sun, but thought it was Green Day. Bottom line – I am enjoying this album.