LIVE REVIEW: GARBAGE & SKUNK ANANSIE AT DREAMLAND, MARGATE 19/06/2026 (+ DU BLONDE)

Photo: Skunk Anansie by Rob O’Connor

There are some bands that don't just soundtrack your youth, they help define it. For women who came of age in the 1990s, Garbage and Skunk Anansie were never simply alternative rock bands. They were permission slips. Permission to be loud, complicated, political, vulnerable, angry, glamorous and unapologetically ourselves. Standing beneath the open skies at Dreamland on a warm June evening, surrounded by thousands of women who looked suspiciously like they'd once raided Camden Market in the late '90s, it felt less like a nostalgia trip and more like a reunion with old friends who'd never stopped fighting.

Du Blonde opened proceedings with exactly the sort of chaotic charisma the evening demanded. Beth Jeans Houghton has always occupied her own wonderfully eccentric corner of alternative music, and her half-hour set balanced humour, self-deprecation and razor-sharp songwriting. Tracks such as Next Big Thing landed particularly well, mixing infectious pop-punk hooks with biting observations about everyday sexism. There was no polished rock-star posturing here, just authenticity, big riffs and a grin that made the occasional rough edge feel entirely intentional. It was the perfect warm-up for what was to come.

Skunk Anansie arrived like a force of nature. The opening notes of ‘Charlie Big Potato’ instantly transformed Dreamland into something far more intimate than an outdoor venue. Skin remains one of the most extraordinary frontwomen in rock, not because she's fearless, but because she makes everyone around her feel fearless too. Any early technical hiccups during' ‘Because of You’ were quickly forgotten as the band settled into a set that perfectly balanced new material with beloved classics. Songs from the latest album The Painful Truth proved every bit as urgent as the tracks that first made the band famous, tackling ageing, identity and modern Britain with the same fire they've always possessed.

Then came the moments that reminded everyone why these songs have endured for three decades. ‘Hedonism (Just Because You Feel Good)’ became one giant communal singalong, while Weak was genuinely spine-tingling, thousands of voices carrying every word back towards the stage. Skin's messages about acceptance, inclusion and standing against hatred never felt like lectures; they've always been woven into Skunk Anansie's DNA. When they launched into ‘Yes It's Fucking Political’ and later ‘Little Baby Swastikkka’, those songs felt depressingly current rather than nostalgic. It was impossible not to reflect on how much has changed since the '90s and how much still hasn't. By the time Skin disappeared into the crowd and later led a women-only mosh pit, she had once again proven why she's one of Britain's greatest live performers.

Following that intensity was always going to be difficult, but Garbage wisely played to their strengths rather than trying to compete. When Skunk Anansie explodes, Garbage simmers. Shirley Manson commands attention with wit rather than physicality, and her effortless charisma remains undiminished. Opening with newer material, including ‘There's No Future In Optimism’ and ‘Hold’, Garbage demonstrated they are still creating music with purpose, before easing into a run of classics that instantly transported many of us back to battered CD wallets and late-night binge watching Music television. ‘I Think I'm Paranoid’, ‘Stupid Girl’, ‘Vow’ and ‘Only Happy When It Rains’ all sounded magnificent, while ‘Push It’ reminded everyone just how innovative Garbage always were, blending rock, electronics and pop long before genre-hopping became fashionable. Shirley's affectionate dedication of ‘Stupid Girl’ to Margate resident Tracey Emin added a lovely local touch, and her relaxed between-song storytelling made the huge venue feel surprisingly personal.

What made this co-headline tour feel so special wasn't simply the quality of the music. It was seeing two bands fronted by women who refused to fit the mould in an era when the music industry constantly tried to force them into one. Skin challenged ideas about race, sexuality and power. Shirley Manson made vulnerability sound rebellious. Together, they quietly changed what strength could look like. As someone who grew up during their heyday, I realised this wasn't really an evening about revisiting the past. It was about recognising how much these artists helped shape the women we became. Thirty years on, their songs still carry weight, their voices still matter, and their message still feels necessary. Some gigs entertain you for a night. This one reminded an entire generation why these bands mattered in the first place.