We saw Echo & The Bunnymen live at the House of Blues on May 24, 2026. It was a rainy Sunday night in Dallas — the kind of steady, gray drizzle that would’ve felt right at home in Liverpool — when my wife, my son, and I made our way to House of Blues for our first‑ever Echo & The Bunnymen live experience. It was also our first time sitting in the balcony at HOB, which turned out to be a surprisingly great vantage point for a band that spent most of the night playing in shadows.
This stop on the More Songs to Learn and Sing tour delivered a 17‑song set that pulled heavily from the band’s early catalog:
- 5 songs from Crocodiles
- 3 from Ocean Rain (my personal favorite)
- 2 each from Heaven Up Here, Porcupine, and the self‑titled Echo & The Bunnymen — which I owned on CD back in the day, the one with “Lips Like Sugar” and “Bedbugs and Ballyhoo”
And here’s the thing: over the last several years, I’ve become a much bigger Echo & The Bunnymen fan than I ever was in the 80s. Streaming and deep‑dive listening let me really dig into their catalog, and I appreciate them now in a way teenage‑me never quite did. Seeing Echo & The Bunnymen live at this point in my life felt like the culmination of that rediscovery.
It was a career‑spanning night, but also a night full of stories — some hilarious, some baffling, all delivered in Ian McCulloch’s thick Liverpool accent that had me whispering to my wife, “I need subtitles.”
The Stage: One Man in Light, One Man in Shadow
Will Sergeant — one of the two original members still in the band — spent the entire night in crisp, clean spotlight. His guitar work was razor‑sharp, atmospheric, and unmistakably Will. And before “The Killing Moon,” he switched to a teardrop‑shaped guitar he hadn’t used at any point earlier in the set. Those opening notes — some of my favorite guitar lines in all of post‑punk — rang out beautifully from that balcony angle. Will remains a legend among guitar players of that era, and this performance was a reminder why.
Ian McCulloch, meanwhile, stayed in near‑darkness. Backlit. Obscured. A silhouette in a trench coat and sunglasses. It was dramatic, moody, and very on‑brand — though I did find myself wondering whether this was intentional stagecraft or simply “Ian prefers the shadows.”
His voice, raspier than the records but full of smoky gravitas, carried beautifully in the room. The acoustics at HOB were surprisingly strong — clear vocals, punchy drums, and guitars that filled the space without drowning it.
Lou Reed, Bowie, and McCartney: Ian’s Unfiltered Story Hour
Ian didn’t say much during the first four songs. Then, before “Rescue,” he launched into a tangent about the TV show Dallas, which somehow led to Larry Hagman — or, as Ian put it, “Larry F’ing Hagman.” From there we detoured into I Dream of Jeannie, Barbara Eden, and the kind of nostalgic TV confession you don’t expect from a post‑punk icon.
He also tossed out a line about Paul McCartney having “a couple of good songs.” Whether that was tongue‑in‑cheek, genuine shade, or just Liverpool humor is anyone’s guess — but it definitely made the crowd perk up.
Later, during “Nothing Lasts Forever,” the band slid into a medley with Lou Reed’s “Walk on the Wild Side.” Ian told a story about Lou Reed “meeting me twice,” which my wife pointed out afterward. We weren’t sure if that phrasing was a dig at Reed, a sign of Ian’s ego, or simply Liverpool vernacular. With Ian, all three are plausible.
He followed that with a story about having dinner with Reed and David Bowie and getting stuck with the bill. He called Reed a “bastard,” then launched into a pronunciation debate: Bowie vs. Bowie (as in Jim Bowie). Only in Dallas can a conversation about David Bowie naturally segue into Bowie knives and Bowie, Texas.
During “Villiers Terrace,” the band folded in a chunk of The Doors’ “Roadhouse Blues” — a perfect nod for anyone who knows Echo & The Bunnymen’s history with Doors covers (“People Are Strange,” “Soul Kitchen”). As a longtime Doors fan, this was a highlight.
At one point, Ian asked their roadie Matt to bring him a stool because his back hurt. He announced to the crowd that he had lumbago, which became one of the running jokes of the night. Later, before “The Killing Moon,” he had Matt remove the stool — but Matt forgot the small drink table next to it. Ian called him back onstage with the kind of dry, deadpan timing that made the whole theater laugh.
He also riffed on movie actors — Dustin Hoffman, De Niro, Pacino (complete with a “Hoo‑ah!” from Scent of a Woman), and a surprisingly heartfelt appreciation for Charles Grodin and Midnight Run. Laurence Olivier, however, did not fare well. Ian dismissed him as “shite.”
A Setlist Built for Devotees
You’ll see the full setlist below, but the emotional arc of the night was clear:
- “Rescue” early on, still one of the great post‑punk singles
- “The Cutter” with its Dallas‑TV‑show preamble
- “Bedbugs and Ballyhoo” with those swirling, Doors‑esque keyboards
- “Nothing Lasts Forever” with the Lou Reed medley
- “Villiers Terrace” morphing into “Roadhouse Blues”
- “Bring on the Dancing Horses” – One of my favorites from the 1985 KROQ Countdown.
- “The Killing Moon” closing the main set
- Encores: “Lips Like Sugar” and “Ocean Rain”
And yes — before “The Killing Moon,” Ian introduced it as “the greatest song ever written.” He’s been saying that for years, and honestly, good for him. When you write a song that perfect, you’re allowed to plant your flag.
He once told The Guardian:
“One morning I just sat bolt upright in bed with this line in my head: ‘Fate up against your will…’ I’ve always half‑credited the lyric to God.”
Hearing it live — with Will’s teardrop guitar ringing out and the entire room locked into that slow, tidal rhythm — felt like stepping directly into the song’s mythology. It’s one thing to listen to “The Killing Moon.” It’s another to feel it unfurl in real time.
I should also mention that my wife got me a signed Ian McCulloch sheet‑music print of “The Killing Moon” for Christmas — one of my favorite gifts ever. Seeing the song performed live, after having that framed on my wall for months, added an unexpected emotional punch. It felt like the universe lining up a little Easter egg just for me.
Rain, Reverie, and Whatever Ian Was Going On About
Seeing this show with my wife and son added a layer I didn’t expect. We’ve built a family tradition around concerts, and this one felt like another chapter in that ongoing story. The rain outside, the glow of the balcony lights, the shared glances during Ian’s stories — it all added texture to the night.
Echo & The Bunnymen delivered a show that was atmospheric, funny, musically sharp, and full of the kind of oddball storytelling only Ian McCulloch can get away with. It was our first time seeing them — somehow, after all these years — and it lived up to the mythology I’d built in my head.
Rain, family, Larry Hagman, lumbago, Bowie, Charles Grodin, Doors‑like keyboards, and one of the greatest songs ever written. Not a bad way to spend a Sunday night in Dallas. Echo & The Bunnymen, were my second 80’s legends that I saw live this year for the first time preceded by Colin Hay. Later this year, I’ll see several other new wave artists for the first time like Joe Jackson, Human League, and Haircut 100 among others.
