“That’s it from us,” announced Micahel Gira after Swans’ September 4, 2025 show at the Union Transfer in Philly. It was a poignant quote and was probably meant as a sly double entendre, being that it was the end of the band’s two hour set but also was the first show of the band’s final tour in their current full band incarnation. After this jaunt, of which the Philly show was the kick off, Gira has stated that Swans will be pared down into a smaller, and possibly acoustic only, unit.

Well, it was a daring and hell of a way to close out the current era of the band. In perhaps a bold strike, the band played seven extended tracks (but in reality, not extended for Swans who have multiple songs clocking in at over 30 minutes), of which six had never been performed live. Two songs, the opener and the closer, had never even been released on record before. Only “A little God in my hands” had appeared on stage before.

Of course, the band was frikkin loud. It is the Swans. Earplugs were an absolute must. Most of the songs have a slow burn growth, starting out kind of loud and gradually growing and growing to deafening volume. Meanwhile, as the volume increased, the band would add synths that sounded like a Roman Catholic chorus, or maniacal guitar crash sounds, or rumbling percussion that, interestingly, did give the whole procession a sort of religious feeling… or maybe spiritual. Each Swans song seemed to make it a point to sound huge and ascendant, and as the band built off a sort of repetitive rumble, with each rotation getting a little faster, a little more chaotic, and a little more loud. Gira and crew seem to use volume itself as an instrument as much as the tools at their hands, and you could literally feel the power reverberate through your chest, eyes, and ear plugs.

Interestingly, Gira took to the stage in a very matter of fact matter. He walked out, sat down at a bench, and explained that the band was going to play mostly new tunes. Being that Swans is such a cosmically heavy band, I sort of expected that “sage from the secret mountains” affectation used by Al Cisneros, Steve Von Till, or Sunn. Instead, Gira’s approach was more like if you go to an art gallery and there’s some guy there playing a flute or something and he explains in detail as to why he chose this specific extract from Stravinsky and how he modified it and what we can expect on every note. Yet, the main difference being that the while the flute guy plays you smile politely and check your phone to see if that rare Melvins record popped up on discogs, and with the Swans you strap in while an energy bore is smashed through your ribcage.

Likewise, Gira himself had a unique stage presence. During the first song, he spun while sitting on the bench, with the rest of the band set in a semi-circle around him. At another song, where he didn’t actually have a lot of playing to do, he got up and shimmy-shaked, looking equal parts shaman and equal parts monkey-man. During “Little Mind,” as the song came to a few bolting crescendos, he shot his hand out with each crest, like he was trying to cast some unseen energy onto his target, which was equal parts the audience and the band themselves.

Multiple times he did struggle with sound issues- at one point his mic totally conked out. Gira was understandably upset and made it clear on stage. Though, being that he has been in the Swans for almost 45 years, I was surprised that such a veteran didn’t roll with the punches more. I specifically remember a Morning Glory show at a bike shop in Santa Cruz in which the entire power cut out, so the band just rushed forward anyways letting the audience generate most of the actual sound. Still, maybe Gira’s reaction signifies how deeply this music means to him. That is, even though Swans music can sound huge and messy, there is a very specific message that Gira wants to communicate. Well, from my perspective, even with the sonic hurdles, he did convey it and he conveyed it in a way that no other band can. Is it sad that, with the band morphing after this tour, this is the end of the message for now? Yes. But, a certain melancholy is in all of the Swans material-but what’s also here is the vague notion that there is far more out there in the expanse.

The opener was a nice little surprise. It was none other than Annie Anxiety from the early Crass scene, the On-U soundsystem scene, and the New York scene. She was paired with long time collaborator Paul Wallfisch and duo crafted about 40 minutes of goth cabaret. Annie switched between singing, poetry, and spoken word while Wallfisch played cold, creepy, understated lines on a synth. It sounded like Judy Garland in a post-apocalyptic subway, which is what I think they were trying to convey. Perhaps like Swan’s huge pummeling which is as new a sit is a subconscious callback to the earliest days of rock and roll, Little Annie took a form from the 30s ands 40s and made it sound like it came out of Bladerunner.