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| Al Jourgensen of Ministry @ the Warfield (Photo: Kevin Keating) |
Walking into the Warfield Theater last night for The Squirrely Years Tour, you knew exactly what you were getting into if you've been paying attention—but that didn't make it any less surreal. Die Krupps, My Life with the Thrill Kill Kult, and Ministry were headlining, but this wasn't going to be the usual industrial carnage we've come to expect from Uncle Al.
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| Ministry's Al Jourgensen @ the Warfield (Photo: Kevin Keating) |
For the first time since Reagan was president, Al Jourgensen dragged his ancient synth-pop ghosts out of their graves, dusting off songs from With Sympathy (1983) and Twitch (1986)—albums he'd buried so deep that most fans figured they'd never see daylight again. Uncle Al had sworn a blood oath never to play this material live, but here we were, witnessing what might be his final act of musical archaeology before hanging up his industrial crown for good.
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| Ministry @ the Warfield (Photo: Kevin Keating) |
The catalyst? His current bandmates ambushed him last year with rough sketches of these forgotten tracks, reimagined through four decades of sonic evolution. The result became The Squirrely Years—a modern industrial rebirth of Al's Arista and Sire Records days, when record executives still thought they could cage this wild animal in a synth-pop box.
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| Al Jourgensen of Ministry @ the Warfield (Photo: Kevin Keating) |
Let me lay my cards on the table—I discovered Ministry during their Mind is a Terrible Thing to Taste era, when Uncle Al had already escaped the major label prison from Arista Records and was building his wall of sonic destruction. To me, Ministry was always that grinding wall of guitar brutality, pounding drums, and Al's sandpaper vocals delivering politically charged haymakers. With Sympathy? That was skip-button material, something I'd accidentally put on and immediately eject like a bad date.
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| Al Jourgensen of Ministry @ the Warfield (Photo: Kevin Keating) |
So yeah, I had morbid curiosity about this whole thing. Fighting South Bay rush hour traffic to watch my favorite industrial overlord potentially embarrass himself? It felt like rubbernecking at a highway accident—awful, but impossible to look away from.
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| Paul D'Amour of Ministry @ the Warfield (Photo: Kevin Keating) |
But first, let's talk about the warm-up acts who reminded us what we came for originally.
Die Krupps hit the stage first, and damn if they didn't bring exactly what you'd expect from a traditional Ministry opener—hard-charging industrial metal that felt like getting punched by a robot. First time seeing these guys, and they delivered the goods. They promised they'd be back, and I'm holding them to that threat.
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| Groovie Mann of My Life with the Thrill Kill Kult @ the Warfield (Photo: Kevin Keating) |
My Life with the Thrill Kill Kult followed, and this marked at least my sixth or seventh encounter with TKK since the mid-90s—easily the biggest venue I'd seen them conquer. These guys were my teenage rebellion soundtrack, the dangerous uncles who taught me about "The Devil Does Drugs" and convinced me they were "Kooler Than Jesus." If you needed a band to terrify your parents, TKK was your weapon of choice -- at least they were mine!
Groovie Mann and Buzz McCoy, backed by longtime bassist Mimi Star and drummer Justin Bennett, delivered a solid 40-minute greatest hits parade. But something felt... tamed. Maybe it was the Warfield's size diluting their usual intimate club energy, or maybe the years have mellowed their edge. Groovie seemed anchored to center stage instead of prowling like the funky predator I remembered from smaller venues. Still sounded fantastic, but the dangerous electricity felt dimmed.
Fun fact: Groovie's been in Al's orbit since the early 80s, starting in Jourgensen's first band and sharing Wax Trax! Records DNA—making this whole evening feel like a twisted family reunion.
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| Ministry's Paul D'Amour @ the Warfield (Photo: Kevin Keating) |
After intermission, Al's current ministry—Cesar Soto and Monte Pittman on guitars, Paul D'Amour on bass, Pepe Clarke Magaña behind the kit, and John Bechdel on keyboards—took their positions around a center-stage cross microphone stand adorned with blood-red roses. The symbolism wasn't subtle: we were about to witness either a resurrection or a crucifixion.
"Are you ready to hop in the hot tub time machine?" Al growled, and honestly, none of us were prepared for what came next.
They opened with "Work for Love."
"Work for Love."
When was the last time you heard Al Jourgensen sing about love? The same throat that gave us "Just One Fix" and "So What?" was now crooning, "I said, 'girl, hey, do it if you dare; where I'd like to go our love will flare.'" The cognitive dissonance was absolutely staggering—like watching Godzilla perform Shakespeare.
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| Dez Cuchiara of Ministry @ the Warfield (Photo: Kevin Keating) |
What struck me most was the complete 180-degree transformation in Al's songwriting journey. These early tracks read like love letters and poetry instead of the gut-punch anthems we know him for, yet the fundamental pop architecture remained solid throughout his evolution. The verse-chorus-verse structure that would later house his industrial manifestos was already there, just dressed in completely different clothes.
The band worked through both early albums almost exclusively, throwing in a handful of covers including—and I'm not making this up—Rod Stewart's "Do Ya Think I'm Sexy?" as their closer, originally released under Al's Revolting Cocks side project. Because apparently this night needed to get even more surreal.
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| Monte Pittman & Dez Cuchiara of Ministry @ the Warfield (Photo: Kevin Keating) |
This was pure musical archaeology—a once-in-a-lifetime glimpse into an alternate universe where Ministry remained synth-pop darlings. With Al's retirement looming and one final album with original bassist Paul Barker still in the works, this felt like witnessing something that should be impossible.
The tour wraps soon, and if you missed it, you've probably missed your only shot at this particular brand of beautiful madness. When Uncle Al returns for his final victory lap, we'd better match his decades of ferocity with our own energy—because legends like this don't come around twice.
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| Al Jourgensen of Ministry @ the Warfield (Photo: Kevin Keating) |
Here's to the upcoming Ministry album, the return of that crushing wall of sound, and sending Al Jourgensen into retirement with the same intensity he's given us all these years. The hot tub time machine was wild, but I'm ready for one last ride on the industrial steamroller.
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