If there’s one band on this filthy planet that will fuck with you from any angle, leave you sweaty, grinning, and begging for more, it’s the Scissor Sisters.
Formed in 2000, these glorious deviants built their reputation on glitter-bombed disco-punk that doesn’t just flirt with the line — it bends over, spreads wide, and demands you slap it. They reunited in 2024 for one reason only: to deliver the most over-the-top, unapologetically queer, balls-to-the-wall live experience possible. After tearing through festuvaks with Ke$ha in 2025, they’re back at it again this summer, ready to dance Europe into submission while they tour with DURAN DURAN.
Named after the sacred lesbian art of scissoring (use your imagination, pervert), the Sisters have always been beloved by the community because they don’t do subtle. Their shows are soaked in so much innuendo, glitter, and pure sexual chaos that even “PG-13” would file a complaint.
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Jake Shears (yes, the pun is intentional and glorious) struts front and center like the cocky ringmaster he is. Babydaddy thumps the bass, Del Marquis slashes on guitar, and this tour they’ve brought in two absolute goddesses: the geriatric sexpot Amber Martin and the Empress of Brooklyn Burlesque herself — the dangerously beautiful redhead Bridget Barkan. If Bridget doesn’t make your knees weak and your pants tight, you might already be dead.
This is a traveling circus of dirty, danceable debauchery. If you’re not moving by the second verse of any Scissor Sisters song, you’re doing life wrong.
Concert Review
ARTIST: SCISSOR SISTERS
TOUR: TITS OUT, Supporting KE$HA
DATE: July 1 2025
VENUE: Utah First Amphitheater
CITY: Salt Lake City, UT.
They rolled into Salt Lake City fresh off Glastonbury, jet-lagged as hell but dripping with anticipation for their first proper U.S. show since 2012. The stage was dominated by 15-foot neon scissors. The band was dressed like they’d robbed Liberace’s closet after a three-day bender. Tank tops, sequins, and pure flamboyance. There was zero question how fucking gay this show was going to be — and SLC had no idea what was about to hit it.
They opened with “Laura,” that weird Beatles-“Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da” meets Dolly Parton “Nine to Five” fever dream, and from that moment we were transported straight back to the sleaziest, tackiest glory of the ’70s. The crowd lost their goddamn minds.
With all the cheers in the world, they slammed straight into “Better Luck.” Jake then introduced the militant lesbian warrior Bridget Barkan. Without missing a beat she declared, “I’m from the streets of New York City, where we aren’t afraid to get our titties out!” — then ripped her top off, revealing nothing but a giant pair of Scissor Sisters pasties barely covering her magnificent breasts. Amber was prancing around in a tiger-striped getup with a matching G-string and garters. We were barely three songs in and already deep in Lords of Acid / Frank Zappa territory when they hit “Tits On The Radio.”
Then came the country-tinged banger “Take Your Momma Out” — singing about getting your mom drunk on cheap champagne and showing her a proper good time. Amber grabbed the mic and proudly announced, “I’M HORNY!” while telling the story of stealing her mom’s G-string before the show. She tore through “Any Which Way,” begging the crowd how horny they were, then invited some lucky bastard who smelled like cocoa butter to come “Take Me.”
The introductions got even filthier. Bridget hiked up her dress to show off her underwear — complete with embroidered scissors — then told the crowd, “Now put your hands together and your legs apart for… BABYDADDY!” before openly fondling the man’s chest like it was her new favorite toy.
Later they switched into a groove that sounded like “Eye of the Tiger” on molly, which could only mean one thing: their gloriously tacky disco cover of Pink Floyd’s “Comfortably Numb.” Jake was prancing in a yellow onesie while the whole venue sang “There is no pain, you are receding” like it was a Saturday Night Fever fever dream.
Bridget then emerged in a deranged furry face-suit with eyes on her tits and a giant pouty mouth over her crotch, topped with a massive red telephone. She launched into the most unhinged monologue of the night before teaching the entire venue how to do the Kiki.
The peak of glorious absurdity arrived during “I Don’t Feel Like Dancing.” Two comically enormous inflatable breasts rose up and took over half the stage while Babydaddy strummed acoustic. I was seated with my daughter, hoarse, off-key, and laughing my ass off, both of us fully committed to the insanity.
By the time the strobes hit and they launched into an epic “Filthy/Gorgeous,” the place was completely feral. Amber in a sequined choir robe, Bridget going off about margarita salt and grabbing people by the sports bra. The entire band screamed the gospel: “Look at someone next to you and tell them ‘DAMN, you’re gorgeous!’”
They closed it out with the perfect benediction:
“We are Scissor Sisters… and so are you!”
Look, I’ve seen a lot of wild sexually charged shows in my life. But the Scissor Sisters delivered one of the most creative, energetic, joyful, and unapologetically nasty performances I’ve witnessed. They didn’t just play songs — they threw a full-scale queer disco revival tent revival.
Their message is simple and perfect:
Be you. Be proud. Love hard. And dance.
If you get the chance to see them, buy the ticket. You will never regret it. This is the kind of night you’ll still be smiling about months later — sticky, sweaty, and proud.
Tits out, Salt Lake. The Sisters came through and absolutely rocked us senseless.
