L7
House of Blues
October 14, 2026
L7 has always been a challenging band to pin down. Self-described punk rockers at heart, their heyday coincided with the rise of grunge, despite a fairly loose association with the genre (and despite being from sunny Los Angeles, not gloomy Seattle). The similarities exist, particularly in L7’s bottom-heavy sound, sludgy guitars, and no bullshit lyrics.
They formed in 1985. And not counting a 13-year hiatus beginning in 2001, the founding duo of Donita Sparks (lead vocals, guitar) and Suzi Gardner (lead guitar, vocals) has remained a constant presence. And drummer Demetra “Dee” Plakas has been on board almost as long (since 1989). Sadly, original bassist Jennifer Pinch passed away earlier this year. Janis Tanaka, who briefly played with L7 in the ’90s, is back on board in her stead.
“Janis Tanaka, she likes to rock-a,” as Sparks assured us.
The band’s last big tour was a 30th anniversary celebration of their breakout album, Bricks Are Heavy, in 2022. They skipped Houston that go-round, but last night’s setlist for at House of Blues still leaned, well, heavily on that release.
And almost more than any other band, merely listening to an L7 album doesn’t compare with the live experience. Their shows are irreverent, occasionally chaotic, yet still admirably cohesive. The bulk of their songs are 2.5-3 minute slices of pure aggression. And they’re relatable, with a healthy chunk simply devoted to people who piss them off (“Feed My Fire,” “Shitlist,” “Mr. Integrity”).
Thus was the stage set for the band’s “Last Hurrah” tour. They opened with “Deathwish,” a song about poor choices, for lack of a better phrase. That led into the semi-apologetic “Andres,” one of three cuts from 1994’s gnarly Hungry For Stink. There wasn’t much banter to this point, aside from Sparks saying, “Hello, Houston” and reacquainting us with Tanaka.
That changed with the introduction to “Wargasm,” with Sparks admitting, “We didn’t want to play this one.” Current events (hell, the last decade) have worked against them, and the band briefly engaged with the cries of “Fuck Trumpty Dumpty” by insisting the current President’s “great fall” would be coming soon.
So it was probably for the best that the next selection was a “song about partying” (“Off the Wagon”). After which Gardner thanked us for coming out on a Wednesday. “You left the house!” Clearly, she understands the struggle. Sparks followed up by telling us, “Houston’s always been very very good to L7,” as we were the first Texas city they ever played (“In 1988? 1987?”). Setlist.fm says it was the former, at Axiom. I missed that show, but in my defense, I was still in college elsewhere.
Onstage, the band is effortless. Gardner is a sneaky excellent guitar player, and provides some of the nastier vocal output (“Shove” comes to mind). Tanaka holds the line on bass, and Sparks with her signature Flying V is one of those natural front persons — like Cheap Trick’s Robin Zander — who’s effortlessly at ease in front of a crowd.
But my favorite has probably always been Plakas, who quietly (in terms of stage presence) really earns that “Goddess of Thunder” sobriquet. There aren’t many rock drummers as inconspicuously badass as Plakas, barely visible behind her kit, but a monstrous presence all the same. And if you don’t believe me, listen to the intro to “Freak Magnet.”
The biggest audience response of the night (to that point) was set closer “Shitlist,” prefaced by “Slide” and Sparks asking us if we “liked that shit.” We do, but the song seemed oddly truncated for no apparent reason. And I say “to that point” because the response to the first encore, “Pretend We’re Dead,” was even more enthusiastic.
“Pretend We’re Dead,” Sparks said, was a song instigated by the alarming apathy they noticed among their friends. As she reminded us, “If we don’t vote, we’re fucked.” And lest you think these are empty platitudes, recall that L7 founded Rock For Choice way the hell back in 1991. They’ve been in the trenches long enough to know what’s at stake.
I probably use the phrase “it was over all too soon” in concert reviews more often than I should. But man, I would’ve been happy to spend another hour on a school night with these ladies. L7 was never much of a chart presence, always working the fringes while lesser, more camera-friendly acts hogged the spotlight. Their influence, however, is undisputed. And last night’s HOB gig was a reminder of how much ass they’ve kicked for almost 40 years. I hope I never make their shit list.
Personal Bias: I’m enough of an L7 fan — and a movie buff — to know that one of the most egregious errors in Natural Born Killers was the fact that a diner in the middle of BFE would have “Shitlist” on their jukebox.
The Crowd: Punk’s not dead, but it’s definitely AARP eligible.
Overheard In The Crowd: “I have a fan in my purse!”
Random Notes App Dump: “Apparently ‘Flying V’ stands for ‘Flying Vagina.'”
SET LIST
Deathwish
Andres
Fuel My Fire
Off the Wagon
Uppin’ the Ice
Shove
Mr. Integrity
Bitter Wine
Drama
Must Have More
Bad Things
Livin’ Large
Freak Magnet
Slide
Shitlist
Encore
Pretend We’re Dead
Fast & Frightening
