Hedwig And The Angry Inch May 2026

Hedwig sang louder. She sang until her throat burned, tell-all tales of Plato’s symposium and the search for the other half—the soulmate torn away by jealous gods. She ripped off her wig, revealing the sweat-slicked head beneath, shedding the costume of the victim.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the announcer’s voice cracked over the feedback, "whether you like it or not... Hedwig!" Hedwig and the Angry Inch

She burst onto the tiny stage, the heels of her boots clicking like a heartbeat against the wood. The band, the Tits, kicked into a snarling guitar riff. Hedwig grabbed the mic stand as if she intended to strangle it. Hedwig sang louder