Haim and Dora Jar Were Sisters in Harmony at The Bomb Factory

The air inside The Bomb Factory on Thursday night was thick with a unique kind of electricity. It was the halfway point of Haim’s I Quit Tour, and the Dallas stop felt less like a concert and more like a collective exhale. As the tour prepares to sweep through Austin and Houston over the weekend, Dallas was treated to a performance that was part family reunion, part dance party and pure rock and roll catharsis.

The evening’s proceedings were kicked off by Dora Jar, an artist who defies easy categorization. For 40 minutes, she filled the stage with a captivating blend of spunk, welcomed weirdness and impressive physicality. Born Dora Jarkowski, she moves like a glitch in the matrix of comforting indie pop, her body contorting with the music.

One moment she’s bending over backward, arms dangling in a move reminiscent of the infamous spider-walk from The Exorcist, and the next, she’s nearly sinking into the floor in a full split. These aren’t just antics; they are physical manifestations of the anarchy simmering beneath her cool, surf-reverb guitar tones.

Her set began with a moment of disarming honesty. “I was looking for my little shorts and I was running outside just two minutes ago, and then I didn’t do my vocal warm-ups,” she confessed, her voice ringing with a mix of urgency and humor. Instead of rushing, she invited the packed room to participate. “If you want to join me, just jump in when you feel like it. It’s like double Dutch.” What followed was a minute of bendy “hmms” and “huhs,” a shared moment of vulnerability that immediately endeared her to the Dallas crowd. She abruptly stopped, asking with confident charm, “Dallas, you’re doing much better than most other cities, but it’s not to the level yet that we should be, you know.” It was a perfect introduction to her witty and self-aware stage persona.

Her music is a journey through a cosmos of influences, feeling at once like boygenius, Alex G and St. Vincent rolled into one unpredictable package. She introduced her biggest hit with a charming anecdote: “Usually when I would meet people as a kid, they’d say, ‘Oh, like Dora the Explorer.’ And I said, ‘Yes, guys, because I am exploring.'” With that, she launched into “The Explorer,” a track that drifts through vocal ranges and sonic textures, proving her point. The set was a whirlwind of styles—punk, pop, downbeat country and indie rock—all held together by her magnetic presence and the tight musicianship of her band. It was a fun and unpredictable start to the night, setting a high bar for what was to come.

Then came Haim. The anticipation in the room was a tangible thing, stoked by a giant on-stage screen displaying a loading percentage meter. For what felt like an eternity, the meter stalled at 87%, as a curated playlist of pop and hip-hop hits like Mark Morrison’s “Return of the Mack” pumped through the speakers—a breadcrumb trail of the influences woven into Haim’s sound over their four albums. When the house music finally faded and the meter jumped to 100%, the screen filled with crimson words. “I quit,” it declared, followed by a torrent of renunciations: “I quit apologizing,” “I quit regret,” “I quit saying I’m okay.”

The band—sisters Este, Danielle and Alana Haim—emerged as silhouettes behind the screen, launching into “Gone,” the blistering opener from their new album, I quit. The red lights pulsed, casting them as figures trapped in a box, waiting to be unleashed. As the song reached its climax, the screen lifted and the crowd erupted. The trio strode to the edge of the stage, closer and more vibrant, ready to command the room.

What followed was a set that leaned heavily on the new material, a natural choice for a tour supporting the album. While I quit might trade some of the lyrical seduction of their earlier work for a more experimental edge, these songs are live ammunition. “Relationships,” for instance, feels like an extension of LANY’s synth-pop, but Haim injects it with a ’90s hip-hop groove and a funky bassline that got the entire Factory moving. The new album’s emotional core was on full display during “Cry,” a power ballad led by older sister Este that felt raw and deeply personal.

But the night was also a celebration of Dallas itself. Alana, who can also be seen this weekend in Paul Thomas Anderson’s new film One Battle After Another, took on the role of the band’s primary crowd whisperer. She was playful and engaging, at one point introducing a bit of interactive stagecraft with a prop “sign.” “Am I supposed to marry somebody in the crowd?” she asked the sign, which predictably confirmed her fate. “So now that I’m getting married in Dallas,” she declared with a grin, “Should we just stop the tour in Dallas and just stay here forever?” The crowd roared its approval. “My life is changing so fast,” she joked, before asking the most important question: “Whose house am I rooming at tonight?”

This playful banter created a unique intimacy, making the venue feel like a small room. It was a dance party, plain and simple. During “Spinning,” Alana instructed the audience, “Every time I say, ‘spinning around,’ we’re gonna do a little spin… Do it safely.” The Bomb Factory transformed into a swirling wave pool of bodies, a beautiful, dizzying moment of shared joy.

Haim and Their Sibling Love

Yet, amidst the fun, there were moments of profound connection. “Are there any siblings in the crowd tonight?” the sisters asked, before polling the audience for babies, middles and eldest children. It was a nod to their own dynamic, a bond that has been the bedrock of their music since their earliest days. You could see it in the quick, admiring glances they exchanged throughout the night, like when Alana praised middle sister Danielle for putting “some extra sauce on that tonight.” After all these years, the admiration and love they have for each other remains their not-so-secret weapon.

For fans who have followed the band since their Texas debut at Austin City Limits in 2013, the growth is astounding. Gone is the raw, almost desperate energy of their early shows. In its place is a polished confidence, a class that comes from years of honing their craft. They no longer need to work to win over a crowd; they simply play, and their infectious energy does the rest. They’ve found a way to add new layers to their older songs, too. “My Song 5,” from their debut album, was transformed with heavier distortion and a chunkier bassline that sent tremors through the floor.

The true feast, as always, arrived toward the end of their set: the drumline solo. Each sister took her turn on a separate drum kit, their sticks moving in perfect, percussive sync. It’s a moment that showcases not just their individual talent, but their powerful, almost telepathic, bond. It’s the Haim signature, and it never fails to bring the house down.

Haim and Dora Jar created a space for everyone to quit their own regrets, dance their asses off, and, for a few hours, feel like part of the family.

See more photos from Thursday’s show: