November 01, 2025 – Gov’t Mule’s annual “Mule-O-Ween” tradition rolled into town, and this year’s theme promised a full-scale tribute to Aerosmith. For longtime fans of the band’s sprawling Southern-fried jams, that might sound like an odd marriage. But if there’s one thing Warren Haynes and company have mastered, it’s the art of honoring rock history while making it entirely their own.
Photos + Article by @a.j.kinney
The first set stayed rooted in familiar Mule soil, heavy, soulful, and blues-drenched. Opening with “Bad Little Doggie” and “Blind Man in the Dark,” Haynes wasted no time setting the tone: thick riffs, smoky vocals, and that unmistakable mix of swagger and spirituality. By the time the band hit “About to Rage,” the Met had taken on the feel of a southern roadhouse wrapped in velvet.
“Dreaming Out Loud” and “The River Only Flows One Way” carried the band into more atmospheric territory, with Haynes and keyboardist Danny Louis trading melodies like seasoned jazzmen. “Sco-Mule” was a clinic in musicianship tight, fluid, and playful and the closing one-two punch of “Revolution Come, Revolution Go” and “Mule” left the crowd primed for whatever madness the second set would bring.
And madness it was. When the lights dimmed again, the stage looked transformed: mic stands draped in scarves and tapestries in true Steven Tyler fashion, with colors swirling under the spotlights like a living oil painting. The band kicked off the second set with “Make It,” the first deep cut of the night from Aerosmith’s debut, and any doubts about the concept evaporated immediately. Haynes’ gritty vocals fit the material like worn leather. “Walking the Dog” and “Lord of the Thighs” swaggered in quick succession, while “Same Old Song and Dance” hit with a sharp swing that got the balcony moving.
Then came “Seasons of Wither,” the first real breath in the set, a haunting rendition that let Haynes’ voice stretch and ache in all the right places. The crowd, rowdy just moments before, fell into near silence, a rare kind of reverence. From there, the band tore into the heart of Aerosmith’s catalog: “Back in the Saddle,” “Last Child,” and “Sweet Emotion,” each rendered with a thick layer of Mule’s signature muscle. The blues edge of “Dream On” was particularly striking; stripped of its studio gloss, it became something rawer, more human. And when “Walk This Way” hit, The Met turned into a full-blown rock revival, fans on their feet, singing every word, hands in the air like a congregation mid-hymn.
They closed with “Mama Kin,” a defiant grin of a song, before returning for an encore that sealed the night: “Train Kept A-Rollin’,” the Tiny Bradshaw classic that ties Aerosmith back to the roots of rock and roll. Mule tore through it like they were chasing ghosts, and catching every one.
What makes Mule-O-Ween so consistently special is the way Gov’t Mule treats its chosen subject matter. These aren’t cover sets played for novelty or nostalgia, they’re immersive studies in musical DNA. Haynes doesn’t impersonate Steven Tyler or Joe Perry; he channels the essence of their interplay, running it through his own weathered filter of southern rock, blues, and jam sensibility. The band’s decision to deck the stage in scarves and patterns wasn’t costume, it was context. They subtly honored the aesthetic, but the sound remained wholly their own.
For the old Deadheads, jam loyalists, and rock historians scattered through the crowd, this was more than a Halloween afterparty, a familiar conversation between generations. Gov’t Mule turned The Met into a time machine, bridging ’70s Boston swagger with 2020s jam-band soul.
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