There was a stretch in the early 2000s when Alien Ant Farm seemed to be everywhere. MTV was still king, “TRL” could turn a song into a cultural event, Napster was blowing a hole through the record business, and the Southern California band somehow managed to thrive right in the middle of all that chaos. Their 2001 album “ANThology” became a defining record of the era, loaded with fan favorites like “Movies,” “Attitude,” “Courage,” “Wish” and “Sticks and Stones,” before their explosive take on Michael Jackson’s “Smooth Criminal” launched them into another stratosphere.
What followed was anything but a straight line. There were massive highs, hard lessons, a life-changing tour bus crash, years of touring and the kind of internal dynamics that can either tear a band apart or somehow bind it together. Along the way came records like “truANT,” “Up in the Attic” and, most recently, 2024’s “~mAntras~,” each marking another stage in the band’s evolution. But if you’ve kept an eye on Alien Ant Farm over the years, you know they never stopped moving forward and doing what they love. In 2026, the band celebrates its 30th anniversary while “ANThology” turns 25, giving frontman Dryden Mitchell, now 50, a pretty remarkable stretch of road to look back on. Through it all, one thing becomes clear in talking with him: even at the height of the madness, they never completely lost sight of who they were.
That same spirit is carrying Alien Ant Farm into whatever comes next. The band’s recent work with Judge & Jury Records has put them alongside an impressive collection of creative forces, including Howard Benson, Neil Sanderson, Mike Plotnikoff and Joe Rickard. It’s a relationship built around challenging ideas rather than protecting them, cutting away what doesn’t work, rewriting what can be better and pushing a song until everybody in the room believes in it. That approach has already produced “Reasons” and continues to shape the new material currently taking form. You gotta love a band that isn’t afraid to take big swings.
In our conversation, Mitchell looks back on the earliest days of discovering music and finding his voice, the whirlwind surrounding “ANThology,” staying grounded when the band was suddenly everywhere, and the strange family dynamic that has kept Alien Ant Farm together all these years. He also opens up about performance anxiety, how his songwriting has changed with age, what success means to him now, and why filling clubs still matters more than chasing numbers on a screen. With new music on the way and another fall tour ahead, Alien Ant Farm isn’t treating these anniversaries like a victory lap. They’re just another marker on a ride that is still very much in motion.
Thanks for taking time out to talk to me today. I’ve been a fan since I first discovered you guys back in the day, so I really appreciate all the blood, sweat and tears you’ve put into this band over the years.
Thank you! This is all necessary and we truly appreciate any kinda push and help that we get from you and whoever is still curious about the band. I’m always astonished that we’ve managed to ride this little wave as long as we have.
I’ve seen some great big bands fall apart just ’cause you can’t stay civil with your people, or you get a little too boozed out and drugged out, and all of a sudden you can’t operate. And so I’m really grateful and stoked that there are a few people out there that still wonder, “Hey, what’s going on with Ant Farm?” And we still get some people out to shows and stuff, so it’s good!
Well, it’s been a while since I’ve talked to you, man. I think the last time we did an interview was 2014, so it’s been ages. That was right around the time of “Always and Forever,” but I’ve never stopped following the journey. There’s one song from that record that has always stuck with me, “Homage.” It’s been in my playlist ever since.
Oh, yeah. That was a cool, weird song. I remember feeling like it was one of those rare moments where I could give myself a little pat on the back for calling out all those bands. It was cool and clever, man. I love that it’s kind of a love song, or a thank-you, to all these people you’ve never even met before, you know? It felt like such a fun little homage, right? [laughs]
I wanna jump all the way back to the past to get things rolling here. Since music has played such a massive role in your life, when did it initially sink its teeth into you?
I think music maybe hits people harder, even people who don’t pursue it as an occupation or a hobby. It’s like music kinda gets tangled into everybody and hits those feels when you’re in those prepubescent kinda feelings of love and all that stuff around the 13- to 15-year-old mark.
I know I was, even before then, listening to Stevie Wonder records, whatever my mom had around the house, reading liner notes, not really knowing what anything meant. I was always curious about that world. My dad played guitar and sang, and I’ve said it in other interviews, but I remember at a really young age watching him do his thing. I would watch him kinda change a room. It might just be a family gathering, but I remember seeing how the room would kinda change. It would get a little more lighthearted and the conversation would break out. It felt like my dad had a lot to do with making something stiff a little looser.
And I thought that was awfully powerful. I don’t even know if I credit the music or the attitude or his vibe, but that guitar, that voice, it was kind of a cool little superpower to just change the mood of a room. It just seemed so cool that it became, like, my forever pursuit. For me, being a shy guy, I always thought it was kinda fancy and cool to have that power of being able to change the vibe of a room.
But that was the early days, just kinda watching my dad. He never really took it to any great levels. I know he did hit some clubs and stuff, even before I was born, but he was always just noodling around the house, and the guitar was always in the backseat. And he was a great singer. I was always attracted to that part, probably from age four or five years old, I guess.
When did you find yourself gravitating toward the lyricism side of things?
I remember getting a guitar around 11 years old or something like that. My dad got me this red, cherry-red Kramer, and I thought it was the coolest instrument ever. And I just started figuring out barre chords and stuff. Eventually, I wanted to start some kinda band or play with some people in the early days of living out here in Southern California, in Riverside.
I’m trying to think what age I was, but a few friends of ours had this band called Dragonfly, and it was kinda silly, but I poured my heart into it. And I always loved female singers, so I found a really good one, at least in our area.
I was writing a lot of that music. We were probably terrible now that I think about it, but we thought we were good. And she was definitely a good, good singer. I remember she could kinda take it or leave it. I think a few of us in the band were a little more serious.
And when she wouldn’t come to rehearsals or even, like, mini little cafe-style shows or gatherings I would put together, she wouldn’t show up. So we’d either go kinda play instrumental for a half an hour, or I remember our drummer saying, “Dude, you wrote these songs anyway. Why don’t you sing?”
So I think it came in an accidental way, just by having someone not show up and me having to sing my own songs by default. I’d still be down to do that, actually. I enjoy writing. It’d be rad to have a better singer articulate and do the things that I like to sit at the desk and create. I think I’m a fluent creator.
I wouldn’t say I’m a guitar player that really knows how to play, or a singer that really knows how to sing, but if you give me, like, an hour with that little musical Rubik’s Cube, I’m gonna spit something out that I wouldn’t be ashamed to show the greatest musicians in the world. And I like that about me. I feel like, with a little time and effort, I’m always pulling ideas out of myself. Great long-winded answer, but—
Oh, no, it’s great. I was curious, since you do have that shy side of yourself, do you remember the point when you started coming out of that shell and were able to start presenting it to other people?
I think when Ant Farm first started, we were supposed to be a side project, I guess. We were kinda cheating on our other bands. We thought, maybe, let’s get some of the best players in our little area and start this thing, kind of moonlighting on our other bands because we wanted to do this project.
And we thought we might wear masks and stuff just because we didn’t really wanna show our identities, and shyness was even in that. Like I said, there’s strength in numbers. Seeing Ty, our old bass player, just going crazy and nuts, I think it allowed us all to do things maybe we wouldn’t do if we were standing on a stage solo.
I think just being a heavy band, moving around and finding where I fit, I realized, “I gotta be a frontman. I don’t know how to be one.” So I guess, at that age, I just said, “Let’s flail around like a fish out of water until you find your groove.”
I’m sure it was awkward as hell, but those were the beginnings of trying to just not be shy. Just close your eyes and go for it for 40 minutes.
Obviously, the band is celebrating its 30th anniversary this year, which is kind of crazy. Take us back to those early days.
We all want love. We all want acceptance. I kinda wanted to be more singer-songwriter style, and getting to play with this band was odd at best in the early days.
I felt like, musically, they were superior to anything I was doing, so I was happy to be invited. But I found my way quickly. I think there’s something unique about me and my voice. In fact, over time, I think I’ve learned to truly appreciate how unique my voice is.
I’d never sounded like the masculine singers of rock and roll, some of whom I really thought of as heroes. The Layne Staleys or the Chris Cornells, these big, bombastic voices. I felt like I had this more fragile-type voice. And in a weird way, I feel like it works with heavy music because it is so different, and there are no rules.
I wish I had accepted that a little more in the early days. I felt like I was just riddled with insecurities, and I still am, but I also have to give myself flowers. I’m 50 years old now, so I’m gonna give myself the pat on the back. You better do it quickly, bro.
Yeah, I know. I just turned 50 this past July, so I’m in the same boat as you.
Well, I’m older than you by a month, so… respect your elders. [laughs]
And it’s so funny you say that about your voice because, really, your voice paired with that heavy music is what kinda sucked me in and set you apart from so many other bands. I gravitated to it.
Yeah. I wanted to be that bigger rock singer. I felt like maybe… I never really tried it on any recordings that anyone would ever hear, but I certainly was trying to manipulate or change my timbre and get a little more husky and heavy, at least behind closed doors, to figure out, “What is my style?”
And then I just said, “You know what, dude? You’re only gonna do what you can. Don’t manipulate this too much or think about it too much.” Don’t be scared to… Again, I always gravitated toward singers or the more fragile, softer side of music. And I was like, “You know what?”
Big rock bands do love songs all the time. It’s nothing new. But at least my version of this was, like, don’t be scared to just go there. Although I was constantly worried about it.
“ANThology” turns 25 this year. As everything started taking off, how did you stay grounded?
Yeah. I think with that weird rocket launch of success comes very busy days, and they’re just stacked on each other. Just keeping up with a calendar like that is enough to keep you out of trouble. I mean, we were so crazy. We were all giddy and excited about all the debauchery of rock and roll, but I think even just that schedule kinda kept us from getting too crazy or out of the lane.
And again, when you have success like that, your calendar’s gonna get full, and you can either be a flaky weirdo about it or… At least we took that bit of it seriously. It was time to work, and I think we put in the hours before we even got signed. But when it came time to actually do it, I’m just happy that we took it seriously.
When you think back to making ‘ANThology,’ before you knew what it would become, what stands out most about that period?
It was this labor of love, and we were just young. What you don’t know is the coolest part. We weren’t old enough to say, “Oh, that might not work.” I was lucky enough to have musicians in Alien Ant Farm who are pretty studied and can lay down these beautiful beds. So I felt like I was in a unique, lucky position to have great music out of the gate. I was like, “Wow, this sounds like nu metal and The Police all just in this weird tornado of sound.”
And that also made me feel a lot of pressure because I was like, “This is instrumentally massive.” Sometimes the only thing people listen to is that lyric or that vocal. So, yeah, I spent a lot of time pacing around thinking, “Okay, you gotta hook this out. These guys lobbed one up for you.” I think there was a lot of competitiveness between the four of us, for better or worse. I definitely felt the pressure in a fun way, too. But I think having three other people dishing it out and kinda waiting for you to deliver is the best thing that can be.
That record… It was weird to walk into NRG, one of the greatest studios in the world, still to this day, and see Sade records on the wall and feel totally undeserving. I got real clammy and weird when I walked into that room and saw some of those platinum records.
But once we started, everyone there wanted us to succeed. So I kinda got those weird anxiety wiggles out fairly early. And, yeah, it was fun to hear these songs that I’d only heard us record in the garage with a ghetto blaster.
We’d have to throw a sweater over the top of it just so that teeny mic could handle how loud we were riffing. That’s what I’d have to listen to in my shitty car and come up with vocal lines. So to hear that at, like, the greatest studio on the planet a few months later was a true shock. And it also felt like, “Wow, these songs deserve to be here.” That’s the crazy part.
You don’t last 30 years as a band by accident. What do you attribute that longevity to, not only as a band, but as a brotherhood? You talked earlier about pushing each other creatively.
Yeah. It’s weird. Some days I don’t know how, because we still rub each other the wrong way. The older you get, we just try and keep it civil, man. We have a long history of some really, really great times, and we have a lot of drama in our history.
I guess it’s like this weird little dysfunctional family where we can put the knives away, do what we need to do and do right by our brand. We created this thing so long ago, and the curiosity is still there for Ant Farm. We just got back from a ton of festivals in Europe, playing with some of the heaviest bands you can think of.
German festivals just love that heaviness, and to be able to go there and sing songs like “Movies” and not get pelted… I was stoked that we were almost like a breath of fresh air for some of those massive crowds that were enduring guttural screams all day long.
We love that kinda music, so it’s still astonishing to me that we can swim in those circles because we really aren’t that heavy. But we just kinda feel like we can squeeze it out. So we keep up. We try to.
You just put out the deluxe edition of “ANThology.” Personally, I picked up the vinyl and I’m pretty excited to have it available in that format. What was it like revisiting that era and putting this whole package together for the fans?
I just saw the vinyl maybe a week and a half ago. We were somewhere in Sweden at this little backstage area, and there were four of the vinyls sitting on the table.
And it was cool. It kinda jarred me into thinking about it. It feels like a whole other life ago. I went to our guitar player’s house yesterday, early in the morning after I took my kid to school, and he’s got two pallets of vinyl in his studio.
We just started cracking them open and signing them yesterday morning. So it was like, throw on a pot of coffee, scratch the dogs’ bellies and sign some vinyl. It’s great to make money doing this, but I think it’s just rad, again, that people are still curious or still have an affinity, a soft spot in their heart for Ant Farm. That’s the coolest part.
Because when it comes down to it, and you’re doing projects like this, putting out this vinyl, by the time everyone gets a slice of that pie, it might actually generate some dollars, but when it gets all shuffled around, no one’s killing it by any means. So I’m even more stoked just to have that product out there for people who care. I recently got into vinyl. It’s been around forever, and I’ve had records, but more recently I got into it with a decent little setup. So to have “Mantras,” the last record we did, on vinyl, and now to have my own band in my vinyl collection, that’s awesome!
What sparked that interest in vinyl, and what’s the experience been like? Anything you’ve really enjoyed revisiting or discovering?
I have to chill out when I go to the record store because I have to remind myself, “Okay, you know you can hear all this for free.” I mean, music’s so accessible. But then I find my little gems here and there. Lenny Kravitz’s “Mama Said,” to me, on vinyl is probably the most flawless record ever. I even went down the rabbit hole with The Beatles’ “White Album,” which is my favorite record of all time. I got the 1980s remaster, and there were discrepancies about which version of that record is the best. I had my AirPods on at 2:00 in the morning listening to random audiophile nerds on YouTube saying, “That one sucks. This one’s better.” Eventually I was like, “Why don’t you just buy the damn record and stop trying to find the one that’s great?” Because, really, it is all about the song.
You know what I just got was Smashing Pumpkins’ “Gish,” but I got the “Gish” sessions, so it’s alternative versions from while they were making it. I haven’t even listened to it yet because I’m kinda goofy like that. Even with television shows, I think I waited like three years before I started “Breaking Bad” because I knew it was gonna be rad and I wanted to wait for whatever reason. That album was so big for me as a kid, so I don’t know what I’m waiting for. It’s almost like having this rad bottle of wine and you’re waiting for some monumental moment. I think it might just be some night where everything’s cool and I’ll throw on those “Gish” sessions. But yeah, I’ve got a nice little pile. Nothing too crazy. I don’t have too many records quite yet.
In terms of new music, I know you guys have joined forces with Judge & Jury for the next chapter. How did that partnership take shape, and what are you looking at moving forward?
Yeah, I think we were playing a festival here in the States. I can’t remember which one it was, but a lot of the dressing rooms are little compounds. Each band has its own little container, and there’s a little quad area. So I set up a little campsite back there next door to Three Days Grace. I was kinda just shooting the shit with Neil, the drummer from Three Days Grace, and told him I had respect for him, and vice versa. We were just chatting like nothing, and we traded numbers for whatever reason.
We just communicated well that day, and later, however many days later, he’s like, “Yo, I have Howard Benson on the line.” I’ve loved Howard’s work since I was a little shaver and all the bands he’s been a part of. So that’s kinda how it started. We weren’t even looking for it. It just came about through conversation, like, “We gotta get you guys in here when you have time off the road,” and that kinda thing.
We’ve been doing three- and four-song chunks at a time. I think we probably have about nine songs done, and Howard’s just kinda waiting for two more bangers. He wants it heavy and more active, even heavier than maybe we wanna be. I’m for it. It’s kinda cool to have that challenge. I wanna be a yes guy to what our producer’s asking for. I write songs all the time in my room that are way more tame, and he doesn’t want that. I understand why. We’re out there playing those festivals in the summertime with those big German heavy crowds. They’re gonna smash my guitar like the scene in “Animal House” if I break out my shit. So maybe his plan is better than mine when it comes to rock and roll.
What’s the process been like for you guys on this one? How does it compare to what you’ve been doing over the past few years?
We gotta hand over the reins a little bit, so it’s definitely taken a left turn. You have to have slightly thicker skin for it. Howard’s come back to me and said, “These harmonies are lame,” or just cut right to it. Let’s not dress this up. What are the bones? Because if these bones aren’t good, then you can dress it up all you want. He’s complimentary at the same time. He’s like, “Dude, you’re rad. You know how to do this. Now let’s cut the fat. I want you to rewrite this. It’s good, but make it great.”
And then slowly you go, “You know what? Just do him the solid and do it. This is what you do, man. Write a whole other version of this song. What’s the big deal?” I’m not gonna die on this hill. If I truly felt something should stay, then maybe I’d chime in, but I wanna appease the guy and do right by him. Again, we just did a whole record, “Mantras,” that we’re super proud of and love, and we did every single part of that by ourselves without any outside perspective. I love it, and we can go back to that, too. But right now, this is where we’re at and this is what we’re doing. I hope and pray that it yields a big, fat rock hit for us.
As a fan of your work and the band, it’s cool to see you guys aren’t afraid to take some big swings, change things up and keep pushing forward instead of resting on your laurels.
Yeah, dude. We can put out a very technical, weird-sounding prog Ant Farm record, and I’m confident of it. So it’s almost a weirder challenge to have someone in the room say yay or nay. It can be frustrating, but it’s like, yeah, dude, he’s trying to get you uncomfortable.
Maybe great music doesn’t come from being uncomfortable, but I think great music comes from pressure. We did it to ourselves before. So now it’s another guy in the room, or two or three guys in the room, who wanna see if they can bend your attitude a little bit and see if you can produce something a little bit grander, I guess.
After three decades of writing, what does your creative vault look like these days? How much unreleased material have you accumulated?
Yeah, I have tons of hard drives. Some of that stuff never sees the light of day. We obviously have our masters and stuff that Mike, our drummer, keeps pretty well organized. But yeah, everyone’s shared stuff over the years.
I took a hard drive with me on tour, like, three tours ago, and I lost it on the first day. I remember being so bummed because, again, it was nothing anyone had ever even heard, but I knew what was in there. There were so many… I’m like five years sober now, but there were so many drunk nights of scribbling, and they’re basically audio doodles, for lack of a better word.
I was just more sad because that’s always a rad one to go sifting through. It’s forgotten riffs and vocal lines and stuff. I remember wanting to leave that tour just because my hard drive was gone. I knew it wasn’t, you know, all that, but it meant something to me.
Congratulations on the five years sober, too. That’s no small thing.
Yeah, yeah. Cheers!
At this stage of your life, what keeps you coming back to the blank page?
There’s still just an ebb and flow. You feel it one day and maybe you don’t the next. It’s funny because I tell myself this all the time. I walk up this hill with my dogs every day, and I don’t dare skip it. It’s only a few miles round trip, but it’s steep enough and long enough that you don’t wanna do it. But I just do it. And every time you come down that hill, you feel better, dude. Every time. The tension goes away, the anxiety slips away, and your perspective on something that was gnawing at you gets a little better.
I feel like creatively it’s the same thing. If you wanna get the juices flowing, you literally just have to sit down at the desk. Every single time I do, something cool happens. But somehow I don’t learn that, and I’ll stay away for more days than I should. Sometimes a week or 10 days goes by, and I’m wondering what I’m agitated about. Then it’s like, “Oh, you haven’t really watered the plant. You haven’t fed yourself or fed that blank page.”
It might not yield the song that’s gonna make the record, but flexing and using that muscle is so important. If anything, it’s like coming down that hill. It’s this weird exhale that you need. I should do more of it. I know that.
You guys are heading back out on tour. At this point, what’s the high watermark for you when it comes to live performance?
I don’t know what we have in store as far as the live show, but we keep it tight, man. I care so much about it. I still get nerves unbelievably, and it’s not really nervousness. It’s more this anxiety because I just want it to go well. There are people there who, maybe, this was their summer record or whatever, and I want it to sound like that.
When you’re 50 and you wrote some of these songs when you were 22 years old, and again, I have this voice, it’s like, “Please, don’t make tonight the night everyone finds out you’re a fraud, dude. You gotta come through again.”
And it always works out, I guess. Maybe not always, but it’s weird. Why do you twist yourself in knots? You just had a rad show last night, and now you’re back doing vocal warm-ups, convincing yourself you’re the worst singer that ever lived. You can get over that a little bit, bro.
How do you prepare for a tour these days?
It goes back to that hill! It’s stamina. I feel like I can gas myself out with anxiety. I can wear myself out in two or three songs, and that set list looks pretty damn long if you do that.
Honestly, preparing for a tour is almost just getting through those first couple of shows. It is like riding a bike in a sense, but you almost can’t get too excited. I just try to stay as healthy as I can out there, drink as much water as I can, stay out of my own head, have some good shows and remember that it’s fun.
I asked you this back in 2014, when your kids were still very young: Looking at it now, how has fatherhood changed the way you see yourself as a songwriter?
The love songs don’t have to be attached. They don’t have to be love/hate songs. It’s just pure love with a child. You don’t have the complications of a love life. Sometimes those love songs can be almost traumatic.
I don’t know if they changed my perspective too much as far as songwriting is concerned. I’ve written a couple songs, maybe about my daughter, but I don’t know that they’d ever see an Ant Farm record or anything. They’ve changed me completely, but I don’t know if they’ve changed me in a creative way.
Is there anything outside Alien Ant Farm you still want to explore, musically or otherwise?
Yeah. I jam with this harpist a lot. His name’s Christian Tierbach, and we’ve recorded quite a few little things here and there. We always threaten to start a band, well, if you can call a project with just harp and vocals a band. That’s something I almost wish I had started doing sooner. We haven’t released anything but that’s one of my favorite things to do, just kinda see what me and the harpist can come up with at the desk.
What can the 50-year-old version of you do as a songwriter that the 25-year-old version couldn’t?
I really love our last “Mantras” record. I think it’s so cool and mature in so many ways. I feel like I can communicate better. One of the cool things about my style back then was that it was very cryptic. My lyrics made a whole lot of nonsense, but in a weird, roundabout way, that was my favorite thing. I think I communicate better now, and my lyrics make a tad more sense, I guess.
I also don’t settle for the first thing anymore. I think, “You can beat this.” Just because you have this cool idea and you tracked it and put work into it, don’t be lazy. Is this the best thing? Sometimes you go full circle and come back to that first idea, but I’m more prone now to try and beat it.
Maybe it’s just trying to solve that Rubik’s Cube or solve the riddle. Just because you put it on the page or tracked it doesn’t mean the riddle was solved, dude. If you feel it, maybe you should kick the castle down and build it again. I need to do more of it.
As fans, what’s the best way we can support the band and help keep this thing moving forward?
It’s the live show. That’s what keeps us going. I mean, you told me you just bought the vinyl, which I totally appreciate, but honestly, if people stop coming to our shows, then it becomes, “Remember Ant Farm?”
So yeah, filling up those small clubs and larger clubs is what keeps it alive. There’s still a curiosity out there for us, and I appreciate it so much. Again, we’ve managed to ride this wave way longer than some really big bands have. For whatever reason, they fell apart. Maybe we’re sadomasochists for enduring each other, but here we are.
We’ve still got a full calendar. It could be fuller, and it could be milder, but we’re doing pretty good!
It’s been great catching up with you, Dryden. I think I speak for a lot of Alien Ant Farm fans when I say that your music has been there through some pretty unique periods in our lives, and I can’t thank you guys enough for keeping the momentum going. You’ve been an amazing part of the soundtrack to our lives.
Same here. While I don’t listen to much Ant Farm, my wife or my daughter will put on a “Truant” song, and I’ll almost lose it, man. We did that one with the DeLeo brothers, Robert and Dean. When I hear song, I’ll remember being in a room with STP and writing that stuff. It’ll just hit me, like, “Dude, you went horseback riding with Dean DeLeo, and that night this lyric came right after that.” It’s incredible. I feel like I forget all of this stuff happened. It’s rad that I created my own soundtrack to my life, which is intense!
We covered a lot of ground today, and I’m sure fans are gonna want to know: Is there a timeline for the new music?
I think we might be dropping a big, fat song in late September, and that’ll be cool. The record’s not done, but we might drop one or two songs just to do it.
Well, that’s all I needed to hear!
All right, dude. Thank you for your time!
For more on Alien Ant Farm, visit the band’s official website and follow them on Instagram, Facebook and X for the latest news, music and updates from the road.
Alien Ant Farm will also celebrate 25 years of “ANThology” with a fall tour alongside Scarhaven, kicking off September 21 following the band’s September 19 appearance at Louder Than Life and running through October 17. Check out the band’s current tour dates and ticket information and catch them live when they roll through your city.
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