‘Speaking truth to power’ is a noble idea in principle.
A non-violent political tactic to correct propaganda from authoritarianism, it’s in vogue in the UK right now because of the behaviour of the government.
Yet, it’s also an over-used phrase that is starting to lose meaning by virtue of its ubiquity. Given the current state of the world, countless musical artists are attempting to channel its sentiment in their lyrics, but many are so oblique as to render the exercise pointless.
Not so for She Drew The Gun. Fiercely outspoken, there’s a directness to their lyrics that leave no room for interpretation. Frankly, they don’t mess about, as demonstrated by this performance; while there is plenty going on with the band’s musicianship, Louisa Roach delivers her lyrics with a razor-sharp focus, even as keyboardist Lucy Styles gamely does her best to divide the attention.
Clad in a body suit in contrast to Roach’s (comparatively) understated leopard print parka, Styles is physical manifestation of every note and beat, expressive when playing keys and dancing when not required.
A whirling dervish and the yin to Roach’s yang, Styles is a delight to watch and the two women complement each other beautifully, while Jimmy Moon and Jack Turner (on guitar and bass respectively) stoically go about their business quietly, seemingly knowing there is little point trying to compete.
‘I am the rage of all women condensed to the point of explosion’, Roach proclaims on Behave Myself, the title-track from last year’s third album, and indeed Roach rages against the misogyny that remains rife in contemporary society, although the lyric ‘now I see the bars of this cage’ takes on an unintended new meaning at this particular venue (notoriously, the Fleece has poles in front of the stage, causing restricted views for much of the crowd).
Meanwhile, on the perpetually prescient Poem (now six years old), she rails against those who ‘take away our right to fight those laws for free’, a moving diatribe which on record is gentle but given the full force of the band (from midpoint) when performed live.
Perhaps aware of their capacity for uncomfortable listening, there are a handful of love songs included within the set, although they are dispensed with early on – as Roach wryly observes (‘get the love songs out of the way then we can dismantle capitalism’). The swooning, delicate ode Wolf And Bird provides a moment of intimacy, while Since You Were Not Mine could melt even the iciest of hearts.
But it’s the sort of gig, especially in a city as left-wing as Bristol, where the fires are best fuelled by righteous indignation. Next On The List is a wobbly, gnarly word of warning (as the title suggests) that ‘single parents, benefits, homeless, environmental extremists’ have all been targeted so why shouldn’t we?
Elsewhere, the pulse-raising Pit Pony is a piece of gonzo-garage rock which dissects social media, and Something For The Pain is a paean to the homeless, and a plea for support.
As good as the body of the main set is, as the gig draws to a close the ante ups significantly. On the snappy Class War (How Much), Roach’s voice soars while her bandmates hunker down, followed by a rapid-fire Cut Me Down.
The anthemic Paradise closes the main set before their updated cover of Frank Zappa’s Trouble Every Day percussively pounds the senses. After the aforementioned Poem, and a rollicking Resister Reprise (sounding like a gnarly Kraftwerk down the disco), closer Paradise wraps up proceedings with its fusion of disco, glam, punk and electronica as the band and crowd work as one for a final push.
Furious indignation rarely sounded so good.
Great review !! X
Last track was Panapticon 😉