With the rise of far-right extremism all over the world, Lambrini Girls' headlining show at the Pearl on Friday night (May 16) was an expression of community care for anyone who feels at risk. The Brighton punk rockers did their best to ensure a safe space for revelry, and during the few times people fell out of line, singer-guitarist Phoebe Lunny and bassist Lilly Macieira kept their asses in check.
As always, singer Taylor Zantingh of the night's first opener, Vancouver four-piece PISS, greeted the audience by disclosing trigger warnings about their work, which addresses violence — sexual violence in particular. She made sure everyone knew where exits and free earplugs were located. "Protect yourselves. You will want them," she said. "I'm going to yell at you for 20 minutes now."
A palpable atmospheric shift occurs when PISS strike their first note. The grinding sheet metal noise and howling hardcore fury of "time loop at hot slit" and "a little girl's horse craze betrays her," as well as the cathartic slow-building explosion of "blocking a scene you can't remember," seized the audience's attention. During "how can you act opposite to this emotion," Zantingh twisted and twirled in fits, released her most piercing scream and dropped to her knees, panting as she repeated the titular question until the band had stopped playing and she ran out of breath.
PISS's songs are visceral, but seeing her sing and shout until her eyes bulge, seeing her wipe her eyes and brows in exhaustion after each song, shows how much of herself she pours into her physically and emotionally draining performances. That's not to take anything away from guitarist Tyler Paterson, bassist Gavin Moya or drummer Garreth Roberts, who conjure the enveloping sounds in which everyone in the room loses themselves.
Next, Australia's Party Dozen made their Vancouver debut. To say the Sydney duo, singer-saxophonist Kirsty Tickle and drummer Jonathan Boulet, left an impression on their unfamiliar audience would be an understatement. Party Dozen's sound largely resembled a metal band stripped of everything but the drums then handed a sax. Their mostly instrumental maelstrom of propulsive psychedelic jazz could have moved mountains.
It hit extra hard every time Tickle sang through the bell of her sax, like on "Money & the Drugs." Unsurprisingly, given its title, the song brought some of the band's most upbeat party energy. Through a bevy of effects pedals, including buckets of delay, they conjured a chugging swirl of sound — perfect conditions for their cover of Suicide's haunting classic, "Ghost Rider."
With touring drummer Misha Phillips in tow, Lambrini Girls immediately cranked the energy to full throttle. During set opener "Big Dick Energy," Lunny got everyone to crouch as low as they could go, then jump at the song's final chorus.
From BDE to BDS, Lunny called for continued action towards a free Palestine. To anyone who wasn't down with that, "Get the fuck out of this show!" she demanded before excoriating the purported greatness of Britain on "God's Country." Though governments obviously don't do enough to prevent sexual violence (in fact, they often enable it), Lambrini Girls noted that music scenes, which tend to pat themselves on the back for being a community and therefore a safe environment, don't do enough either.
To prove her point, she asked the audience if there was a problem in their scene to a chorus of affirmative cheers. "Even if only one person in this room said yes, there's a problem. Men don't listen to women and queer people. Men listen to other men," she said, then rolling into the sarcastic toast to music scene men, "Boys in the Band."
Lunny showed up to the Pearl in boxing trunks, ready for a fight, but whipping up unmitigated joy is as much a part of the band's mission as activating audiences. Often, Lambrini Girls accomplished both at the same time. They led plenty of call-and-responses, like "Fuck! Fascism!" and "Fuck! Trump!" Ahead of the cop-condemning "Bad Apple," Lunny rallied fans to complete her "A! C!" with "A! B!" asking, "Do you fucking hate your police, Vancouver?"
Leading into the scrappy garage rock nugget "Help Me I'm Gay," Lunny called for the house lights and for fans to open up the floor. "Put your hand up if you identify as queer! We're going to get to know each other now." She then climbed down and asked fans to say their names into her mic.
To anyone who thinks this is all too on the nose, some people needed a kick in the ass. Macieira had no problem telling someone to shut up for talking while she recited stats about sexual assault. Lunny called out others for refusing to catch a visibly nervous, likely first-time crowd surfer during the scuzzy bass-powered "Filthy Rich Nepo Baby," then called the fan back to the stage for a successful do-over.
Meditation doesn't work for Lunny — she began leading the audience in a breathing exercise but dropped it immediately, then slagged off the practice as "fucking stupid and boring" — but Lambrini Girls' entire show was an exhalation of rage. They rejuvenated their fans with elation, literally coming to down to their level by stepping off the pedestal that is the stage, encouraging everyone to be their most authentic selves with the no-frills romp "No Homo" and the set-closing electro-punk spin-out, "Cuntology 101."
In all their acts of dissolving the audience-performer divide, Lambrini Girls made it clear that everyone in the room was a participant. To that same extent, everyone was accountable — to themselves and to each other. Despite all the aerial cans of beer, the night was a sobering reminder that everyone can be susceptible to the same oppressive forces, so let's take care of one another.
And to the oppressors, Lambrini Girls' live show is a palpable, immediate declaration: "You won't rob us of our fun." So put those middle fingers up and join the pit.