More about: Big Joanie

What makes punk punk? Does it have to be socially progressive? Revolutionary even? Is it a specific sort of sound? Loud and brash and shouty? There once was a time where being a musician was in-and-of-itself a revolutionary act, eschewing the orthodoxy of a stable job, taking to the road to make art and tell stories. With Spotify having all but killed recorded music as a revenue stream for artists, and Covid having driven the nail into the coffin by decimating the live music industry, it is perhaps more difficult and more important than ever to be a musician.

Sonically, Big Joanie are more homage to old-school punk than peer of the post-punk panopoly which has dominated the airwaves and festival line-ups of the 2020s. The messaging in their music, however, is very-much up to date, and often has a lot more to say than the absurdist non-lyrics of some contemporary post-punk artists.

'What Are You Waiting For?' feels as if it could have been plucked from a Tony Hawk's Pro Skater soundtrack, with shrill guitar melodies over a chugging bassline and repetitive vocal hook. There are a couple of songs which, musically speaking, edge towards pastiche of the format, lacking in innovation. This pattern is swiftly broken with a beautiful, layered cover of Solange’s ‘Cranes In The Sky’, sprinkling the perfect amount of grainy, punky flavour to the original’s sultry, ethereal vocals.

'Confident Man' is a slower, more pensive song about how the world glorifies shitty men. "Be better than a greedy white man, cause they're terrible" guitarist Stephanie Phillips implores the crowd of, amongst others, white men (of indeterminate greediness). We cheer in agreement, we are shitty and we can do better. 'It's You' is a song about men being shit in bed (the blokes in the audience are really getting a battering tonight). It is a frenetic song which captures the intense frustration of bad sex… or y’know… what I imagine it must be like…

Despite the brash and sometimes angry nature of the music, the band couldn’t be warmer, coming across as instantly likeable and welcoming. Using the gaps between songs, drummer Chardine Taylor-Stone delivers impassioned pleas of solidarity for just about every downtrodden group, from train strikers to trans folk. Music has always had the capacity to be political, but Big Joanie reject the hippie-ish 'let's all just get along' approach adopted by so many others and instead use their platform as a call-to-arms for mass unionisation and proper political action. 

The quieter, slower songs are where Big Joanie really shine. Haunting vocals, warbling synths, and gravelly bass lines come together with the booming, ritualistic drums to provide a backdrop for the group’s impactful messaging. Revolution isn’t a loud guitar riff or a shouty spoken-word refrain. Revolution is true, universal solidarity, whether you’re one of the striking rail workers or one of the “queer witches and bitches” in the audience, we have to stand together to stand strong.

See the view from the pit, captured by Yasmin Cowan below:

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More about: Big Joanie