Let's say you talk to any Irishman of a certain age group. In that case, you're likely to hear a humble brag about how they saw U2 before they got big, which can usually mean any time between their first gigs as The Hype and the release of their second album. October (although some particularly cheeky bastards will extend that definition to any time before Joshua tree-was).
When I was a teenager, I heard that a lot when my parents told people I was in a band. “Well, we’re not very good,” I would say to calm the fuss generated by my parents’ unsolicited PR. “Oh, sure, you have to start somewhere,” the person used to respond. “I remember seeing U2 at McGonagle's…”, “…I remember seeing U2 at Dandelion Market…”, “…I remember seeing U2 at The Baggot Inn…”, “…I remember seeing U2 opening for The Stranglers in the Top Hat. in Dún Laoghaire, and they were shit back then, but they kept at it, got better, and became the biggest band in the world.”
Years later, I would find myself doing the same thing every time Fontaines DC came up in conversation. “I saw them twice before they got big!” I would brag. “Once opening for Franz Ferdinand at the Olympia, and once opening for The Horrors at the Tivoli on Francis Street, which is no longer there.” It's a strange thing to brag about since it's not exactly his achievement. Still, you feel like a part of history when you say you saw a popular act in its early days, and it's always nice to see local talent explode, which reminded me of another notable act I saw in its early days: Pillow Queens.
In 2017, Russian performance art punks, Pussy Riot, brought their show, Days of riots, which was a concert/narrative production detailing the story of its members' arrests, on tour across the UK and Ireland. When the show arrived at the Button Factory in Dublin, I was in the front and the support acts for the night came from two local acts: Bitch Falcon and Pillow Queens.
If my memory serves me correctly, Pillow Queens had a very positive reception from the crowd that night, but Bitch Falcon, who not only had a more established fan base but was also more in line with the headliner's sound, eclipsed them. In many ways, Bitch Falcon (along with Gilla Band) were the progenitors of the strong postpunk sound that seems to define Irish music at the moment, and which has proven a huge success for successful groups such as Fontaines, The Murder Capital, Just Mustard, Enola. Gay and Sprints.
And while its former members are currently enjoying great success in two big bands (HAVVK and Dose, respectively), Bitch Falcon's rise ultimately stumbled due to the pandemic, and after releasing their first and only album in 2020, they would finally call it one day in 2022. Meanwhile, Pillow Queens have become one of the biggest success stories in local music in Ireland. The band has now sold out major venues and signed to Canadian label Royal Mountain Records, whose roster includes artists such as Mac DeMarco, METZ and, previously, Alvvays. After two highly acclaimed studio albums, which have raised the band's profile both nationally and internationally, they now release their third, name your pain.
What I've always appreciated about Pillow Queens (and what has been successful for them) is the stylistic distinction from many of their peers, not only in sound but also in attitude. Pillow Queens is a band that proudly preaches its righteous indignation at injustices and inequalities as those bands do (sometimes denotatively, sometimes more indirectly), but in a much more moderate, cerebral and sometimes sardonic way, which who reminds me of songwriters as varied as Elvis Costello, Thom Yorke, Mark Sandman, Phoebe Bridgers, Fiona Apple, Nick Cave and the leader of a certain 80s British indie group that I'm not sure we can talk more about.
The press release for this new album states: “name your pain it is a more exposed register: no masks, no obliqueness, just a landscape of raw, open feeling,” and affirms the late writer Eavan Boland’s poem, “Atlantis – A Lost Sonnet,” which posits that the titular lost city was not so much a tangible location rather than “The old creators of fables searched hard for a word that conveyed that what is gone is gone forever and they never found it. And so, in the best traditions where we come from, they gave a name to his pain and drowned it.”- as a reference point.
Having listened to the album, I can definitely say that the elegiac nature of letting go is present but – for me; someone who is divorced from composers and their experiences and who simply bases his opinion on his interpretation of the art presented to him; feels like music that was made in an attempt to offer catharsis for various negative life experiences, but with uncertainty as to whether that would be the actual outcome. If that was In this case, I sincerely hope it worked because it is a very bold and brave exercise and I think it was successful.
Here's a potentially strange comparison, but name your pain It reminded me of the first time I read. The bell jar: since both are a job that I loved but that made me very depressed. Oddly enough, that's a compliment. It serves its purpose, but for me as an individual perhaps too well.
I try not to get into what I write, but I think the spirit of openness – which the album invokes – seems appropriate. I, your humble reviewer, am of a similar age to the members of the Pillow Queens, and many of life's terrible but ultimately necessary metamorphoses, and the resulting insecurities, doubts, and threats that arise from them, resonated too much for me. . and brought up some uncomfortable feelings and memories.
I want to put it this way because, as a listener, a song like “Gone”, for example (but not the only one), impacted me a lot, but that's not the album's fault. Writing emotionally vulnerable music like this can have an impact on different listeners that may be more visceral for some, and that was the case for me. But to be honest, I would rather be depressed and feel something than apathetic when experiencing creative results.
name your pain shows Pillow Queens at its finest, both from a production standpoint and in terms of composition. Their music has always been difficult to describe, which is a good thing as it shows uniqueness, and like previous releases, this album shows experimentation, with a song like “February 8th” incorporates electronic beats and “Blew Up the World” offers a slower acoustic reflection, but I don't think the music strays too far from the band's established sound; it just shows how perfected it has become.
Pillow Queens fans will have a great (if heartbreaking) time with this release and it's also a good entry point for newcomers who want to check out this band that some decrepit old man has been telling them he once saw opening for Pussy Riot before they exploded. The band's bravery has paid off magnificently and reminds people how they became as loved and popular as they have been.
What I'd really love is if some young Pillow Queens fan (Definition: grade school to early 20s) who enjoys the album today could write to me when they're in their early 30s, and if I'm still alive. So tell me how the album resonates with you compared to now.
By then, who knows how many bands you'll have seen before they blew up?
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