OK, I have to be honest here before we start: I am really not a fan of Bikini Kill. I probably requested this show at a time when there weren’t many other shows announced, primarily based on the strength of one song I knew and their influence on bands I love (Sleater-Kinney, for example). They are pioneers of the “Riot grrrl” scene, after all! However, the more I dug into their back catalogue in the days leading up to the show, the less I enjoyed what I was hearing. It’s that brand of raw, uncut two-minute garage punk I tend to avoid. But I’m a man of my word, so I’ll still go, even if I’m a little worried about it, to say the least. Maybe I’ll be blown away by the live experience? I’ve been won over before, after all. Maybe that will happen again?
It doesn’t.
For the duration of the 85-minute set, it feels like the message is more powerful than the music. Feminism is front and centre in most of the banter; vocalist Kathleen Hanna proclaims, “Thanks to whoever invented ‘Gaslighting’ and ‘Mansplaining,’ we didn’t have that in the ’90s! Well, we had it, believe me!” Drummer Tobi Vail takes over vocal duties on a few occasions and on one of them, dedicates a song to the “male-dominated punk scene in Olympia, Washington, in the ’90s.” I’m not 100% sure which songs accompany the dedications, as they are rarely introduced throughout the set, but the crowd loves it.
By the time Carnival arrives, a mosh pit forms and rumbles for the rest of the night, especially huge during the set closer, Suck My Left One. The crowd-surfing begins on the eloquently titled I Like F*ing, and it remains a fixture for the remainder of the show.
But alas, the music. For content so charged, the ferocious punk rock delivery renders the lyrics mostly inaudible and, by extension, the message incomprehensible. It’s a stark contrast to the Cigarettes After Sex show a few nights earlier, where the delivery was so crisp that I could discern every word. For a farewell tour—and surely their last time playing in Montreal—it’s a fairly emotionless affair too. No anecdotes of times spent here, no warm, cuddly thank yous for the support; nothing. Maybe you could say it’s not a very “punk” thing to do, but after seeing NOFX’s final shows a couple of weeks back and hearing Fat Mike’s effusive praise of our city, I know that’s not the case.
The encore consists of Kathleen simply saying, “You know what we’re gonna play!” before closing out the night with the classic Rebel Girl. That obviously goes down a storm, but then that’s it. The band leaves the stage, and the night is over. It’s a muted, anticlimactic goodbye that rounds out a fairly disappointing show overall.
Review – Simon Williams
Photos – Steve Gerrard
