With increasingly large-scale shows, including European appearances at Primavera Sound and on the main stage at Outbreak, singer Ian Shelton shifted from the relative shade of the drumstool he occupies for his other band, furious hardcore outfit Regional Justice Center, and into the glare of being a fully-fledged frontman. It’s fair to say it hasn’t all been smooth sailing.
Where Militarie Gun‘s previous work traced the echoes of generational hurt from something of a remove, this time out Shelton places himself squarely in centre frame, acknowledging the toll taken by drinking and touring and more touring and more drinking. The palpable tension between outward momentum and an internal unraveling is at the heart of God Save The Gun.
Opener ‘B A D I D E A’ wastes little time in setting the tone. Militarie Gun’s instantly recognisable explosive instrumentation is present and correct despite the recent near-wholesale lineup changes which, most notably, saw lead guitarist Nick Cogan depart to focus on his work in Drug Church. There are blown-out drums and distorted bass under restless guitars and sparkling synth lines with just about enough space to squeeze in Shelton’s trademark barked ‘Ooh ooh’. However, the adrenalised gallop out of the gate comes complete with unvarnished honesty:
I’ve been slipping up, slipping up, slipping up / My eyes are baggy and my face is puffed up
The collision of swaggering rock maximalism and emotional erosion runs throughout the record. A case in point is ‘God Owes Me Money’, a track with all the bright, triumphant shimmer of The Killers at their most widescreen. It pulses with defiant grandeur, as though pain itself could be shaped into currency if you just shout loud enough.
And yet, the pursuit of enormity becomes something of a double-edged sword. God Save The Gun rarely exerts restraint; it wants every chorus to be the one that is screamed right back and every riff to bounce around your brain until your head hits the pillow. At times, the effect is more exhausting than exhilarating. ‘Kick’, for instance, strains under the weight of its own hook, with a refrain so drawn out that it becomes grating:
If I kicked you in the face / I’m sorry / But I’d do it again
Still, there are plenty of moments where clarity breaks through all the striving. ‘Daydream’ allows doubt to creep in like fog around the edges, while ‘I Won’t Murder Your Friend’ confronts suicidal ideation and the potential for massive collateral damage without once slipping into romanticism. Underlining the state-of-flux precariousness of it all, ‘Thought You Were Waving’ weaves a simple idea into a moving admission of the solipsism that takes hold when things feel like they’re falling apart. These standouts are the points where the record’s emotional stakes feel fully realised. As much as there are hooks for days and sing-alongs aplenty, it’s gratifying when the vulnerability fueling the album’s creation pierces through the bombast surrounding it.
God Save The Gun is an album caught between triumph and collapse. Its emotional honesty leaves an imprint, but its musical excess sometimes obscures the shape beneath. It’s not always graceful, nor consistently affecting, but it is committed, fervent, and human. This may not be Militarie Gun’s definitive statement, but it’s unlikely to slow their roll either.