Irish Up-and-Comers Bitch Falcon Fill a Void in Rock ‘n’ Roll
There are few people in this world whose opinions I trust, but having just flown across the Atlantic to visit my beloved friend Steve (@stevesamaniac) in his hometown of Galway, Ireland, I knew better than to doubt him when he said “You’re here just in time to see the best rock ’n’ roll band in the country!”
Our friendship began several years ago after attending the same show at Brooklyn’s Saint Vitus followed post-haste by a friend date to see Melvins, and our tastes have matched up pretty tightly ever since. On our second night of overdue catching-up, we met his friends at a small but winding pub with a venue in the back, tossed back a couple warm-up drinks and took our place in front of a tiny corner stage that looked straight out of the Twin Peaks Roadhouse. Having not listened to a single track before, the band’s entrance proved his enthusiasm well-earned.
Heavy without sacrificing an ounce of delicate emotion and groovy without stumbling into the retro-classic nostalgia pitfall, Bitch Falcon are a Dublin three-piece who’ve been gaining a steady following in their home country since forming in 2013 (you might recognize guitarist Barry O’Sullivan from Irish black metallers Altar of Plagues). In their short time as a band, they’ve honed the kind of skills it takes to fill a pronounced void in rock ’n’ roll without bending to the whims of an industry that often demands genre-fulfilling markers over content. Having shared the stage with acts like Torche, Les Butcherettes, and Fucked Up, the band is more than prepared to stand their own among the stacked-bottom heavyweights succeeding today. Late last year, they released the single “Of Heart,” which has gained them over 10,000 monthly followers on Spotify and an ardent fan base at live shows. I ended up seeing them twice on my trip, as I found myself in Dublin the same night they played, and the crowd was equally as spirited but probably three times the size of Galway’s and buzzing with that uniquely frenzied feeling of a group knowing they’re witnessing something great in the making.
It would be dangerously lazy to compare singer Lizzie Fitzpatrick’s mournful Irish wail to that of recently departed and deeply beloved Cranberries singer Dolores O’ Riordan, but there’s something in that longing Irish wail that combines beautifully with the grey and chilly atmosphere of the country that leads to such a unique vocal approach. Fitzpatrick’s voice on the band’s official single “Of Heart” toys and teases; in one instant you’re welcomed in full-swell, the next you’re hesitantly distanced from gaining too much of the intimate detail. I clearly recall feeling that push and pull during the live version; the privilege of being let in was not given freely but rewarded to a deserving audience. Really special singers can give themselves to a crowd like that without falling apart in the process, and Lizzie is a very special singer. Drummer Nigel Kenny backs up the intimacy of my interpretation:
“The song has been hidden away and kept from release while we finalized the arrangement which changed gradually over the course of about four years. This track has a very strong, personal subject matter and as a result it was carefully cradled, cajoled, encouraged and moulded into the final result.”
The song is restrained in tempo, giving it an infectious likability. I’ve listened to it endlessly in melancholic moods trying to find the words to describe how soothing the fuzz between the grooves is in its powerfully effective simplicity. It’s among the band’s most melancholy offerings, but it resonates in my chest differently with each listen. I’ve gone to it in moods of hopelessness, celebration, manic romance and frustration, and I’ve yet to find it an ineffective tool for reflecting those states.
I’ve been waiting on details regarding a full release but as of yet no date has been set. Check out their music — particularly the shining “Of Heart” — on Spotify, buy it on their Bandcamp, follow them on Facebook and Instagram, whatever it takes to get Bitch Falcon over to the States. We need rock ’n’ roll like this more now than ever.
