By Vince Leigh
What’s not to like here? Power punk rampaging rebel words sprinkled over a drowsy Kashmir like riff, performed with all the finesse and fight of artist revolutionaries hacksawing the loosened gates of the enervated, decrepit establishment.
Sweet whisperings slyly introduce us to the band’s contention, all delivered in a pleasingly tame register, but building to a landslide of layered harmonies and a straight out Rammsteinian onslaught of jousting, distorted guitars.
Where some of Glitoris’ previous work is propelled not only by their social conscience but by castigation delivered with idiosyncratic humour, this is the band in a no less severe frame of mind but without the display of any overt derision for their hapless targets.
In fact, the bullseye here has been stretched far and wide, across the generational, communal and perhaps physiological divide.
The grenade has been lobbed.
Let’s not mince maxims here. Glitoris have a cause, and The Policy is a consolidation of that objective. And thank the god-spirit of punk or rock or art in general, for it. This band is an anarchic wonder. Is Glitoris our Pussy Riot?
Tell you what, I’d love to see Glitoris open an episode of Q & A with The Policy, or a guerrilla performance from atop the hollow confines of the House of Reps Public Gallery.
Within the precinct of their more-rock-than-punk musical aesthetic, Glitoris have managed to espouse an unequivocal message of self-empowerment and self-determination with clarity and precision. They are not merely observers but instigators. ‘You gotta be brilliant, you gotta be dominant’, their lyric concludes.
It has been suggested that the protest song is dead, that a pop song cannot change anything, cannot change the world, and that at worst, such songs tend to be didactic. But one has to ask themselves: what’s the problem with didacticism? There is none here. The problem lies elsewhere.
I’m scurrying away while I write this. Make way.