The debut album from the Belfast DIY quartet, Blouse Club is twelve tracks of righteous and rallying queer punk that see Problem Patterns take aim at the bigotry that has become embedded within our social fabric, male violence as an endemic, working class cosplay and how Tory policy is nothing more than the party ripping the copper out the crumbing walls of this country. These subjects are then expressed with the abrasiveness of Melvins, the rage of GEL, the contemporary buzz of Bob Vylan, the sass of Queen Zee and the classic punk heft of L7. This, in total, makes this record familiar and approachable, yet still individual and fresh. It’s heavy, bellowing and like a shot of Fireball to the gut, incendiary and damn good fun.
Brilliant opener ‘Y.A.W’ instantly establishes all of this within its first 30 seconds. Featuring a guitar tone that sounds like sandpaper and a bassline that hits like a shovel, ‘Y.A.W’ introduces the record like the aforementioned Fireball as it decries violence with sheer musical power. The following ‘Big Shouty’, as its name implies, is a fierce screed of pure unfiltered riot grrl and the fun punk stylings of ‘Advertising Services’ only highlights the sardonic nature of this record with both joy and frustration.
As the grunge-laden likes of ‘A History Of Bad Men Part II’ and the breathless ‘Lesbo 3000’ – a track reclaiming homophobic slurs set to incite pile-ons only seen previously seen at hardcore shows – continue to affirm the sheer volatile power of this record, truthfully, it becomes apparent that to pigeonhole this record is an insult to its brilliance. Blouse Club is a unique amalgamation of a plethora of qualities that comprise this band as creative force and to compress this record into an established box for convenience would be a great disservice to it’s creativity and energy.
Fun, rage and the brilliantly harsh and unsanitised Melvins-esque guitar tone may be the trifecta of touchstones that bind the record together, but apart from that, each track on this Molotov glitterbomb of a record carries its own delivery, presence and incendiary device. Simultaneously however, each track is a crucial integral part of this album, As seen in the more melodic leads comparable to Fresh and Martha within ‘Pity Bra’, the L7 reminiscent bounce of ‘Poverty Tourist’ and the wonderfully sarcastic venom of ‘Letter of Resignation’ that exposes how many women are merely just emotional caretakers for male partners, each song is it’s own entity within this fiery ecosystem of a record.
In all though, one of the most vital elements of this record is its juxtaposition between its lyrical subjects and delivery. Here, Problem Patterns use this record to explore and unflinchingly expose the rampant violence that woman face on a daily basis; be it direct at the hands of men or through crippled healthcare systems. These, quite frankly, are subjects that played parts in the deaths of countless women the world over. But here, they’re addressed with sardonic lilt and a sense of raw, urgent rage that mirrors the rough sound of the record. This sense of urgency compliments the record thoroughly and ensures these messages are delivered in a fashion that truly hits home.
Blouse Club is not a sanitised or clean record, and nor should it be. It’s rough, frantic and discordant body of work that’s vital as it is brilliant, and with it’s energy propelling forward without hinder, Problem Patterns have created a record that sounds as brilliant as it is culturally crucial. It’s the sound of a band being the best version of themselves, and not only is it going to incite bedlam live, it’s going to make invoke conversions that should have held amongst men a long time ago.