2023’s Life Under The Gun was a sub-30 minute sprint, but the sophomore effort starts on more restrained tones. Opener “Pt. II” finds vocalist Ian Shelton speaking to a confidante on the phone about recent troubles. This tone lasts all of 20 seconds before Shelton’s cut off, mid sentence, by the caveman drums of “B A D I D E A”. It gives the impression of a deep conversation on a night out suddenly being interrupted by the dropping of a banger. Shelton goes from reticent monologuing to crazed cheerleader, bleating the verses at the top of his register and spelling out the song’s title like a regular Gwen Stefani. It doesn’t speak to a guy trying to run away from his problems – there’s guts aplenty to be spilled here – but of the many ways to vent one’s spleen, from intimate conversation to a primal punky roar.
It must be addressed up top that the hooks on God Save The Gun are just enormous. The production of this maximalist, overdriven record is for the most part handled perfectly, with the rumbling bass, sugary, jagged guitars, and thumping percussion never fighting for space. Shelton’s voice is more than up to the task of cutting through all that noise, too. On highlight "Maybe I’ll Burn My Life Down”, he bellows and barks over choppy chords that sound like an early Elvis Costello cut melted in the microwave. It’s nothing short of an aural panic attack. The LP’s most tightly wound tune, the centrepiece is the yelped chant “I feel trapped,” over percussion that ticks like Swiss machinery.
For all their hardcore leanings, Militarie Gun find even more power when they slow things down. “Kick” is a colossal song, with the melodic sensibility of an early 00s pop-punk track and the sonic scale of all those bands mashed together. The riffage is kept snappy and sparse in the verses, all the better to explode on an all-conquering chorus. “If I kicked you in the face / I’m sorry / But I would do it again,” Shelton bellows, as the lead guitars shriek like burglar alarms.
The moment of true inspiration comes on “Throw Me Away”, a contender for the chorus of the year. The band strips most of the melody from the snappy, driving verse before dropping into half time. The song simply explodes, guitars whining and chugging as high and low as the spectrum will allow, Shelton declaring “I’ll change / If you promise just to stay the same,” a line you can already imagine couples at concerts bellowing at one another. Any tuneful noisesmith of the last several decades would be proud to call this one their own; it’s one of the year’s most instantly gluey 25 seconds of music.
But this isn’t a record to be taken lightly by any means. “I Won’t Murder Your Friend” is painful composition, the intent of which was, per Shelton, to deglamourise suicidal ideation. It’s not subtle - less on the nose than halfway up a nostril – but there’s something to be said for a song with such troubling topics and lofty goals just putting its cards on the table. And the reward for listening closely to some quite troubling lyrics is an incredibly cool guitar outro, solo lines tumbling exhaustedly into one another.
Proceedings end with notes of resignation and relief in its title track, a little softer, a little slower. After a surprisingly Tears For Fears-esque guitar line, we’re left with Shelton’s final thoughts: “By now you’ve got to know / If you want to keep your life, you gotta let it go.” The album ends suddenly and uncertainly. We’re left with plenty to mull over but, equally importantly, a great desire to hear those ginormous hooks all over again.
