Review | Dream Wife at The Wedgewood Rooms, Southsea: 'High-octane and hyper-kinetic throughout'

And if you are going to, at least have the courage of your terrible convictions to say it loudly enough for the band to hear – not just your sniggering friend and those of us unlucky enough to be stood nearby.

But then maybe, just maybe, you realised that a gig by a three-quarter female, feminist, pro-queer, pro-inclusivity punk band wasn't the best place to air those sentiments.

That's not to say this is some ultra-earnest, fun-free gig – far from it.

This gig is two years overdue – Dream Wife released their second album, So When You Gonna..., in July 2020, and this tour has been their first chance to finally play those songs live.

The band are clearly enjoying themselves, and that joy is infectious. From opening song, Hey Heartbreaker, guitarist Alice Go and bassist Bella Podpadec career all over the stage – the latter getting so carried away she collides with her amps almost immediately.

Rakel Mjöll is a commanding frontwoman – all piercing stares, high kicks and a banshee-like howl which she unleashes to great effect.

All three, backed by drummer Alex Paveley, are high-octane and hyper-kinetic throughout.

New song Hot is dedicated to the tragic loss of ‘a fallen comrade’, Go's red leather Givenchy trousers, which apparently didn't like being stuck in a tumble dryer. The track is appropriately incendiary.

Another new song later in the set, Leech, features modish spoken word verses and an emphatic chorus. As a one-off it works, but I hope this isn't the direction they're moving in – I can't be the only one getting bored of sprechgesang clogging up the 6Music airwaves.

Somebody, with its chorus of ‘I am not my body, I am somebody,’ is a high point of the set. It is an as strong and to-the-point affirmation of female sexuality as you’re likely to find anywhere. Weld it to an incessantly catchy riff and you're on to a winner.

The band have made a point of reclaiming the expression ‘bad bitches’ from the hip-hop community, turning a pejorative into a declaration of pride. And as Mjöll tells us to great cheers from the audience, gender doesn't matter when it comes to being a bad bitch – anyone can be one.

FUU features an extended intro that gives Go a chance to show off some serious guitar-work, culminating in a chant of the aforementioned ‘bad bitches,’ before they finish with the raunchy blast of Let’s Make Out.

There are no encores, but the audience would have happily had them back for plenty more.

We are all bad bitches now.

A message from the Editor, Mark Waldron

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