Should you do a quick Google search for information on the band Bully, chances are you’re going to find a number of reviews (of either their LP or their live shows) drawing direct, sharp comparisons between the Nashville quartet and the Courtney Love-fronted Hole. Those comparisons -which crop up as though obligatory- aside, Bully is a band with a ferocity all their own.
They walk onto the stage at Howler, so unassuming that, were it not for the deep blue lights thrown across them they may have gone unnoticed. Such is the unaffected charm of Bully which is perhaps why, from the instant they launch into the first song of the set, I Remember, they connect. Like a damn fist. Straight away, the room erupts. There is movement, there is urgency, there is noise reaching all the way to the beer covered couches at the back. Too Tough follows soon and proves a highlight early in the set with its crashing symbols and a static crunch that fills the room. This proves that while their LP Feels Like might have been released to high praise, the best way to listen to Bully is live.
There is an understated grandeur to Bully. There are punchy guitars and relentless drums. Alicia Bognanno screams lyrics of nostalgia as on Six, where we learn that Bognanno accidentally broke her sisters arm. Everyday panic follows in Trying, has her praying for her period all week. Trash, however, is the harsh, hectic highlight of the entire night. Bognanno opens with the sweet melody of the first few bars, the bass pushing her along until the chorus, which sends a fever through the room, creating a frenzy with the wails of “Traaaaaaaaaaash” and a rain of fuzzed-out guitars.
There is little fanfare between songs, with Bognanno addressing the audience but twice. The first time, she mentions the band have just been in Sydney and laughs when the room fills with disapproval from the crowd. The second, she asks who has been to Meredith, where they’re playing tomorrow, and gives the audience a taste of their own medicine when she says the response was half-arsed. There is a third attempt at conversation, but it doesn’t quite get off the ground.
Perhaps it is the casual nature in which they sound-checked before their set, or maybe it’s that they so obviously enjoy playing their music for a crowd, most probably its a combination but despite the abrasive quality of a Bully live show and the minimal interaction with the crowd, the band on stage feel like they are friends with everyone in the room. There is a casual, brief encore of one song and after which the night ends in sweaty hugs matched with grins so wide that they might tear. Bully are nothing like their namesake, but they sure as shit know how to pack a punch.