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Review/Gallery: Mere Women

It’s 11pm at The Foundry on a Friday night and I’m perishing fast. Coaxed out of the comfort of my home to Control Zine’s Darker Party and the promise of Sydney’s Mere Women, I trudge to The Valley. Upon entry, I’m greeted by the kind of lowlights and hanging décor that echo the deepest, gloomiest part of the ocean.

Before double-parking myself on a bar stool, I make a bee-line for the bar, chasing something “cheap and nasty with a twist”. Eyelids heavy, tinnie in hand, I’m snapped out of my micro-sleep to the menacing fuzz that is Mere Women. Swept up, I meditate towards the organised calamity that hits my eardrums.

Feet sticking to the tartan carpet, I join the crowd as we are sedated by the charismatic enigma that is lead vocalist Amy Wilson. All white hair and commanding presence, us mere mortals can only watch on as she lays her roots front and centre behind the keys. Flanked by bassist Trisch Roberts, lead guitarist/vox Flyn Mckinnirey and drums/ vox Katrina Byrne, Mere Women are confident in their existentialism. Slamming out heavy favourites such as ‘Our Street’ and ‘Your Town’, the four-piece take no prisoners and are unapologetic in doing so.

Taking a breather and allowing the energy to plateau, Wilson expresses how stoked the Sydney-siders are to be back in the Sunshine State, despite it only being a measley 10 or 11 hours, ‘it’s just really nice you know?’

This break doesn’t last long before we’re dragged like Barb from Stranger Things back into the world of Mere Women with a jarring rendition of ‘Home’. The syncopated drums and driving lead guitar tumble the crowd further into the murky depths of Wilson’s absolute belter vocals.

As the set winds down and I head back to my creature comforts, I make a note of the only carriage in my train of thought – ‘Mere Women – holy shit.’


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