A ferocious, genre-bending riot of punk, metal and unapologetic attitude.

Lucie Sue isn’t here to play nice. Battlestation, her second album, comes in swinging—hair band swagger infused with riot grrrl ferocity. It’s raw, loud and impossible to ignore. If you want safe, look elsewhere.

The title track wastes no time. It’s a blast of punk aggression welded to thick slabs of metal, bristling with texture and power. Imagine Frightwig turned up to eleven—layered, relentless and unapologetically in your face.

But the ferocity doesn’t stop. “Hush” refuses to let the energy dip, demanding attention on all fronts. Thick vocal effects create a wall of sound, gritty enough to scrape bone. It’s part fight chant, part primal scream, packing the same kind of punch Joan Jett might deliver if she traded leather for chainmail. 

“Ride the Wired Wild Tiger” is a sprint—fast guitars, sing-speak vocals, sudden screams that spike the adrenaline. It’s feral but controlled, like it knows exactly how much bite to show before striking again.

Every artist knows when to ease up a bit, and that’s what happens next. “Bela” slows things down—at first. A melancholic opening lulls you in, then it turns heavy, keeping just enough of that power ballad heart to feel human. It’s a welcome shift in tempo, a reminder that Lucie Sue isn’t one-dimensional.

Just when listeners (falsely) assume the album can’t offer anything more, Lucie Sue throws “Bachat Bouloud” around, snapping the metaphorical leash. It’s relentless—think the Yeah Yeah Yeahs on their most unhinged day, then push it even harder. No breaks, no warning, just motion.

“I Will Shit Where You Sleep” (yes, that’s the title) is more melodic than you’d expect, giving listeners space to get their wits about them—sort of. The sound might be dialed back, but the lyrical venom makes sure you still feel the hit. However, the album isn’t done yet, and in a lot of ways, it’s just getting started. 

“Knud” drifts in with an eerie, story-like intro—beautifully strange before the chaos swallows it whole. 

“Reckless” keeps the pace high but lets more melody bleed in. By now, the album feels like Lucie Sue is tearing through her record collection, stealing what she likes from every genre and daring listeners to keep up.

Battlestation is messy, furious and fearless. It doesn’t ask for permission. It doesn’t care if you keep up. That’s exactly why it works.