Diplomas in punk rock line dancing; UTI theatre; synth pop period sex; paeans to Buffy the Vampire Slayer; microphone cable limbo of death; vibrator slide guitar; Red Flags, literal and metaphorical. . .
Welcome to Loud Women 2025!
Celebrating ten years of “putting more women on more stages” around the world, Loud Women is a music promoter, record company, annual prize, a community, and a community interest company. Run by Cassie Fox of the band I, Doris, everything about this not-for-profit initiative embodies the spirit of intersectional feminism, and its team of international volunteers works hard to put that spirit into practice. And, of course, to turn up the volume.
Held at Rich Mix, Shoreditch, Loud Women Fest London 2025 is the zenith of all this hard work: a one-day music festival featuring a perfectly curated line-up of bands and solo artists which feature a significant proportion of women and trans performers. One of several in fact, with similar events held in Australia and America. Unfortunately, I don’t think I have ever seen so many women and non-binary performers serving meaty riffs and pounding beats together on one bill before. Clearly this should just be normal. Loud Women makes for a fairly eclectic musical range, including pop, indie, electro, hardcore, alt rock, and math metal, but leaning towards punk bands whose anger is on the correct side of history. It is clearly an important meeting space for the queer community also.
This is my first time at a Loud Women event, having heard about them through friends of mine from that community and its volunteers. I write as a white, queer, cis-gendered man; and I hope that I do not need to state that I felt as joyously welcome in this space as did all of the folks in attendance –I have no doubt – who do not share this privilege. I watched a great selection of bands, chatted to some friendly people, ate tasty food, drank interesting beverages, and had a lot of fun.
And it’s this last point that I’d really like to emphasize: Loud Women Fest London 2025 was a day full of joy, happiness, and fun. I certainly came home feeling that I had learned something, with many important thoughts and questions running through my mind: about how we (music lovers, habitual gig-goers) might work together to make our treasured loud spaces safer and more inclusive – like this one. Many acts across the day used their platform to address very serious themes with a sense of real humour and playfulness, without diminishing their messages. Others delivered theirs with D-beat bluntness. Below provides a brief snapshot of the bands I managed to see over the course of the day.
First up for me, we have Piney Gir, a Kansas-raised but London-based musician, who sings comic yet poignant songs with her indie-psych band in Rich Mix’s upstairs, blackbox theatre space. I’m particularly interested in her song dedicated to the women of Covent Garden – sex workers, often living sad and exploited lives – giving them a new agency and voice.
Luxury Nan Smell don’t just have a great name: this math-tinged hardcore has serious bite, despite their guitarist’s delightful yellow, flower-shaped instrument. This is fast-and-loose metal with a punk spirit, which can jerk in tight, technical directions on a whim, and lyrics as humorous as they are socially-conscious.
It’s not often you see a punk band comprised of proudly menopausal women, but I, Doris – led by festival organiser Cassie – are all about challenging what we take for granted in the music business and beyond. With bright, stabbing piano chords from a red and black keytar, clattering guitars, and shout-screeched vocals, I, Doris prove that anyone can play punk music, and reinforces how feminism operates as a transgressive musical force. And, dressed in red pinafores, they exude a gleeful sense of fun on stage, tackling serious lyrical themes with good humour (“panic attacks in TK Max”).
Bad Static, hailing from the streets of New York City, crank out dirty, sneering garage rock while dressed all in silver like glamorous aliens from an ancient 1940s B-movie. It’s an energetic show, delivered with strutting self-confidence and affable swagger – which spills over into the next act, with whom they share members.
T@b Grrrl, another band of women from NYC, have the swagger but also a lot of anger and aggression. Playing queer Riot Grrrl punk, this is music with an obnoxious, in-your-face, attitude delivering a punch for anyone dealing in misogyny, discrimination ,and homophobia. Prowling the stage and the audience, their singer – wearing what looks like a leather aviation cap – makes sure that no one can disengage. Encouraging a women-led mosh pit, this has to be the wildest, most anarchic show of the day.
As their name suggests, we can all agree that Hot Wife bring The Sass. A four-piece from South London, this is angular punk-rock with a hint of grungy laid-back-ness. Clad in a t-shirt depicting a very familiar wooden-stake wielding woman, it’s no surprise when their frontwoman announces a song called ‘Buffy Summers’: “a song about revenge, like all good love songs are.” It’s a surprise to hear that they bass-player is only temporary, as they’re holding down the low end very nicely, with a relaxed, chill demeanour.
Twat Union might just be the most memorable band from Loud Women 2025, given the humour and theatricality of their show. This is synth-punk, with synched costume changes, props, and advanced crowd participation. Featured as the Guardian’s ‘One to Watch’, Twat Union are six women playing big pop songs , whose huge hooks and uncompromising subject matter leave them unforgettable.
Every song is complete with appropriate costumes and props, making everyone a part of the show. The track ‘UTI’ is complete with live chugging of cranberry juice, with brief, irreverent segue into a reworked version of The Killer’s ‘Mr Brightside’ (“It started out with a piss…”); for ‘Red Flag’ we’re given literal cloth flags to be raised every time we hear a bad sign in the lyrics (men with an interest in Jordan Peterson, refusing condoms, or bemoaning their crazy Ex’s); and ‘Period Sex’ complete with the revelation of a blood-stained outfit.
Loose Articles, a Manchester four-piece, maintain this theatricality and energy, bringing a burst of colour and pattern to the stage, with the guitarists’ cow-print bikini, their singer’s baby pink hair, and their keyboard player’s red hockey jersey. Playing relatively minimalist post-punk, with clean guitar lines and stabbing chords, squelching synth leads, and driving beats, this is music literally to get your knees up to, as bass-player/singer Natalie does, dancing across the stage. In a memorable moment, Loose Articles persuade the crowd to split into two halves and prepare for a limbo session underneath the stretched out mic chord. “How low will you go?” we all shout, as brave souls bend backwards to awkwardly cross the line in a “limbo wall of death”.
Closing the night are our headliners: Death Pill, a hardcore punk band from Ukraine. If what preceded them established a party vibe, these three women are here to go hard or go home. Smashing through over ten songs in half an hour, this is unvarnished, raw, biting, and hard-edged; power-chord driven, D-beat powered, voiced with gnashing, snarling vocals and wild screams. With little time for speaking, vocalist Mariana gives thanks to the festival and “the British Institute for making this happen”, before launching into more short, angry anthems targeting the culture of victim blame, the curtailing of women’s freedoms, and warmongering elites. Death Pill’s mixture of no-nonsense punk, catchy thrash-influenced riffage, and the occasional melodic vocal passage makes them the stand-out band for me, but following a day of colourful, exuberant, and powerful acts.
We shouldn’t need events like Loud Women Fest to provide spaces where women and non-binary musicians can form a majority and perform without being made to feel fear, discrimination, indignity, or condescension. But unfortunately we may well need them more than ever. This festival wasn’t just a noble cause, however: it was a wonderful day of music, laughter, and solidarity, and I hope to make my return next year.
Twat Union. Photo: Diana Revell
