Mannequin Pussy –Tuning Fork, 13 December 2024: Review & Photo Gallery

Philadelphia Punk landed in New Zealand with a vengeance as Mannequin Pussy, a band that proudly wears its anti-government, anti-religion ethos on its sleeve, delivered a performance dripping with conviction, and more than a touch of irony.

For all their rejection of authority and dogma, their set carried the fiery intensity of a sermon, a righteous preaching against everything they stand opposed to. More of that later.

First on stage is local support act, Swallow the Rat, which was like diving headfirst into a time capsule aimed squarely at the early ’80s post-Punk scene.

Discordant guitars buzzed like a swarm of angry wasps. Whilst the strained nascent vocals, a mix of emotion and raw unfiltered grit, shaped a soundscape brimming with unpolished charm.

The band’s lead singer wrestled with the mic like it was a sparring partner, an act that somehow elevated their scrappy aesthetic.

But what truly upended the night’s expectations was his wardrobe choice. Forget the leather jackets and studded belts. This frontman rocked a pristine BFM radio striped T-shirt, exuding the energy of a football supporter who’d wandered into a Punk gig by accident.

It was a subtle defiance of Punk’s stereotypical grit, proving that authenticity can wear many guises.

Their first song seamlessly segued into the second, with the bassist stepping aside to hand vocal duties to the drummer.

The shift was notable. The drummer’s delivery carried a more tuneful Punk edge, with the band now sounding reminiscent of Bauhaus meeting Crass, with a distinctive Kiwi injection.

Between songs, the frontman muttered and slurred industrially. Hi, we’re Swallow the Rat, thanks for coming ‘n shit, setting the tone for an unapologetically offbeat performance.

One mystery lingered. The vocals were strikingly quiet in the mix. Intentional or accidental? It was hard to tell, but the sparse crowd of around 150 punters didn’t seem to mind.

Swallow the Rat’s sound, at times punctuated with moments of Quentin Tarantino soundtrack inspired instrumentals, slowly but surely began to resonate as the set progressed.

By the fourth song, the band seemed to hit their stride. Whether it was nerves shaking off or the slow realisation that rehearsal might have been a distant memory, the difference was palpable.

A dose of Southern rock entered the fray thanks to the guitarist’s deft use of a slide, gliding up and down the neck of his guitar, adding a layer of grit and swagger to their Punk foundation.

As they neared the end of their set, the reverb dial was cranked to 11.

The final song saw the bassist relinquishing his instrument entirely to dive into experimental territory, focusing instead on manipulating his vocal effects into a chaotic yet intriguing soundscape.

Swallow the Rat might not be a polished gem. It wasn’t perfect, but it wasn’t supposed to be. They’re a band unafraid to wear their imperfections proudly. It’s in that raw honesty that their charm lies, offering a uniquely take on Punk with a Kiwi twist.

Next up, the main act Mannequin Pussy take the stage at The Tuning Fork with a bold, bewildering intro, setting the tone for a night that defied easy categorisation.

As the band stepped up, NLE Choppa’s explicit rap anthem Slut Me Out 2 blared over the sound system. A track so incongruous with Punk it felt like either an inside joke or a subtle nod to shared thematic rebellion.

Whatever the connection, it stretched beyond mere intro music, looping endlessly while their guitarist wrestled with in-ear monitors before Missy, the band’s enigmatic frontwoman, signalled readiness.

Currently touring as a five-piece, the line-up includes Marisa Missy Dabice (vocals, guitar), Kaleen Reading (drums), Colins Bear Regisford (bass, vocals), Maxine Steen (guitar), and multi-instrumentalist Carolyn Haynes.

This Auckland show, the 99th on their nine-month global trek, marked the end of their Australia/New Zealand leg.

The set began at an unexpected simmer with I Don’t Know You, a breezy indie-Pop number from their latest album.

Its follow-up, Sometimes, maintained the indie veneer but exploded in the live arena with Missy’s guttural screams, injecting the track with a raw ferocity absent from the polished studio version.

Hello Auckland, Missy purred into the mic, her voice dripping with smoky seduction. Welcome to the very last show of our Australia, New Zealand tour.

The crowd roared in response, a chaotic mix of styles and ages. Punk veterans in scuffed DMs, younger fans sporting creative flair, and plenty who, like the band, dressed with anarchic individuality.

The night swung between visceral thrash and introspective moments, but it was Missy’s fiery monologues that dominated.

Between songs, she ranted about societal discomfort with the word pussy, stretching a comedic call-and-response with the audience into a drawn-out, self-indulgent spectacle. What began as cheeky and provocative quickly felt like a derailment, culminating in over three minutes of the crowd screaming the word on cue.

Later, Missy launched into a diatribe about Christianity, shame, and societal control. While her critique was pointed, the extended speeches, spanning over 11 minutes of the set, felt at odds with the Punk ethos of direct, no-nonsense rebellion.

Instead of tearing down the establishment, these moments seemed to mirror its preachy rigidity, turning the band’s anti-authoritarian stance into an ironic reflection of the structures they oppose.

Thankfully, when the music took centre stage, it delivered.

Tracks like Control, OK? OK? OK? OK? and Pigs Is Pigs burned with unrelenting intensity. Their live renditions packing a visceral punch that transcended the recordings. These moments reminded everyone why Mannequin Pussy matters. They’re at their best when they let the music speak louder than words.

As the night neared its end, Missy announced, we’re not doing an encore ‘cause that’s silly. This is our last two songs.

They powered through the finale with unrelenting energy, and as the final chords rang out, guitarist Maxine Steen capped the night by balancing her Flying V guitar on her head. A surreal, memorable farewell.

Leaving the stage, Mannequin Pussy didn’t just close a show, they created an experience. Exhausted and exhilarated, the audience lingered, buzzing with the high of live music done right. Punk may have evolved, but in those moments of raw energy and catharsis, it felt as vital as ever.

Paul Marshall

Photography by Leonie Moreland

Mannequin Pussy

Swallow The Rat