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By my count, Militarie Gun can claim the hookiest song of 2025 if we’re judging “B A D I D E A” by sheer quantity. There’s Ian Shelton’s surly, stuttering verse cadence, perfectly suited for a guy who’s about to get payback for every bad check his mouth wrote. Then there’s the gleaming synth line that pops in after the first chorus and the hip-swinging surf-rock drums right before the second chorus. Those were all meant to pique Doja Cat’s interest before Shelton decided to keep the instrumental for himself and added the chorus, spelling out the title like a gooned-out “Hot to Go!.” With all of that, you might miss Shelton’s trademark “oof oof” ad-lib, which is mixed lower than the tambourine. That was Militarie Gun’s tether to their hardcore roots on their 2023 debut, Life Under the Gun, and it sustained damn near the whole album. It only appears one other time on the band’s second full-length, which is not the most important thing about God Save the Gun but perhaps the most telling: Militarie Gun are no longer satisfied with merely being “pop” in relation to other hardcore bands. Two years prior, Militarie Gun intended the lyric “I don’t care what you do, just do it faster!” as a sarcastic summation of grindset culture, even if the band shared its devotion to efficiency and optimization. The ultimate compliment for Life Under the Gun wasn’t “catchy,” but “punchy,” their songs direct and delivered with a stiff jaw and clenched fist. The exact opposite is true on God Save the Gun; half the time, if a song reaches two minutes, it might as well add a bridge that gets it to three. The tempos are dialed down to the point where Shelton actually has to sing to keep pace. “Pressure Cooker”? Nah, “I Won’t Murder Your Friend” and “Thought You Were Waving” simmer or are downright chill, even for a couple of tough-talking PSAs. Whereas most hardcore bands’ relationship with Britpop goes no further than a respect for Oasis’ bluster or Stone Roses’ merch, Militarie Gun are working with pre-psychedelic Beatles harmonies this time around. If the acoustic guitars and synth strings of “Daydream” weren’t enough, Shelton longs to “go back to the start” and welcomes the obvious comparisons to “The Scientist.” Yes, this is a guy who also fronts a powerviolence band, but also one who hired an engineer that allows Militarie Gun to namedrop Adele in their press materials. There are also interludes and phone recordings littered throughout that posit God Save the Gun as the most indulgent of pursuits: the concept album. Shelton has always used rehabilitation and redemption as primary muses, considering whether the carceral or 12-step versions can truly offer any lasting change. In the past, he’s done so as an invested outsider, writing about his brother’s incarceration and his experience as an auditor at AA meetings. On God Save the Gun, Shelton himself is the primary subject matter: a guy who avoided substances most of his life but proved to be a quick study once he started drinking at age 30. Or, to quote the namesake of the brief “Isaac’s Song,” Shelton is the dark center of the universe. He screams “just throw me away!” on “Fill Me With Paint,” and the very next song is called “Throw Me Away.” The repetition is likely intentional, an honest accounting of the persistent self-pity, self-deprecation, and self-flagellation that flourishes between the pink cloud of early recovery and the dark abyss of addiction. But at some point between the equally self-explanatory “Maybe I’ll Burn My Life Down,” “Laugh at Me” and “Wake Up and Smile,” whatever necessary tension once existed between the Mellotrons and mosh parts has all but vanished. The unvarying Buzz Bin shimmer and hungover shame transforms God Save the Gun into a longform experiment in trying to rewrite “My Own Worst Enemy.” Then again, it’s an admirable ambition for a group that seemed a bit stuck between stations on Life Under the Gun. “Do It Faster” reaped the spoils of the supposed post-GLOW ON boom, appearing in a Taco Bell ad and the WWE 2k24 soundtrack with a cosign from Post Malone’s wrestling avatar. But the more aggro-inclined fans at LDB Fest and Knocked Loose shows saw them as kindred labelmates of Soccer Mommy and Manchester Orchestra. If the Turnstile comparisons were reductive the first time around, Shelton yelling, “It’s never enough!” on “Fill Me With Paint” ensures they aren’t going away. But that specific choice of words seems like an unintentional coincidence more than a direct homage, since the same sentiment reemerges on the next two songs: “the drugs never seem to be enough,” “too close, not close enough.” Shelton may have hit rock bottom, but he’s convinced there’s gold underneath. All products featured on Pitchfork are independently selected by our editors. However, when you buy something through our retail links, we may earn an affiliate commission.
