Queen Cult bang out a timely hit on their latest single “Show and Tell,” which describes the utter superficiality of demagogues past and present. To paraphrase the lyrics, our hypothetical leader is crowned a clown and wearing it all too well. But alas; it’s all show and tell, for we are “cast aside by the government woes” during recession after depression.
Given the parallels to the contemporary political climate, it’s easy to see it as Trump-inspired given his infamous reliance on “I did that; like me” even when he did not do that or even when that sucks, but the band’s Britishness makes it just as easy to see such ascribed to Boris Johnson, who also sucks in a similar but different way. (I’m trying to write a music review so I won’t already digress into a harangue of anti-Tory polemics. Unfortunately, my failure to keep from doing so will come later.)
The breakdown at the bridge asks “Why don’t we just eat some cake?” referring to the apocryphal quotation by the probably not-apocryphally-out-of-touch French aristocrat Marie Antoinette, the current iteration of which satirically echoes as “Why don’t poor people just buy more money?” The more things change, sigh.
Speaking of royalty, considering Queen Cult’s band name, “Show and Tell” could even be extended as a critique of “girl boss ‘feminism.'” You know, because actual feminism is not about empowering women-owned (i.e. private) businesses to “empower” their workforces–female or not–with inadequate maternity leave, no health benefits, and starvation wages. Many aspiring girl bosses are suckered into such things as multi-level-marketing schemes that statistically end up bankrupting everyone involved. The sales(wo)manship, the business acumen, the success: are all just show and tell (and you thought I couldn’t bring this full circle)–made all the easier and more dangerous by social media and influencer culture.
And it’d be remiss if I didn’t mention the excruciatingly traditionalist ostentation and utter uselessness of the British royal family (it’s the 21st century; I’m gonna disrespect a royal institution)–often represented by the Queen of England. Talk about crowns and show and tell. (Not to mention a queen cult. [Reminder to our non-UK readers that, yes, a large contingent of the UK population genuinely still takes the royals seriously.]) This should be obvious to every proletarian the world over considering the events of the past 10,000 years (remember: “let them eat cake” lady get head go bye bye), but the necessity of a song like “Show and Tell” proves that our species is despicably, depressingly cowardly and self-subjugating. (Alright, maybe it doesn’t go that far, but I’m a misanthrope so nyeh!)
In lieu of me digressing any further, I’ll just leave you with a perfect encapsulation of Girl Boss Show and Tell in this clip of Scary Spice upholding the legacy of Margaret Thatcher whose contributions to women’s empowerment amount to a negative integer. (Seriously, I defy you to find them; you won’t be able to because they don’t exist.) Limousine liberal much? I don’t know anything about the Spice Girls’ music, but if “Thatcher was a girl boss” is any bit representative of their message of “female empowerment,” Queen Cult is the British girl group that should’ve sold 100 million albums.
Beside all that; Queen Cult still deserves to sell 100 million albums. “Show and Tell” will fit on many playlists and radio formats: pop rock, modern rock, political music, mainstream alternative, queer bands, girl bands, queer girl bands. It’s catchy guitar pop with ever so slightly rough edges, but the energy, performances, and production work give the song a satisfying punch.
Already at the intro the thinnest layer of phaser on the guitar swirls as history’s strange and meandering trudge (arguably) forward as if to remind us to in turn remember the past. Interestingly, there’s some vaguely tropical lead guitar at the pre-chorus, which gives the song a brief “trouble in paradise” feel; there must be no escape from our current political moment. Divorced from the past it is not. Also during the pre-chorus is a guitar echo effect representing the echoes throughout history that warn us of repeating it. The chorus’s “oh la la la” sounds like the clown all too pleased at how he looks in his crown.
Supposing I’m reading too much into things, Queen Cult has written and recorded too many happy accidents for them to be merely accidents. I can only assume that they have the Midas touch, but one they can control, obviously. And it’s only for music. Otherwise, they’d probably be dead. (Dear Queen Cult: Please don’t die for a long time so that you can continue to release several dozen cool and meaningful songs like this one. Your friend, Dusk.)
My only critique is to have a better tone for the overdriven guitar at the chorus; it works for a good bit until it becomes too jangly and overtakes the arrangement during the “oh la la las.” But they more than make up for it with things as luscious and gorgeous as the “cake” bridge–guitars, vocals, and all. It’s an arrestingly beautiful lamentation that the disproportionately wealthy–that is, powerful–are painfully (literally, for working class people everywhere) ignorant in their ill-begotten bliss. It all rings through the clear and transparent production; everything has its place. I can hear the nuances in the cymbals, drums, guitar strums and fret slides. At the hard driving outro chorus, we’re appropriately reminded of the song’s urgency and weight with heavier instrumentation that sacrifices no detail for strength.
To connect the music to my political tirade is only to show that Queen Cult has written a song that cuts deep and wide through the mass political consciousness across several millennia. (I’ll spare you the examples of rulers from ancient times. Wait, I already mentioned Midas–dang it.) This is what makes the song truly great. It could’ve name-checked Trump or Boris just like all the UK 82 punks did with Thatcher and their American counterparts did with Reagan. Plenty of bands decades later did the same with Bush: The Sequel, yet these songs have lost none of their immediacy or pertinence. In their more general approach, Queen Cult ensure that their song more accessibly applies to a rogues’ gallery past, present, and future. Technically, the reference in “Show and Tell” to No More Head French Lady is an artful dodge to this (nevertheless valid) dating trope, as its legendary nature seems almost mythological it being so far behind us in history. Despite that, the French Revolution indeed happened, including the beheading of Marie Antoinette, and it happened for a reason; Queen Cult knows this (see the line: “revolution is on its way”) and “Show and Tell” exists as timeless and always relevant because of their insight.
Songs like this one, especially when written, performed, and released by bands featuring women and LGBTQ+ folx give voice to those subject to the amorally cruel not-even-fair-or-unfair nihilism of the absurd world humanity has created. There are those in power and those underneath it. That political power structures would go so far to crown a(n unintentional and entirely self-unaware) clown a king in order to maintain the status quo should tell us something. It rears its narcissism and charlatanry across all of society: corporate careerists, unscrupulous entertainers, quack doctors, fraudulent snake oil salespeople, influencers, hustlers, conspiracy theorists, cultists, clergy. All are clowns crowned ruler of their respective realms with nothing of substance to offer anyone, yet propped up they are by those duped.
I have heard Queen Cult’s “Show and Tell” perhaps a dozen times in writing this review and I cannot stop listening to it; it has not become old. It has not become stale. This is because it does not just enter my ears, but my mind and heart. Clearly, I had much to say about a single three-and-a-half minute pop song; that should serve as compliment enough to those who haven’t yet listened to it. To extend a metaphor, Queen Cult has struck gold here. If there is justice in this world, people will champion their merits–which, let’s be clear, in capitalism means buying those 100 million albums–because they’re certainly spreading a wealth of wisdom and artistry. Should we fail to listen to their message, the apocalyptic circus (what a badass name for an album or horror film) will perform forevermore. In that case, if Queen Cult is leading, I’m all for revolution!
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About the Author
Dusk writes for The Q because propagating the gay agenda is cool and badass. Some of their favorite genres of music are symphonic power metal, ethereal wave, dream pop, shoegaze, and black metal (the kind that doesn’t espouse right-wing poseur dreck). They believe that the best way to achieve social justice is through economic justice, which can only be secured through organized, cooperative, mass political action. They do not use social media publicly, but accept hate mail, death threats, and all other backhanded compliments at duskarts@protonmail.com.