The low, elegant resonance of a cello makes it a good fit for some corners of the metal world — there’s not that much difference between some extended minor-key bowing and a drawn-out doomy guitar riff after all. But what about two cellos? What about three? Gown, a seven-woman, three-cello ensemble, offers one answer. On Skin, its debut album that the band is celebrating at this release show, Gown serves up a muscular crop of songs that are playful, celebratory, and unapologetically aggressive all at once. Songs like “Spark to Rage” and “Videogame” address misogyny while flaunting a proud sense of self. With “Pirate Shit,” the band intersperses rollicking cello riffs with an infectious chorus (the song even recalls some of the same lawless seafaring aspirations of Dorothy Parker’s “Song of Perfect Propriety”). Suffice to say, Gown offers some serious fun in an unusual package. 

What happens when you blend heavy metal, punk, and…classical music? Answer: The seven-piece feminist femme fury that is Durham’s Gown. Composed of Whitney Jewett on vocals, Nelle Dunlap on bass, Alex Armor on keys, Alex Craig on drums, and three cellists, Emma Dunlap-Grube, Leah Gibson, and Lindsay Wilson, Gown has been deconstructing what it means to be a heavy metal band and is sure to make heads turn. Described on their website as “bloody orchestral glam metal by a bunch of sparkly druids,” the band released the album Skin on September 1st, available for purchase on cassette. There’s no way I want to miss them.

Meow!

Gown may not be the band that Durham deserves, but they are, without a doubt, the band that Durham needs.

Simply put, the women of Gown are heroines. Their message is tough. It is likely hard for some to swallow. Their songs are ugly and brutally honest, which is why they need to be heard. They don’t beat around the bush with metaphors. No, instead they throw you headlong into the discomfort that women in this country face on a daily basis. Frontwoman Whitney* wastes no time in telling the audience her familiarity with harassment. Rather than describe it, she reenacts an encounter and becomes the offender. It’s not pretty.

The songs feel so personal and close to home. There were moments when I found myself looking around the room and questioning the guilt/innocence of audience members. Was that the point? Gown projects the discomfort right onto the crowd.

It’s difficult to stand there and take it all in, but right before the intensity of feeling becomes unbearable, you get whisked away by melodic cellos back into a safe and comfortable zone. The music covers a lot of ground and the core group has the chops for it. The cellos give Gown nuance at every turn. The cellists are very tight and their versatility made for strong transitions whether by softening, swelling, or bringing a song to a dizzying frenzy.

This was a unique approach both for the music and the social issues involving toxic masculinity. Musically Whitney and Gown confront toxic masculinity head on.

Purr!