Priest’s Orders

It’s Sunday, February 19th and is hosting Priests, (Katie Alice Greer, Daniele Daniele, Taylor Mulitz and G.L. Jaguar), on this holiest of jam days.  The band is set up in a white-walled basement surrounded by strands of lights, cream-colored curtains are bunched up for the back-drop.

“This is great T.V., ready for prime-time! Hello everybody, we’re called Priests. You’re on the internet watching us — welcome! We’re a band,” she continues somewhat awkwardly, “we’re live in a house somewhere in Oakland, California, and we’re gonna play some songs for you. Here we go!”

The camera flashes to a variety of pedals organized on the floor, confusing looking as all hell, and slowly moves up to a curvy and beautiful blue guitar. What comes out of it sounds just as good as it looks. A catchy melody encourages my ears to perk up and my body to gently sway. Just as the music starts to settle all cozy at the base of my eardrum, a thunderous voice demands my attention.

The person that belongs to this booming voice is a small blonde woman. The singer looks ready to pose for her senior prom photo with her fluffy blue dress and gaudy gold earrings, not at all like she is about to wail repetitive lyrics over a transfixing guitar riff.

In the back, on the drumkit is a short-haired chick wearing a mustard yellow teeshirt and holding a tight, fast beat — to her left is a nonchalant looking bassist who plucks away at some ample notes — the anchor holding down the ship.

“It’s all LIVE, It’s all happening,” says the frontwoman in the baby blue gown.

The lead guitarist continues to tap wistfully away at the strings on the frets, his square-rimmed glasses and printed top make for a colorful yet proper sight.

As the set continues, I notice that the lead singer falls deeper and deeper into what she’s saying, what the other band members are playing — into her groove. It’s almost like she gives a shit about what they are trying to get across.

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I don’t care what you think,” she drones on in her strong, stony voice.

Which is exactly what these punks-gone-priests are attempting to get across: Let me feel what I feel when I feel it.

I can’t help but get the sense that they really are somewhat of an off-beat godly bunch; they talk about being cogs in the machine, what it feels like to be in love, politics, existing in our modern world, and often emphasizes the consequences of judgment.

Personally, one of my favorite repeating lines, “I thought I was a cowboy because I smoked Reds,” shines a light on the sort of talk-style, train-of-thought writing that this band projects.

A nice surprise comes about towards the end of the set as the drummer slams a fast beat while simultaneously shares some colorful words with the mic. She describes a setting in a dark place, a mood lace with running thoughts, a moment of fear that screams at you to PAY ATTENTION.

The other members bob their bodies along and keep themselves turned towards her as she spits her beliefs and madly shakes her head to keep the beat. The sentiment is obvious; this woman is a badass drummer and a wordsmithtress. I’m listening.

They’re not perfect sounding by any means, but what punk influenced artist wants to be? The cringe-y vocals, the gritted teeth, that tiny bit of chaos is the message.  A movement set in place to make us completely aware of our senses.

“Thanks, internet, for coming to the show. Make sure to punch a Nazi sometime — Bye!”

And with those orders from the Priest, I find myself googling “white supremacists near me” in hopes to fulfill the Lord’s work.


Check out more of’s unique artist lineup and follow-up to see who/who hasn’t decked a Nazi.


Author: nikkizambon

Nikki Zambon is a gal in her 20’s hell-bent on getting her hands dirty in the Freelance Writing world. To learn more about Nikki or to find her contact info, visit the About page on the menu bar.

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