I worry about the world.
I don’t spend much time on personal social media. I haven’t really got any; it’s just the music accounts. But through work, you still see some of the hateful, vile things people say.
Just yesterday, the President of the United States was posting AI-generated videos of himself changing the sign on Lake Ontario, and you wonder about the world that my nieces are going to grow up in.
Which is what makes Hannah Wicklund’s new record, “War On Women; Calling All Good Men”, quite so powerful.
“War On Women” begins with the sound of children laughing. Wicklund’s voice arrives almost entirely unaccompanied, making every word impossible to avoid. It ends with the devastating declaration: “A war on women is a war on everything, and if you’re a man and don’t take a stand, then no longer will we be your lovers.” It is less an opening song than a line being drawn.
If that one is a cappella, “Red Gorilla” is much more like the thumping, dense blues that has coloured Wicklund’s previous work. Her voice roars, the rhythms grind and the screeching guitar solo sounds as if it is trying to tear its way out of the speakers.
These songs feel darker than anything she has done before – and unmistakably about 2026. “You better keep your head down, so they can cast their spells on you,” she offers on “Evil Is A Corporation”. The title is hardly subtle, but subtlety isn’t the point. This is music designed to confront.
“Marionettes” continues the theme. Let’s be honest: Wicklund is nobody’s puppet. She has reclaimed control of her career, and the defiance running through the song feels entirely real.
Her voice is so good that she can take on just about anything. “The Pier” moves into more soulful territory, allowing her to stretch out over something warmer and more restrained without losing any of the record’s intensity.
“No man is worth the pain,” she sings on “Diamonds”. And if hearing flutes on a rock track immediately makes you think of Jethro Tull, then this definitely has a folky, prog-ish feel. It is another unexpected colour on a record that refuses to remain in one place.
“Daggers” is far gentler than the early songs – musically, at least. Lyrically, not so much. That contrast makes it even more cutting, as the beauty of the arrangement offers no protection from the words.
The piano leads “The Token”, and the pain is palpable. Wicklund doesn’t simply perform these songs; she sounds as though she is reliving them. The restraint makes the emotion hit harder.
“She shaved her head like Britney Spears” is a line and a half, and “Whistle To Blow” buzzes with menace. There is anger here, but it is controlled anger, sharpened and turned into something that demands attention.
The opening line of “Stockholm” – “I gave you a dose of reality” – might be the key to the entire record. Although it is acoustic, it is perhaps the “heaviest” song here in the truest sense. There are no riffs required when the emotional weight is this substantial.
“Cowards & Kings” contains a spoken-word section that simply explodes. “I will not bend, I will not break,” Wicklund insists, before the guitar solo rips through the song as if agreeing with every syllable.
Her voice is haunting on “Total Truth”, offering a final moment of reflection before “Calling All Good Men” completes the circle. Almost gospel in its delivery, it is a plea for decent men to stand up and confront the scum represented by the Tate brothers and the manosphere.
I can’t speak about the problems women face with any authority. What I can do is tell you that “War On Women; Calling All Good Men” is a wonderful record and an even more powerful statement.
Rating: 9/10
