The title hits you first. It’s not a suggestion, it’s a command. A two-word manifesto that sets the stage for three minutes of raw, unapologetic punk.
This is the latest single from Clare Easdown and Jade Ryan, the duo known as The Cunning Linguists, and it’s a Molotov cocktail thrown at the gilded gates of the music industry.
Hailing from Menai, Australia, Easdown and Ryan are disciples of the DIY ethos. “Fuck Your Throne” was recorded in the back of a car and a living room, on a laptop, with nothing more than an electric guitar and a microphone.
This isn’t a stylistic choice, a self-conscious attempt to sound “authentic.” It’s a reflection of their reality, and a middle finger to the idea that you need a fortune to make a statement in the society.
The entire project cost them nothing. Zero dollars. A fact they wear as a badge of honour.
The song itself is a furious blast of anti-capitalist rage. It’s a commentary on the grotesque disparity between the ultra-wealthy and the rest of us, a theme that feels more relevant than ever.
Easdown‘s vocals are a serrated-edge of righteous anger, while Ryan’s guitar work is a relentless, driving force. There’s no polish here, no studio trickery. Just the raw, unfiltered sound of two people who have had enough.
Their influences are worn on their sleeves. You can hear the snotty, pub-rock swagger of Amyl and The Sniffers, the feminist fury of Bikini Kill, and the uncompromising spirit of the entire riot grrrl movement.
But this isn’t a nostalgia act. The Cunning Linguists are taking the lessons of the past and applying them to the present. They’re part of a new wave of artists who are reclaiming punk as a tool for social commentary, not just a fashion statement.
It’s a chaotic good in a world of lawful evil. A beautiful mess. A song that sounds like it’s about to fall apart at any moment, but never does. It’s the sound of a band on the edge, and it’s exhilarating.
The lo-fi recording quality is not a bug, it’s a feature. It’s a statement in itself. It says that the message is more important than the medium.
It says that passion and conviction can’t be bought. In an age of autotune and Pro Tools, there’s something refreshing about a song that was recorded by actual human beings, in an actual room.
The Cunning Linguists are not just a studio project. They’re a live band, a fixture in the Sydney punk scene. They play weekly at the MoshPit Bar, and have a string of other gigs lined up.
They’re taking their message to the people, one sweaty, beer-soaked venue at a time. This is music that is meant to be experienced, not just consumed. It’s a communal exorcism, a shared scream of frustration.
Radio Brumas once said of the duo,
“Clare, accompanied by Jade Ryan, transforms her home in Menai into a resistance bunker, where lo-fi becomes an aesthetic.”
That’s a pretty good summary. But it’s more than just an aesthetic. It’s a philosophy. It’s a way of life. It’s a refusal to be silenced, a refusal to be bought, a refusal to bow down.
So, what are you left with after the feedback fades? A question, perhaps: if two people can make this amazing music with nothing, what are you doing with what you have?
