Sarah and the Safe Word – Good Gracious! Bad People

Atlanta cabaret punk rockers Sarah and the Safe Word have wowed me with their latest full length, Good Gracious! Bad People.  It’s been a long time since I’ve heard anything that’s remotely reminded me of Panic! At the Disco’s seminal 2008 breakout, A Fever you Can’t Sweat Out, but the vibe is unmistakable.  The lush dance ready melodies, over the top cabaret style flourishes, and infectious early 2000’s pop-punk sensibilities hit all the right notes.  The band mirrors the same theatrical showmanship and zest for the stage as delightfully askew bands like The World/Inferno Friendship Society, Gogol Bordello, and even My Chemical Romance.  

The album opens with the brisk hop of organ keys, sounding like the backdrop to the splendor and pomp of a medieval French court.  And with that, the cabaret jumps to life, introducing the vocal stylings of co-founder and lead vocalist Sarah Rose (preferred pronoun “they”), the unmistakable voice of the seven-piece troupe.  Identifying as an all-queer band, Sarah and the Safe Word prides themselves on creating all-inclusive, safe LGBTQ spaces.  It’s abundantly clear that the band does not inhibit who they are, marking the opening of “Welcome to Winterwood” as an inviting manifesto to those searching for refuge and acceptance in this increasingly polarized world.  The rich imagery of being led through secret passageways, dark woods and enshrouded entryways captures the sense of always being on guard but never giving up on one’s true self.

The band casts a theatrical shadow across all tracks thanks to an ever evolving tempo, arsenal of instruments, and narrative heavy songwriting in which each chorus serves as a reflection of the current emotional state.  Tracks like “You’re All Scotch No Soda” are particularly playful, oozing production with elements of violin, piano, and a pacing that soars from a trapeze one moment and retreats to a candlelit hush the next.  Others like “Bottom of a Blender” flirt with unexpected combinations of guttural vocals and other-worldly theremin notes, while those like “The Bonnie Dell House” explore the swagger of southern rock. Standouts like “The Last Great Sweetheart Of The Grand Electric Rodeo” channels the feel of an ornate audience participation-based musical, filled with the echo of gang vocals and background chanting that serve as “reactions” to Sarah Rose’s unravelling narrative.  It’s as if Rose is gliding through the audience, passing off the mic to enthused fans and onlookers.  “Sick On Seventh Street” scales back the tempo for dramatic effect, embracing a whispered tone and inviting a sultry wave of female vocals to the mix.  The minimalist percussion and chiming bells of each verse mirror a lull on the stage as if to reel in an audience to an intimate focal point.

Good Gracious! Bad People. positions Sarah and the Safe Word as leaders of stage-punk and the  rock and roll cabaret.  The band claims they don’t write songs about politics, and on a surface level that’s true.  There are no explicit references to LGBTQ rights or current event sensitive stabs at the powers that be, but the band’s mere presence and drive to carve out safe spaces for personal expression is an undoubtable statement that lives at the intersection of entertainment and identity politics.  

There’s something remarkable about just how intuitive Sarah and the Safe Word balances the myriad of elements rounding out their performance.  The vast array of instruments and performers organically converge with unbridled excitement and purpose.  If Good Gracious! Bad People. doesn’t become a runaway breakout success, then something is seriously wrong with the music industry today.