Big Girl
Baby’s All Right
146 Broadway
Williamsburg, Brooklyn
Nov. 17, 2023
There’s nothing bare bones about Big Girl. Kaitlin Pelky’s femme-maximalist rock outfit commanded Baby’s All Right’s small, low-ceilinged showroom as though reaching for the nose-bleed seats of the Garden. Armed to the teeth with thoroughly impressive instrumentalism, a staunch dedication to their performance, and endless entertaining charm, Pelky and company constructed the stadium they’re due.
It’s fitting that their debut album, Big Girl vs. God, is so titled — Pelky’s not out for blood, but ichor.
Everything done to the nines, top-to-bottom, nothing overlooked. Two guitars, Pelky and Crispin Swank, playing split parts in puzzle-piece compliment, never surrendering to temptation of a simple, barre-chord strum. Michael Cohen’s drums exploiting every subtle variant of the tune’s groove, giving bassist Nico Astudillo canyons of room to river through. Nothing was wasted, though there was plenty on stage to waste. A group of lesser caliber could’ve hardly handled the weight.
Big Girl’s heft tipped toward the extreme with the addition of two more vocalists backing Pelky: The operatically full-throated Christina Schwedler and Maggie Denning, added flavors of doo-wop, choral-gusto, and rioting go-go to the band’s already overwhelming sound. They, however, were no spice in the stock; the backing vocals were the Girl’s bigness itself, as important an element as Swank’s wailing guitar, Pelky’s piquant lyrics, and the rhythm section’s pummeling drive. Schwedler and Denning built the bulk with unison support singing, polyphonic counter-melodies, and wide three-part harmony.
All to say, Big Girl is huge!
It was an unremittent joy to witness a performance that was performed for the audience, not at them or against them, all without an ounce of self-consciousness. Big Girl’s stage antics — rolling around on the ground, leaning over the crowd, actual full-band choreography — were impossible if everything beneath it hadn’t been worked out to the smallest detail.
With a band this large, there was so much ready-made spectacle to hide behind. Even the six people on stage would have been enough to be impressive most of the time. The other elements could have so easily been left in the lurch.
But Big Girl never let the their apparent largesse speak for itself. Song after song they proved it. Whether it was the hilarious, ironic skit/monologue opening of the second song in the set, Cadillacs, wherein Pelky briefly assumed the role of evil neoliberal girlboss
“Welcome to Big Girl Incorporated. Are you ready for your performance review? One of you lucky people will be getting a big promotion! All the money you could ask for! But, no healthcare! I’d rather you die!”
… or the slinking, unstable tonalities of nearly every other song, intensely jarring key changes mid-tune, propelling us ever forward. Or their impulse toward the epic, as in the truly heart-breaking power-ballad Forever. (Just listen to the record and lament that you didn’t see it live.)
That’s the truest magic here, the fact that I didn’t roll my eyes at a power ballad. Big Girl engaged in a certain fun irony, all behind the performative mask. It was all character, full and flesh. But, the character was intentional, each mask worn tailored perfectly. They chewed through the stage’s scenery. The crowd disappeared and we were all together, one, on this journey helmed by Pelky and her merry pranksters. We were welcomed into it, into every change in feeling and form, and radical shifts abounded! Big Girl was funny and serious, sad and saccharine, flirty and severe, kitschy and highbrow, wide-eyed with innocence and apocalyptically wise. They were too much for one band, and a small miracle.
Through all the laptop concerts, solo songwriter acts, and this lazy indie-sleave, shoegaze revival it was a deep joy to see a rock band that wants to be a fucking rock band. Swinging the pendulum between quirky humor and skin-peeling ecstasy, Big Girl were here to take it all. Luckily for us, they were willing to share.
