Lambrini Girls Interview
This isn’t just punk. It’s protest with a hangover and a sense of humour.
It’s a blustery day outside of Alexandra Palace, the infamous venue my dad only knows for the raucous darts tournaments. Inside, Phoebe Lunny and Lily Macieira, the two forces that make up punk duo Lambrini Girls, are preparing to open for Idles. Tomorrow, they will fly to New York. Next month, their debut album – written in a blinding two week intensity – is released in the UK, as the world ushers in another year of climate change, global conflict and dystopian politics. It’s a crazy time to be alive. To top this off, I’ve dragged my little sister up the hill with me and she sits, blinking at me as we unearth the trials and tribulations at the heart of their record, using way too many expletives. Everything feels a little dreamlike.
Phoebe and Lilly are adorned in big fluffy coats and knee-high boots we fuss over as the cameraman finds the perfect shot. Lilly blinks, wide eyes, as Phoebe tells me of the meaty blisters she must endure to rage up and down the stage in them. “You never told me that,” Lilly remarks; then, to me, “she never complains about anything.” As I’ll find in the rest of the interview, when activism, empathy and thundering rage glues the two together, there are a lot of things they don’t know about each other. I’m charmed, left musing on what must be lost when great social responsibility overthrows the usual fashioning of friendship.
And yet, Lambrini Girls are accustomed to being packed together in the backseat of dilapidated vans, driving to and from gigs on long tours, so it’s no wonder they seem unfazed at a Saturday night London crowd. The duo live for the moment, an attitude that directly ties to their creative process:
“We wrote everything so that we can play it live, completely true to record.”
Without the live shows to rally fans into a quasi-cult, Lambrini Girls told me, they wouldn’t be Lambrini Girls. This energetic, freewheeling rage is the Lambrini Girls flavour. But it doesn’t quite translate for some; in America, testing the limits of reactionary loyalty, Phoebe encouraged a crowd to chant, “fuck the constitution.” As it were, glorious circle pits spun out in hysterical fashion; in the middle of it all was one lady, scream-crying in resistance as if part way through an exorcism. This didn’t bother Phoebe and Lilly though: rather, they’re glad for the story: “We’re Crazy bitches with nothing to lose,” they laugh.
But with talk of their debut album, a fizzing anxiety enters the room, as they repeat to me the cautionary words uttered countless times by music execs: “Oh, your debut album. That’s a hallmark of your career. Once that’s out, there’s no going back.” There’s both fear and joy between them. “Apart from the crushing pressure, very excited and happy to have a full body of work out.”
It must be hard to fully back an album written so quickly, but to Lambrini Girls that’s part of their musical identity. Without the brash immediacy that comes from writing an entire album in two weeks, their trademark recalcitrance would be lost. “Every song sounds like the first time you fell off your bike as a child intentionally.” And how did they achieve that? Booze. The wetting of tongues, the release of barriers allowed a raw, unfiltered approach that slipped right on through to their sound. “The first week we didn’t get much done… So the second week we just got blasted, drank as much as we could and wrote as much as we did.”
Maybe this is one of the reasons the album is so funny. And sure, it’s easy to say now with the privilege of hindsight, but the girls had nothing to worry about: the album is a hit. Immediate crowd favourite is closer ‘cuntology 101,’ which they here tell me they wrote in a single day. It’s shocking, but not surprising – Doing a poo at your friend’s house (Cunty) /Stealing shit from chain stores (Cunty). Their humour is duplicitous – it draws us in, befriends us, but it also disarms us, making it a perfect tool for unsuspecting rallying that translates into activism. Think of those hilarious meme pages that, after a while, lead to your investment into a social cause. “I want to shag behind a bin, but the police are really bad, so I can’t,” Phoebe says. I laugh, she continues:
“If you scream in someone’s face for ten minutes, they might not listen. But if you tell a couple of jokes first, they might.”
Their awareness of political responsibility is carried over into their awareness, and commentary on, the music scene too. “We wouldn’t be doing this interview if it wasn’t for our label. We are Nepo babies now.” What Lambrini Girls don’t realise is that Still Listening is an independent, grassroots magazine and I’m losing money doing this interview. But I’ll let them off. In a way, it only heightens the point they stress to me: “The only way you can get anywhere is if you have money behind you.”
The conversation turns global: “As humans, it’s really important that we take action – join a union, go to protests, share resources, open discussions,” they discuss of their outspoken political angle.
“Number one, we’re a political band, so you have to put your money where your mouth is.”
I ask if that means we should all be as outspoken, politically riled up, but there’s still an empathetic recognition of the weight morality might bear on the soul, as “activism shouldn’t be a superiority contest.”
The tumultuous political landscape so evidently informs Who Let The Dogs Out, but our creative landscapes are changing, too. We are in an era of creative stagnation. Popular culture repeats itself, trends exist in cycles, the cinemas are overrun with franchise after lifeless franchise. How does it feel to be a successful creative in a creatively void culture? For them, this is a fact they take in their stride.
“I don’t think there’s anything totally original anymore. Everyone has influences, and if you pretend you don’t, you’re a liar and a coward. Great artists steal. Not saying we’re stealing, but we have influences.”
Turns out acceptance of the here and now can lead to great, emotional works. Turns out creating quick, hard and fast, the funny and the ugly, still operates as something that can bring us all together despite the endless change. All that’s left to do is enjoy the music. You heard it from them: “Live, laugh, fuck. It’s a great album. Bon appétit. No regrets.”
Photography By: Gabriel Monteregge
Interview Taken from Still Listening Magazine Issue Twelve: 07/03/2025