Preview: Gal Gun’s ‘Critical Hit’ Truly Deserves To Be a Hit, and Not Just With Critics

Chicago's Gal Gun released their second album Critical Hit last December, which was clearly an excellent time to release music. Not. But I am of the strong opinion that in the dark vortex that sucked away attention from most music released during the height of the pandemic, this is one of the albums that absolutely deserves to be rescued and find a larger audience. Gal Gun practices—and I don’t apply this term to most bands since its become such an amorphous genre indicator in general—power pop of the sharpest variety. The guitars are cranked to loud-as-hell volumes and the rhythm section bashes and thrums away, all the while delivering heavenly yet punchy vocal melodies. But this isn't clumsy garage stuff, these are finely constructed tunes that keeps the vibe feeling loose, though you can be assured the folks in Gal Gun are always holding tightly to the reins. It’s a party in your ears and you’ll want to invite everyone to share the experience of listening to this joyous explosion. The production on Critical Hit is meticulous as far as shaping the sound, resulting is tight tight tight tunes, but there’s enough blurring at the very distant edges of the various layers of each track that this sounds like it could still fit onstage at an all ages venue in the mid-afternoon, powered by the cruddiest of sound systems. Tonight Gal Gun plays a show at Liar’s Club, so you can be assured that the sound will be far better than a basement show, but I’m betting that the energy level of that kinda show will still be in effect. The band is joined on the bill tonight by Wet Night and Rexxx, and the show is slated to start at 9 p.m. P.S. If you pick up the album, which I obviously highly recommend, the band is still offering a limited edition vinyl version filled with tons of goodies—like posters, booklets, stickers, and the like—that I also highly recommend!
Picture of the author
Jim Kopeny / Tankboy

Tankboy resides in the body of Jim Kopeny and lives in Mayfair with Pickle the Kitten and a beagle named Betty (RIP) who may actually be slightly more famous than most of the musicians slogging through the local scene. He's written about music for much longer than most bands you hear on the radio have even existed.