The words of Ruth Bader Ginsburg fall like a hammer upon the long stone of history: “When will there be enough women on the court? … when there are nine.” In their cadence lies both simplicity and revelation. For centuries, nine men seemed natural, inevitable; the architecture of law was built to exclude. Her retort is not whimsy, but justice inverted and restored. It forces us to confront the blindness of habit, the tyranny of assumption. To imagine nine women is not excess…it is balance, redress, and a vision of equality so clear it startles us awake.
New York City’s Bi Tyrant has never been subtle. Since their 2016 cult protest track F*** Donald Trump racked up millions of TikTok streams, the queer feminist punk-jazz/No Wave trio has specialized in sound-as-weaponry, bending rage into riffs and saxophone squalls into sermons. Now they return with their most urgent and unruly declaration yet: Bi Tyrant vs. The Supreme Court, a nine-track concept album set to drop September 23, 2025 (which happens to be Bi+ Visibility Day). If you want a metaphor for the pure rage of the Divine Feminine, this is it.
Bi Tyrant vs. The Supreme Court overflows with lyrical truths, torched to ashes by a Molotov cocktail. It’s smart, calculating, and fearless. Fronted by Brittany Anjou, a multi-instrumentalist composer and educator whose jazz credentials meet their punk ethos head-on, BiTyrant are joined by guitarist Valerie Vetere (drag persona in full blaze) and drummer Laura Cromwell (Cibo Matto, Laurie Anderson). Together they’ve built something furious, funny, and defiantly alive: a band bleeding out rhythm and resistance in equal measure.
This is no ordinary release. Structured around the monthly cycle, each single arrives like a bloodletting, a ritual act of resistance against a political system hellbent on legislating bodies it does not own. It’s a campaign as much as an album: menstrual protest in motion, politics inscribed in rhythm. Imagine, if you will, Laurie Anderson joining forces with Public Enemy and Pere Ubu.
It festers like rot beneath the floorboards, this swollen, festering pride called manhood. Red-pill prophets whisper dominion, feeding boys a diet of scorn and brittle rage. The manosphere becomes a sewer of entitlement, where cruelty struts as strength and tenderness is mocked into silence. June’s release, Incel B***h, thrashes against this toxic inheritance: a 21st-century echo of Bush Tetras’ Too Many Creeps.
July 4’s Put Nine Womxn on the Supreme Court followed with incendiary force, channeling Ruth Bader Ginsburg’s vision into a punk-jazz manifesto for representation. The lyrics satirize corrupt leadership through the image of a “bad dog,” attacking the Electoral College, toxic patriarchy, and the Supreme Court’s assault on bodily autonomy. They call for reproductive freedom, channel Ruth Bader Ginsburg’s vision of nine women justices, and demand representation – women, BIPOC, and trans voices – for true equality.
August’s Bloodslug slithers into unexpected territory, twisting menstrual imagery through a serene jazz ballad that mutates into Brazilian bossa nova – a sardonic reminder of jazz’s own gendered hierarchies. And when September arrives, seven more tracks land in a torrent of fury and improvisation, underscoring the anxiety and urgency of abortion rights in America.
The atonal protest of The Clibretto (How Many Womxn Are In Your Band?), dropping in October, takes aim at sexism in both the jazz industry and the Oval Office in one staggering breath. November’s post-release standalone, The Creator Has a Master Plan, featuring saxophonist Jessica Lurie, reframes Pharoah Sanders’ cosmic spirituality as feminist cosmology…another reminder that this band refuses to separate the personal from the political, or the sacred from the raw.
Bi Tyrant vs. The Supreme Court was engineered and mixed by the legendary Martin Bisi at Brooklyn’s legendary BC Studios, a site of sonic insurgency where Swans, Sonic Youth, Teenage Jesus and the Jerks, and Herbie Hancock have all collided. Bisi’s touch amplifies the contradictions at Bi Tyrant’s core: math metal rage smashed against grunge-punk noir, vibraphones shimmering under snarling guitars, flute and Rhodes emerging like sudden reprieves in a battlefield of distortion.
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