Militarie Gun with special guests Softcult, Shady Nasty & Dazy

Militarie Gun’s new album, God Save The Gun, starts with a confession. “I’ve been slipping up” frontman Ian Shelton roars on the opening cut “B A D I D E A.” It’s real vulnerability tucked amongst distorted bass and blown-out drums, and the perfect introduction to one of the most exciting records of the year. This isn’t just a sonically daring, massive swing of a rock album, it’s also a very human document of being at your worst when you should be on top of the world – an absurdist guide to the intersection of self-destruction and self-belief. "I’m well aware that being this vulnerable turns my personal trauma into a marketing hook for this album,” Shelton says. “But I’m fine with it, if not provoking it. Over the past couple years, as I spoke about addiction from the perspective of someone affected by it, I became the one struggling with it. There’s a farcical logic to entering a situation, fully knowing the consequences, and doing it anyway–but that’s where my head was when I started leaning on drinking.” Militarie Gun’s 2023 debut album, Life Under The Gun was centered around lifelong cycles of hurt, with the singer looking back at growing up with family members struggling with addiction, and while God Save The Gun is still tethered to that history, this time, he’s not the witness—he’s the protagonist. It wasn’t until the band was scheduled to enter the studio in early 2025 that Shelton realized he was the one who needed to hear God Save The Gun’s message. “I thought I was playing a character, but it was becoming my reality,” he explains. "Right before recording, it hit me that I was really losing control and needed to do something about it. I looked at the record as a whole and could see that it was a note to myself – when I read back those lyrics, I could clearly see they’re saying ‘yeah man, you’re fucking up.’” Despite all of the inner turmoil leading to God Save The Gun, Shelton and his bandmates – guitarists William Acuña and Kevin Kiley, bassist Waylon Trim, and drummer David Stalsworth – more than rose to the challenge of following up Militarie Gun’s acclaimed debut. Stalsworth, Trim, and Kiley all joined during Life Under The Gun’s extensive touring cycle after a series of member shakeups that would hobble most bands, but only made Militarie Gun stronger. “It took us a long time to find the right people to be in this band but it feels like all the pieces have finally fallen into place,” Shelton says. “It’s like we’ve had a fast car for a while but we just now figured out how to drive it. We wrote for three years consistently because our intention was to make a classic record—full stop. The songs need to be as emotional as possible but the music needs to fully hit too. Big ideas need big songs.” God Save The Gun certainly lives up to that credo, and to do it, the band recruited a village of new and old collaborators. Shelton continued his creative relationship with songsmith Phillip Odom, co-wrote with longtime conspirator and frequent harmonizer James Goodson of Dazy, and newly tapped Nick Panella of MSPAINT, among others. “Phil really taught me how to sing, he knows my voice better than anyone,” says Shelton. “Or sometimes it’s about bringing in a fresh perspective – I call someone like James or Nick because those guys write songs in a totally different way than I do.” That outside view also came from producer / engineer Riley MacIntyre (Adele, Arlo Parks, The Kills), who was chosen not only to make the songs sound huge, but also to access the sentiments behind them. “We went with Riley because he’s the emotional producer,” Shelton says. “We wanted someone who locked in with what the songs were about, not just how they sounded. And he was so dedicated – we would do 14-hour days and Riley would be there an hour before me and an hour after I left.” God Save The Gun does indeed feel massive, but it’s the sound of real people working together to make something bigger than themselves–not computer-replaced perfectionism. And its musical scope is matched by its lyrical depths. The album’s cover art depicts Shelton as a cult leader, subverting the idea of a charismatic rock n’ roll messiah: the vocalist is selling salvation when he’s the one in need, a sly jab at the commodification of art and self-help. “The album has a pretty defined arc,” Shelton explains. “Sometimes I think people like me more when I'm at my worst and the first few songs are about seeking external validation – needing people or drugs or alcohol to provide your value, anything but yourself. Then it’s songs that reflect on what I went through when I was younger and coming away with the wrong conclusions. It’s kind of ridiculous, me thinking ‘I saw my mom attempt homicide, so it’s ok for me to get out of control as long as it’s less than that.' After that the album gets manic. Then it’s the hard comedown after the episode, where the stakes get very real.” God Save The Gun‘s begins with “Pt II,” a spoken word intro where Shelton sets the tone, admitting “things have not been great” before kicking into the pissed-off pogo of “B A D I D E A.” The record then surges forward with “Fill Me With Paint” and “Throw Me Away,” two gigantic alt-rock barnburners that sound more confident than ever despite lyrics of biting self-doubt and paranoia. It’s a magic trick that Militarie Gun performs throughout the record: hyper-energetic songwriting that makes the heavy lyrical content hit even harder. “God Owes Me Money” follows, a defiant synth-flecked rocker that just might be the jewel of the record and ties Shelton’s past to his present. “The idea of god or the universe owing you something because of the bad hand you’ve been dealt is just a brash idea that I really connect to,” he says. “It’s my right to redefine my pain and make it pay me.” Next on the hazy acoustic ballad “Daydream” Shelton begins to subconsciously realize he might have a problem, but things get messier and more complicated from there as the narrative and the music jackknife through turbulence. “I was trying to make an album with so much chaos in my life and in my head,” Shelton says. “A break-up, crazy touring, family trouble from the past, family trouble from now It’s hard for me not to just lean into the absurdity of it all sometimes, like if you’re not laughing you’re crying.” God Save The Gun swings from the punk stomp of “Maybe I’ll Burn My Life Down,” to the Killing Joke sampling rave up of “Kick,” to the chiming jangle pop of “Laugh At Me,” tackling nihilistic abandon, anger, and love–all that mania channels into the record’s harrowing next chapter. “I’m a depressed person and so much of this has really just been about trying to find a distraction from that,” Shelton says plainly. “At the end of the day it’s not appropriate for me to talk about a lot of the things I see in my brain – it would bum people out – so the only place I have for this stuff is in these songs.” Shelton puts that idea to the test with “I Won’t Murder Your Friend,” an agonizing portrayal of suicidal ideation that’s very intentionally drained of any possible romanticization. “I grew up hearing songs that glorified suicide and I wanted to write a song that de-glorified it,” he explains. “I heard David Choe talking about Anthony Bourdain with that perspective – that suicide doesn’t make you the glorious martyr, you’re the selfish murderer and your own life isn’t the only casualty – it really stuck with me and he let us put that audio into the track.” Thankfully God Save The Gun stops short of the abyss, with Shelton finding hope by looking outside himself. “The album gets more empathetic,” Shelton says. “It becomes about realizing you’ve been missing that other people are struggling because you’re so wrapped up in your own problems." That glimmer of hope carries into God Save The Gun‘s climactic title track, a song that tries to reject the cycle of bad choices and bad results. If reveling in self-destruction didn’t work then maybe only the hardest option is left: change. “Your people love you, they don’t let it show / and I know you’re out of control,” Shelton howls over top of churning bass and tremolo guitars, singing each verse to the various characters that populate the song’s unhinged existential party-gone-wrong. Suzy, Martin, Blaine, Lucy, Liam – Shelton rattles off the names with increasing desperation, as if he’s trying to direct the lines to anyone but himself. “It’s me speaking to other people, but I was the person who needed to hear what I was saying the most,” he admits. “You shouldn’t have to wait until your life is completely destroyed to try to improve it, and I don’t want to lose what I've worked for because I have a drinking problem.” The song’s twisting structure hurls the listener through exhilarating dynamic shifts before abruptly cutting to just bass and vocals for its final lines: “If you want to keep your life, you gotta let it go,” Shelton sings, his voice resolute. God can’t save The Gun but he can do it himself.