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Grace Barr envelopes the sounds of traditional folk revivalists right into the contemporary spirit of the queer DIY punk scene of Australia. Growing up in Merseyside, Grace formed a punk-folk band called Slyng Shot with her older sister, moulding a sound of pop-country vocals, clawhammer banjo and harmony-driven choruses of rebellion and teenage angst.

Now, ten years later, and loosely based on Gadigal land. Grace roams with anthemic anecdotal evidence of current folklife. The rebellion of her earlier sound graduates to the country bravado of Patsy Cline. D.I.Y live recordings in basements and bars metamorphose into a brighter sound and vision, with sparkling hooks, elegant pop production (mixed by Bowen Shakallis at Stranded Records) and masochistic percussion by the illegally talented goddess of music Yolanda Frost.

She brings us a lyrical flutter of her times in forest blockades, train hopping in Alice Springs and heartbreak at a Kylie Minogue concert, but, having been involved in environmental activism at the early age of 16, the songs are frank. These histories are embedded in her melancholic vocal deliveries and haphazard phrases that, with only a short few lines, manage to portray a whole political vision.

Grace’s debut album is a damning and beautiful perception of love and loves lost, an energetic ride, and a celebration of lesbians who love road trips.