On a grey spring afternoon in Calgary where another fresh layer of snow touches the ground, that noise feels far away. The band is crammed shoulder to shoulder on a couch in their practice space. They talk over each other, interrupt, double back on stories and lean into one another as they remember how they came together like a true chosen family.

At their last performance, under the glistening strings of LED lights at Pizza Bobs Classic Pie, teenagers screamed the chorus to Rebel Grrrlz, a song from their first EP Eat Your Soul and the band smiles as they take in another set where their audience knows every word to every song. When they talk about people really connecting with their music, their eyes light up, having people pull you aside in school or on the street and recognize you is still a surreal experience for them.

Their sound pulls from riot grrrl lineage—think Bikini Kill, Kittie, Jack Off Jill—but it stretches beyond any one label. It’s loud, distorted, and emotionally rooted in punk but certainly not confined by it. “Loud riot girl punk with a lot of distortion. We’re pretty edgy,” vocalist Tuula Gould tells RANGE when asked to describe their sound.

In their practice space, when they’re all in the room, it feels smaller but more alive. It sits at the back of the yard behind Tuula and Cricket’s home, a small outbuilding that feels part garage, part tiny home. It’s their own little retreat or calm in the storm away from the chaos of the world. 

As they pose with barely any direction against a backdrop of instruments, their silhouettes take on that coven energy, five figures gathered in a circle of sound instead of candles.

That energy traces back to how the band came together. Guitarists Cricket Gould and Finley Lawrence, bassist Pauline Simm, Tuula, and drummer Scarlet Hagel all grew up around music. Their parents played in bands, worked on tours, or shot music videos, and the members crossed paths long before Rebel Grrrlz formally existed.

“Ever since we were younger, we had all these weird little connections,” Finley says. “Tuula, Cricket and I met really young because my dad was filming a music video, and we did not even realize we were in the same one until recently. I met Pauline when I was really young because our parents were connected too. We’ve known each other forever.”

The band officially formed in 2022 through Calgary’s BAM! Camp (formerly Girls Rock Camp), though the current lineup first connected in 2020. When their original drummer stepped away due to injury, Hagel filled the gap almost instantly.

When the band put out a call for drummers, most sent in videos. Hagel showed up in person. That willingness to just be in the room has defined Rebel Grrrlz from the start. Their debut EP, Eat Your Soul, captures that raw immediacy—tracked with help from Tuula and Cricket’s dad before being professionally mastered. More recently, they stepped into a different environment entirely, recording new material at OCL Studios, a sprawling mansion space that offered a glimpse of what a larger-scale version of the band might look like.

That trajectory became real when they landed a slot on the Coca-Cola Stage at the Calgary Stampede. “We were like, yeah, we made it. We’re out of the local shows, and playing a really big stage,” Tuula says.

They were told they drew the largest crowd of the day. Looking out at a sea of cowboys moshing to their songs, the moment felt bigger than the setting. They each describe it as the most nervous they’ve ever been while looking at each other.

“Everyone was just kind of connected in that moment, and just ignoring the differences between each other,” Finley says. Even as they move onto bigger stages, the band’s foundation stays rooted in community. Their shows are intentionally shaped as safer spaces—places where people can feel loud, emotional, and seen.

“In a lot of our songs, it mentions being gay,” Tuula says. “We kind of sneak it in there.” “Being gay or a woman in Alberta is kind of challenging sometimes,” Finley adds. “We talk about standing up to frustrating, oppressive stuff, especially right now with all the political tension.”

That tension fuels some of their most direct material. Finley points to their 2025 track “Beach” as one of their most overtly political songs, written in response to Donald Trump’s second election win. A moment that feels both global and personal.

Outside of their own releases, the band has started branching into other creative worlds. Their upcoming track “Nemesis” appears as the end-credit song for a short film by Edmonton filmmaker Sylvia Douglas, a dark, mythic story about a god who destroys men who have wronged women. The collaboration taps into the same cathartic energy that runs through their music.

Not every show is that polished. They all pause for a moment, sitting side by side, then lean into each other to laugh about a Halloween set that fell apart mid-performance. “We were playing ‘In the House of Flies,’ and it was in a totally different tuning, and I couldn’t tune my guitar,” says Cricket. “So I had to get my dad to tune it for me while we were on stage, and then my guitar blasted so that it didn’t work. And then I had to fake-play the entire show.”

Despite the chaos of the show, people didn’t seem to care—or even really notice. The band cringes as they remember it to be the worst show they’ve played thus far. Yet threaded through the embarrassment of broken instruments and uncomfortable rapping—which Tuula was subjected to, something she did not particularly enjoy—they remember how they picked themselves up and kept going, and how much fun people actually had.

Moments like that sit alongside the bigger wins, all part of a scene that still runs on relationships more than industry mechanics. “Especially a couple years ago, the scene was really tight, I feel,” Finley says. “It was just a bunch of friends all together, just hanging out, of all age groups, just coming together to listen to music. A lot of the bands in Calgary, you’re kind of friends with them. You really know each other.”

That DIY ethic carries into how they operate as a band. Money from shows goes straight back into recording, merch, and keeping things moving forward. “None of us actually take the money we get from shows,” Tuula says. “We put it in a band box and put it towards merch, stickers, and recording.”

What keeps it all working is the balance between them. While talking with them, I noticed some of them were louder, some were quieter, some quick to jump in, while others were content to wait until they had the right sentence. Either way, space is always made for each of them. “Everybody in our band is really different,” Scarlet says. “We all show uniqueness and everybody has their own special thing they bring.”

That mix of personalities, influences, and experiences has helped Rebel Grrrlz grow quickly without losing what made them compelling in the first place. Next up, they’re looking toward Sled Island this June and continuing work toward a full-length album. The stages are getting bigger, the crowds louder, and the stakes higher, but the core of the band hasn’t shifted. They’re still just showing up, playing loud, and seeing how far it can take them.