be nice princess stalks in like when you finally realise that a relationship has been straining you silently all this time. Julia Kate opens frailty, almost whispering, like you talk when you are still trying to be polite, yet you do not want to cause any disturbance. Then the beat comes, sharp and without fear and her vocal just has enough metal to make the hurt felt without losing its natural appeal.
Those glittering guitars shine like the polish you put on when you are hurting on the inside and you know that you should not show it, and the percussion hits like the dawning realisation that being constant accommodator has taken a lot more than you ever cared to notice. Whenever the chorus explodes it is the complete emotional relief, like closing the door behind you that you have kept open this long and unreasonable time. It is filled with pain, but it is no less than infused with that exhilarating feeling of being able to put yourself first at last.
I heard it first when I was clearing my address book, and deleting names of specific people was almost sacrilegious. The voice of Julia explores that very border of frailty and power, it is vulnerable enough to be worthy of what silence was paid so much, it is commanding enough to make you wish you could take up more room. At the ending chorus I was in tears, and an unstoppable smile as often as I could help, as occasionally the best answer is just to refuse to tear yourself down any further.
be nice princess is not just a song, it is the voice of a person who is recovering its power, one glorious, unapologetic note at a time. I have been having it spinning ever since, and each play seems like a express permission to stop apologising to be here in our entirety. Julia Kate has given us that anthem of people-pleaser that we so badly needed yet hardly knew it.
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