With “Even If I Pray,” Irish alt-rocker Queen Bitch (Róisín Bohan) plants her flag firmly in the soil of modern grunge revival – delivering a thunderous anthem that seethes with pain, roars with resilience, and refuses to shrink for anyone. The single arrives alongside its B-side “A Popular Song,” forming a duo of uncompromising tracks that explore emotional reckoning, social disillusionment, and the hard-won catharsis of rebirth.

While still early in her recorded discography, Queen Bitch’s sound is already unmistakably hers: jagged and unflinching, but shot through with melodic sensitivity and a refusal to surrender. “Even If I Pray” is the kind of song that doesn’t ask permission – it just kicks the door in.

From the very first note, “Even If I Pray” grabs you by the collar. Drenched in distortion and wrapped in blues-inflected grit, the instrumentation pulses with a nervy momentum that evokes the heyday of ’90s alt-rock while still feeling urgent and modern. The production – helmed by David Virgin at Beardfire Studios – is slick and tactile, with a wall of guitars that feels almost sculpted around Queen Bitch’s voice.

Vocally, Róisín Bohan brings a storm of raw emotion. Her delivery veers between aching vulnerability and full-throated defiance, reminiscent of grunge icons like Shirley Manson or Courtney Love, but with a uniquely Irish lilt and a poetic intensity all her own. The climactic guitar solo doesn’t just soar – it scorches, leading the track into a near-religious release before slamming you back down to earth in the final bars.

There’s no polish-for-radio here – just fire, sweat, and soul. It’s both tightly executed and emotionally chaotic in the best way.

At its core, “Even If I Pray” is about the unbearable weight of the past – scars that don’t fade, wounds that faith alone can’t mend. But more than a lament, it’s a refusal to be undone by what came before. The song wrestles with powerlessness but never wallows in it; instead, it claws toward light, carrying the listener through grief and into a place of hard-earned strength.

Lines fall like confessions, equal parts eulogy and exorcism. There’s a near-spiritual desperation to the lyrics, but instead of offering answers, Queen Bitch offers truth. Brutal, necessary truth.

And when the track explodes into its instrumental climax, that’s the moment it transcends: the sound of someone breaking the chains, even if they’re still bruised from wearing them.

Queen Bitch doesn’t just nod to rock’s legacy – she inherits it. She brings the ferocity of grunge, the swagger of blues, and the emotional complexity of modern alternative music into one unapologetic package. With Dublin’s underground scene already taking notice, and a debut album on the way, her rise feels inevitable.

What sets her apart is a sense of purpose. These aren’t just songs – they’re personal reckonings. And “Even If I Pray” is less a track than it is a manifesto: a testament to surviving the unspeakable and singing through the wreckage anyway.

“Even If I Pray” is thunder wrapped in melody, sorrow carved into sound. It’s the cry of someone who has stared down everything that tried to silence her – and chose to scream louder. With its release, Queen Bitch doesn’t just enter the alt-rock conversation – she commands attention.

And if this is the ground floor, the ceiling’s about to shake.