Scene Queen, born Hannah Collins, has carved out a niche in the alt music landscape by embracing contradictions and turning them into anthems. With a sound that fuses hyper-pop, metalcore, and feminist punk, her music is unapologetically loud and unapologetically pink.
She coined the term “bimbocore” as a way to reclaim traditionally derogatory labels like “bimbo” and “airhead,” flipping them on their head to celebrate femininity, sexuality, and self-empowerment. In a scene often dominated by masculine energy, Collins’ bimbocore is both a musical genre and a cultural statement—hyper-feminine, subversive, and riotous, taking up space in a way that demands to be seen and heard. Tonight she is playing the Crowbar in Sydney.
Tonight at The Crowbar, the room pulses with the electric hum of a packed house. Local openers Penni Parker and Chez are first to grace the stage, swiftly pulling the diverse crowd into their orbit. There’s an easy joy in their performances, a sort of effortless communion between artist and audience that sets the tone for the night.
But it’s when Scene Queen takes the stage that the night shifts gears entirely. Everything is drenched in pink, a bold, almost sugary contrast to the heavy riffs that follow. She’s here to melt faces, not play into stereotypes.
Her energy is nothing short of chaotic brilliance. Scene Queen moves like a pinball in motion—sharp turns, rebounds, and full-on collisions with the limits of the stage. It’s over the top in the best possible way, a deliberate spectacle of high-octane performance art. Between songs, she banters with the crowd, disarming them with stories about growing up in a small town, feeling out of place, and sneaking off to concerts alone. There’s a vulnerability beneath her bravado, a connection she makes with the loners, the misfits, the ones who’ve always felt like outsiders.
In a gesture that transcends typical crowd interaction, she brings two women onstage. They’re part of a sorority she’s founded for fans who need a sense of belonging. “If you’re feeling alone tonight, now you know someone else here,” she tells us, and for a moment, the room feels smaller, more intimate. It’s a rare, genuine moment in a world of manufactured stage personas.
Of course, the night isn’t without its irreverence. When someone tosses a koala plush her way, she jokes about avoiding kisses with the animal due to the risk of catching chlamydia—then shrugs off the concern because “it’s treatable with antibiotics.” The crowd asks for a shoey, a local ritual she declines, citing her fragile immune system. The balance between her playful swagger and earnest connection is razor-sharp, the mark of an artist who knows exactly how to command a room.
Scene Queen’s rise has been meteoric, and based on tonight’s show, it’s clear why. Her music is infectious, her stage presence undeniable. With one more stop on her Australian tour, it’s hard to imagine she’ll be playing rooms this size for much longer. Catch her now, because she’s destined for bigger stages and louder crowds.
Scene Queen’s Shake your Aus Tour moves to Brisbane’s The Brightside next.
