Music: Screaming Females

Hold the phones, I think I've found a new punk rock heroine, and she comes in the shape of a surly, sulky pint-sized guitar goddess with hair like the lovechild of Chrissie Hynd and Justin Bieber and a scream like nails in a frying pan. She is Marissa from the band Screaming Females and she took me and the rest of the audience to pieces last night in the goold old Luminaire in Kilburn.

Man alive can she play. Fucking yes she can. Watch:



The band's new album, Castle Talk, is out any day I suggest you do all in your power to wallow in its grunge-punk fury. It's absolutely, ear-bleedingly, head-bangingly tops. Plus, their live show beats anything they've recorded. Literally. With a stick. It is a sight to behold.

Word to the wise though, approach this little fucker with caution. She ended the set yesterday with a twenty second long solo in which her eyes rolled into the back of her head like the sick chick in The Exorcist. Then she collapsed to the floor. I have reason to believe she is, officially, a demon.