Album Of The Week: Screaming Females Ugly

Seeing Screaming Females live for the first time is a head-snap-back moment; until they're actually playing in front of you, there's no way you could possibly know the band is this good. Before the first time I saw them, I'd heard and read plenty of people singing their praises, but none of it actually prepared me for the image of Marissa Paternoster, singing in a pitched-up feral howl and choking blazing solos out of her guitar while at the same time looking absolutely bored with herself and everything around her. She's a ferociously talented frontwoman, and it's even more impressive to see her finding ways to show that talent off in the form of three-minute battering-ram punk songs; it's not like her rhythm section slows things down so she can let those solos erupt. That live show is a breathtaking thing, and I spent a decent chunk of that first show mentally slapping myself for taking so long to go see them; god knows I'd flaked out on plenty of opportunities beforehand. But cursory listens to a couple of the band's previous four albums were essentially why I took so long in getting to see them. Those albums had some good songs, but they also seemed muddy and unfocused, not like the band I'd heard so many good things about. With the brand-new Ugly, that's not an issue anymore.