Women get to be slovenly in 2015, but only as a neatly prescribed aesthetic. Bed-mussed hair, day-after smudged make-up (even better than fresh!), cute sweatpants, wide-eyed avowal of inability to keep a clean house. The mythological cool girl is not a prissy bitch; maybe she farts and spills cheeseburger juice down her threadbare tank, all for your delight! But Childbirth—who who previously "only fucked you as a joke"—are nasty girls, who'll "sneeze in your drink," piss in your shower, and, if you're lucky, embrace you with a booger-festooned sleeve.

The Seattle supergroup revel in all the effluvia that induces so much discreet pearl-clutching, with Chastity Belt's Julia Shapiro leering "naaasteee gurrrls" while Tacocat's Bree McKenna offers up the bath-dodging evidence. There's a stubborn, unrelenting swagger to the guitar and bass (backed on drums by Pony Time's Stacy Peck) that underpins the humanity of what they sing about. That in turn recalls a passage in Viv Albertine's autobiography about Ari Up relieving herself on stage: "Ari didn't do it to be a rebel or to shock, it was much more subversive than that: She just needed a piss."