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Rioting grrrlishly on singles like “Oh Bondage! Up Yours!” and “Identity” (“When you see yourself/Does it make you scream?”) a generation before Kathleen Hanna uncapped her first Sharpie, were one of a handful of bands to turn English punk’s scouring negativity to feminist ends.
The energy of the room was less like a punk show and more like a family affair with a hundred or so cool cousins you’ve never met. I wasn’t worried that my jacket would get stolen. I didn’t care that I was wearing Ugg boots and not combat boots.