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Cleo Tucker and Harmony Dividad are angry. The LA musicians' debut EP as Girlpool, out on Wichita, begins with the line "you leave me crying in the fucking rain" and doesn't get any less bitter, gritty or unapologetic from there.

Every lyric that makes up these fleeting seven tracks is spat out with an intoxicating intensity by both women, and tackles a myriad of issues, from jealousy to sexism to slut-shaming to getting down to American Beauty, and work in contrast with the boppy, bass-led dual instrumentation.

Opener 'Blah Blah Blah' is angry and frenetic, with a chorus that cries out for a clattering drum beat to give it the hugeness it deserves; the nature of Girlpool as a guitar/bass two-piece leads to the song's scrappy guitar solo getting carried away in the wind with an emptiness the bass can't quite carry. It's the EP's poppiest, quickest moment, and as an opening track arrives as a bit of a jolt, with such eccentricity taking a little time to gel with an audience.

The slowing down of the majority of the tracks on the rest of the record works to give a sound with more body; one the consistently brilliant lyrics deserve. 'Love Spell', though, is a thirty-seven-second whirlwind, with guitar and bass working in tandem perfectly, weaving in and out of each other, flowing over lyrics telling the character to "go to hell" and "cut off your fingers".

In the EP's second half, Girlpool as a two-piece with no drums begins to make more and more sense. 'Jane''s almost country swagger is infectious, and embodies a number of other-worldly screams that could almost define the pair in an ear-splitting second.

Lyrically, Girlpool feels like a mission statement as well as a never-ending book of invaluable advice; on 'Jane', Tucker and Dividad exclaim "girls and boys if you are listening, don't ever feel imprisoned, like your mouth is glued tight shut; if you are a Jane put your fist up too". 'Slutmouth' is the album's most out-there lyrical statement, and, depressingly, will prove largely relatable to a great portion of its audience, tackling gender roles, street harassment and not wanting to "get fucked by a fucked society". Although it's delivered through an amiable folk-pop sheen, there is no hiding how sincere these words are, and that they are intended to be consumed as such.

Through Girlpool's seven tracks, the band grow into their make-up as a two-piece with aplomb, complementing each other with both voice and instruments. With this much anger, unapologetic social commentary and ambition crushed into just sixteen minutes, the promise of more to come from Girlpool is irresistible.

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