The singer’s got a voice like Gracie Slick, and she sounds like she sincerely means every word she enunciates about her gray sweatshirt with the hole in it.
Three records later and Vader have soaked up like so much bile, the work of all those New York and Florida technical deathsters, ingesting and learning it well.
They’re on Reznor’s Nothing label. But so’s Manson. The singer has a snotty, sneering voice, like The Divinyls, or maybe Wendy O. Williams with a head cold.
I’m here to print writing. Writing about Life, the Universe and Everything, cleverly tucked between such standard lines as “it rocks!” and “chugging guitars.”