Brooklyn’s Grim Streaker occasionally promote shows with a photo in which four slices of pizza lie in a bent box on the floor of a smoky, crowded room. Pale light filters between the legs of tightly-jeaned, black-booted punks filling the room. And while the slender limbs and moody lighting feel like something out of Caravaggio, the subject matter—a box of pizza—is almost defiantly absurd. It’s an appropriate metaphor for Grim Streaker’s debut EP Girl Minority: it’s grim at face value, but full of irreverent humor.
The songs on the EP have the grind and rattle of early Joy Division, the buzz of Bikini Kill, and a healthy smear of the Cramps’ grime. Vocalist Amelia Bushell is raucous and commanding throughout, her laser-guided vocals giving the songs a threatening edge. Bushell’s confidence and range seem to develop throughout Girl Minority’s four tracks, bursting with manic energy by the time she arrives at the album-closing “Miami Girl.” In that song, she howls out accounts of the debauchery that she and guitarist Dan Peskin witnessed in the city that gives the song its title. “I got my face ripped, in Miami,” she howls, “I got my nose chopped off, in Miami.” As the song accelerates, she sarcastically repeats, “Come at me, bro!” before lunging into a bug-eyed shriek. That a song full of primal rage peaks with tongue-in-cheek volatility lays out Grim Streaker’s M.O. in short strokes.