THE PACK A.D.

Unpersons

thepackafterdeath.com

Listening to the fourth album from this Canadian garage-rock duo, an image emerges of singer Becky Black. She’s red-eyed and sneering, hurt and angry, seconds away from either breaking down and bawling or bashing someone in the teeth. Her gnashing guitar riffs suggest the latter, as does Maya Miller’s total-war drumming. Their sound is violent and cathartic, and on “Rid of Me”—a start-stop rager reminiscent of Joan Jett’s “Bad Reputation”—Black relishes extricating herself from an unhappy relationship. “I can get a new hairdo and a new attitude,” she taunts, “but you’re still you.” She can be self-critical, too, but the songs remain the same: soulful, scornful and tuneful.