I am retired grunge girl who now dabbles in housewifery. The angst coveting girl in flannel and cut-off grey sweats who listened to Nirvana, The Cure and Violent Femmes was left in the mid-nineties. Since then I had been looking for something. Music that excited me the way Smells like Teen Spirit had when I first heard it. The way The Pixies Bone Machine made me crave Japanese fast food. And though my torment had morphed from wild and dramatic teen agony to a quieter rebellion, I still needed a voice for it. I needed angst with