visceral, spontaneous and kooky are all justifiably applicable descriptions, yet only begin to go some way to describing all-girl north london rock'n'roll racketeers Headless. there is certainly nothing ordinary about these girls, starting with that name. "it's from return to Oz", states a demonically grinning Chrissie Clarke, the band's singer, "after the headless princess. she had a room full of heads in jars, one for each mood. she was genuinely scary, man!". Clare James-Clare on bass, Nell Eu on drums and Camille Boland-Benett back up Ms Clarke. they met, like many bands, through a mutual appreciation of live music and a desire to hear DJ's choice cuts "that we actually liked". and so it was the famously homoerotic london-based Club Motherfucker played host to not only their drunken handshakes and future plans, but also to their disastrous, yet now legendary first gig. "we performed two songs and they pulled the plug", laments Camille. "we were totally gutted, all our friends were there, but hey we had only ever had one practice". it turns out that the aforementioned "practice" took place on the day of the gig with a severely jetlagged Nell, ironically only just "returning from Oz! i flew in from australia and hooked up with Chrissie and Camille, Clare wasn't even there!", and with one member - who was chosen to remain anonymous - suffering from the backlash of a "fucking bad mushroom trip". so, their virgin gig may have been ramshackle, but it humiliated the girls en ought to set the precedent for what was to ensue. the hellbent drive to "get good" involved rehearsing mercilessly, listening attentively to the bands that inspired them to pick up instruments in the first place - Sonic Youth, The Cramps, QOTSA and early Hole - and committing to a gruelling gig schedule that has taken them up and down the country ensuring that Headless has become an incredibly tight "combat rock" unit. affirmative action paid off and within the space of a few months, they have gained a devoted following, released their pounding debut single "Sway", and landed the enviable support slot for Test Icicles' final farewell gig last month. so what could possibly be the next pitstop over the horizon? "we want to play festivals, especially Fuji Rock, we want to have luxury riders, find Tad, support the Butthole Surfers and have a Headless private jet". perhaps the mushrooms are still kicking in? perhaps not. Dazed and Confused

Headless miss out on PlayLouder's Single Of The Week accolade by a mere strand of spinal chord and blood vessel for their debut single, 'Sway'. The Headless ladies first three tracks seem to progress further into some twisted, noisy place with every listen. The title track is the vicious snapper, which we very much doubt is directed at the internet-fearing rap chap of the same name; instead it's Hole done through a taut, new wave hook. 'Holy Man' sends itself even more deranged through a sparser sound of cheap keyboards to create something dark and sultry – and by the time we reach stand-out track 'Anything', Headless have progressed in a decidedly doomy direction, this song couldn't get any more goth if it was wearing those daft boots with springs in the heels, 15, and from Basingstoke. Great gloom, great gloom. PlayLouder

And you thought Riot Grrrl was dead? In truth though, this insolent all-girl quartet from the north of the Capital packs a noisier and far more sinister punch than any of those angry young women of the early 90’s. Reference points aren’ t too difficult to grasp, channeling Harvey on the scathing opener and Sioux on the creepier “Holy Man”, but their layers of fucked-up guitar create a suffocating sonic peasouper which in a live situation could probably shrivel an indie boy’s gonads at twenty paces. Artrocker

Definitely prefer the raw and dirty-sounding Headless. Here are some really angry riot grrrly-esque “banshees” making music with more balls than most of the grunge and garage rock bands touting about at the moment. Think Sleater-Kinney taking pointers from early PJ Harvey, and it wouldn't be nearly half as bitter as this quartet of screechers. Quality. The Stool Pigeon

All female rock band Headless create quite a racket. All tracks are swamped in glorious distortion, with strong raw growling vocals conjuring up images of an angry P.J. Harvey in the early days. First track Sway is as catchy as you are gonna get for this type of jarring rock, with the other three tracks going off in Erase Errata-style tangents that are always appropriate. Think late seventies Lydia Lunch with actual songs! 84%. Spill Magazine

Four punk rock valkyries in vintage baby-doll dresses, London's Headless are proof that a lack of musical virtuosity is no barrier when combined with an unquenchable passion for resurrecting rock's grunge diaries. Mining Sonic Youth's art noise, Holes pretty/ravaged volume dynamics and Babes In Toyland's femme-rock rage as their well-worn inspirations, Headless' crowning glory can be found in Chrissie, their living, screaming firebrand of a frontwoman. Some evenings she's to be found rolling around the stage in a primal witch-rock trance, but tonight she's happy to stay static in front of the mic stand, letting her retching guttural snarl do the shouting. "Sway" is all lumbering power chords, crashing hi-hats and throat-ripping Cobain catharsis, while future single "Stampede" sounds like one of Polly Jean Harvey's eerie midnight tales being soundtracked by metal goliaths Black Sabbath. In short, it's the sort of raw, gnashing noise, we could easily, um, lose our heads over. boom, tish! Krissi Murison, NME

HEADLESS RULE: four London girls melding Melvins sludge, Sonic Youth squall and Babes In Toyland screech into a super-intense wall-of-noise that'll level all comers. Forthcoming single 'Stampede' is the peach of the set, a deafening blast of riffage finessed by singer/guitarist Chrissie's Patti Smith yowl. Expect massive things in their future. Stevie Chick, Kerrang