Batrider's Sarah Chadwick is an entertaining repository of rock antiheroism. Mooching about the world from Wellington to Melbourne to London and back to Melbourne again, staying till she cracks the craps with a place (she stayed in London a long time because the music scene was so crappy she felt a justified pleasure in isolating herself from it and living in a hermitic bubble), dumping the other members of her band and then beginning again, grinding out her dischordant, angsty songs with a new bunch of Batriders, somewhere else. Since exhaustion and failure are an integral part of the Batrider phenomenon, the slow leaching of the riot grrrl energy - with which the band originally monsterised those New Zealanders - seems artistically appropriate. Having said that, every now and then her unmistakable accent ascends to a harridan shriek that causes all about to break out in blisters. I truly believe that Batrider only still exists because she's too stubborn and self-hating to do anything else, but - and if I haven't made this clear, let me do so now - I'm really glad she is.