Forget Cassettes might hail from Nashville, home of country, but this lot aren’t your typical yee-hawing Ole Opry revivalists. Beth Cameron, smouldering heroine at the band’s centre, channels the sort of whisper-to-shriek Polly Harvey vocal histrionics and napalm-spraying guitar to make a thousand indie boys tremble with
a strange mix of adolescent lust and abject terror. “I won’t be anyone’s number two”, she purrs, on ‘Quiero, Quieres’ – a bitter break-up song that’s already scanning the horizon for the next lover. Don’t mistake Cameron as a bunny boiler, though: ‘Salt’ gets way weirder than that on the likes of ‘Venison’, which opens with a firestorm of Fugazi guitars, but cools into a torch song that holds conversations with roadkill.