I first got to know Nicki through my Hyper Island. She showed up to study motion graphics in insanely high platforms, heavy eyelids and an overload of glitter and fur. A typical theatrical dream. Most of the time I think she skipped class though as I found her in the kitchen giggling away to social media updates or discussing the new Death From Above album to be closer to Backstreet Boys than punk. Obviously impossible not to fall for her.
All of the last times I bumped into her at school before the holisay she made me promise, for the eleventh time, that I would go see her play with her band Dolores Haze at the Old Blue Last in Shoreditch later that summer. I obviously didn’t need a lot of convincing as Dolores Haze are made up by the most badass punk ladies there are. So on a particularly rainy day I took the bus down to Shoreditch to smoke cigarettes outside the pub with her and her bandmates and then watch them do their first gig outside of Scandinavia.
The stage guys and organisers were rude (…….) but nothing triggers these chicks to blow people’s mind like douchy dudes. And minds were blown guys. Old men from the music industry stood with their grey beards and worn jeans drooling at the front waiting to sign them, write about them, be them. There were a lot of hard ons, running mascara, beer throwing and screaming. Check them out, it’ll be girl power overload.