The album cover functions as the meeting point between the 1990s and wherever we are today. Taken backstage at a now defunct music venue, the cover pictures York warming up for a gig. “I love watching her warm up,” Wilson gushes. “She’s just air hitting and doing her kick drum. I love playing the game of guessing what song she’s playing. It wasn’t hard until now because we only had so many songs. I took a picture of her because I liked the framing of the mirror and all the colours.” 

In the image, framed by bold capital letters, I see Wilson crouched on what could be anything – from toilet to couch – behind York in her headphones looking down at her phantom drum kit. On the counter in front of them lies a pile of clothes, what I imagine is an emotional support water bottle, and a neat juxtaposition between past and present: York’s metronome and an iPhone. The cover symbolises “our version of photo-copying, messy zine stuff from back in the day,” York says. 

Simply by creating their music, Team Dresch were able to capture a slice of the underground queer zeitgeist of the 1990s. Zines and independent record labels epitomised those days, as did Team Dresch – but where does that leave us today? It’s mostly young hipsters who want a return to the inaccessibly cool analogue IRL days. The old farts either never left or evolved with the times. Bands like Bikini Kill and Bratmobile could take a page out of Team Dresch’s book and tell us where they are today, or just keep singing “Suck My Left One” – honestly, either way is fine. More music isn’t always better music. Nevertheless, as all three bands know, staying true to your muse always brings the house down. 

Team Dresch are still motivated by the same fire as 30 years ago: the fire’s just “a little older. A little bit more experienced with tragedy, trauma, the rollercoaster of life. We might just be a little bit more tired.”