We are told they are rebellious and irreverent, but the Donnas, in the end, are nothing to write home about. They are however sparky little minxes, writing original songs about drinking beer, smoking, cute boys, and dirty boys.

The sound could be described as the soundtrack to the pissup after the Motorcross rally, the album tracks loaded with a relentless 4/4 beat that brooks no deviation into the blues influence that makes guitar rock of the 21st century so compelling. Big hairboy powerchords are interspersed with Donna R's resurrected guitar wheedly-wheedly that one might have thought to have died with the LA glam rock scene of the 1980s.

It's not that I don't like girl bands. In fact, I tend to think they have more interesting things to say than your average group of 20-something lads. But when it comes to the pantheon of women in rock, the Donnas have yet to cut a distinguished figure. The Donna's cutesy, euphemistic paean to boys' members, entitled 'Big Rig' leaves them staring wistfully outside the big girls' room when compared to something like Liz Phair's infamous 'Flower', or anything by PJ Harvey. Let alone their NY Riot Grrrl predecessors, in the days before Courtney Love gave up stage diving for Versace.

It's not just the lack of syncopation, the disturbing reliance on LA metal bands for inspiration or the boys, beer and shopping mall fixations of the lyrics, the Donnas lack a certain oomph. While singer Donna A, sounds stroppy enough to give a good tongue lashing in the mega mall car park, her range seldom changes, continuing on a sub-Justine Frischmann level snarling, without that lugubrious edge.

But in this day and age, when girl bands are made on telly and don't play instruments, we should be thankful for a group that has been jamming together since the age of 14. All hail the Donnas.

words: Erikka Askeland