For a time, it was nearly impossible to see the pure, unfettered ferocity of these creatures in the flesh. But about two years ago, hope arrived in the form of The Pack a.d., an unassuming duo who reintroduced listeners to a blistering assault of scuffed, scarred bluesy riffs, pounding drums and unholy howls -- rock 'n' roll as it was meant to be played. Drummer Maya Miller and guitarist/vocalist Becky Black may have cut their teeth on the mean streets of East Vancouver, but their superb recordings Tintype and Funeral Mixtape (both released in 2008 on Mint Records) made it clear that these were no city-girl dilettantes: both of 'em had something wild and wonderful running through their veins. Those lucky enough to witness The Pack a.d.'s performances staggered out of those clubs feeling as though they'd been demolished by a force of nature.

In 2009, The Pack a.d. played a jaw-dropping 157 live shows. When they weren't unleashing rock 'n' roll fury, Maya and Becky were trapped in a van. They drove through raging wildfires, swerving to avoid throngs of fleeing animals. They drove through the Rocky Mountains and were left speechless -- as cheesy as it may sound -- by the breathtaking splendour of the trees and the towering rock formations.

When Becky and Maya came to the end of this epic road trip, two things were clear in their minds: 1) Computer-worshipping humans don't hold a candle to the awesomeness of wild beasts; and 2) It was time to stop singing the blues. The pair hightailed it to their HQ (a tiny, unheated band space smack in the middle of Vancouver's notoriously gritty downtown east side) and got to work. As with most things in The Pack a.d. universe, the process was organic: within two weeks, Maya and Becky emerged with we kill computers (Mint), a ragged, thundering wallop of an album that makes their earlier releases sound tame by comparison.

We kill computers is as raw and urgent as a The Pack a.d. performance.