18, Flagstaff kid, frontwoman, voice- an irritated battle cry. On stage she’s all motion — oversized hoodie, hood up, one stubborn lock of messy hair always breaking free refusing to be shackled. Penning new lyrics on the back of a missing-person flyers she finds at truck-stops. Transforms other’s lost into her found. Battle-scarred Shure SM58 wrapped in peeling electrical tape. No pedals, low effects. Just her throat, her heart, and whatever truth hurts most.