When trapped in a city filled to capacity with jaded academics, what is a party girl to do? Get fucked up and reinvent herself, of course. Now that the label "electro" has been stripped of all meaning and relevance, the truly fascinating world of nth-generation carbon copies has started to assert itself. Though Chicago chanteuse/stripper Misty Martinez is by no means your average social pariah, her second EP recalls the musical innovations of teenage shut-ins the world over. Her motto may be, "I am constantly high on cocaine," but quaaludes seem more likely; whether she's faking an orgasm or whispering, "strangers trading fluids, then eloping in bruises" over minimal beats equal parts Kraftwerk and 80s sexpop, Misty sounds completely bored and wasted. The perfect prescription for a Saturday night. -Russ Waterhouse