The band called Bugeye were formed a few years ago, but the plan was hatched years before in the hard-faced squalor of the London Borough of Newham's school system. Academic achievement was low and expectations were lower. That wasn't enough for Angela Martin, Paula Snow and Hazel Adams. The Elizabeth Duke jewellery, Naf-Naf sweatshirts and teenage pregnancies of their peers held no appeal for them, they were smarter, cooler, more driven and just plain more rock than that shit.

So the dream festered and consumed them, until they all got to college, where they got their guitars and they got their voices. It was all falling into place. So promising were their first few rehearsals that they managed to secure the talents of drummer Jack Houston - a college hotshot who had his pick of the campus bands - Jack picked Bugeye.

A textbook punk beginning with the clichéd shitty little gigs soon blossomed to massive gigs. When there was a manager, the manager helped out, when there wasn't they sorted out gigs themselves. Reputation grew but Bugeye didn't rest at "successful local band". They were always more driven and hard working than their makeweight peers and it paid off. They have played at Wembley Arena, supporting The Cranberries, they supported Mogwai, and they got airplay on XFM and Radio One. They have worked with producers Paul Tipler (Elastica, Placebo and Idlewild) and the legendary Arthur Baker. Bugeye dictated where the four members went to university, it has broken up their relationships and helped them kick addictions, it has caused overdrafts and sleepless nights of gigging followed by Pro-Plus popping days at work.

Bugeye's latest EP release Rough Cuts And Bruises condenses all that passionate dedication and filters it through the visceral live verve that devotes have come to expect of the band. The street-smart buzz-punk of 'Not For You' gives an inkling of what The Strokes might have sounded like if instead of rich boys from New York they had been poor girls from Newham. Angela Martin's vocals are instantly recognisable, yet - as in 'Blood On My Hands' - can effortlessly switch from a Kristin Hersh lullaby to a Debbie Harry whiskey-throated purr. A harder edge is displayed on Rough Cuts And Bruises than on previous outings, the initial glammed-up platform shoe stomp of 'Selling Yourself Short' kicks off a feedback-drenched Raw Power crescendo before it swaggers back out again.

Rough Cuts And Bruises is the sound of a non-conformist band, finally getting their own way. It may've been the hard way, it may've been the long way, but it's the Bugeye way and it runs very deep.