The key to this jarring little outfit is singer-guitarist Todd Rittman, formerly of severe weirdos U.S. Maple, who unspooled ’90s noise rock like it was a coat hanger in the hands of a three-year-old. Rittman’s signature guitar trickle and wheeze is still here, with screwed-up sax and screwed-down synths darting in and out, carefully crafted to sound like a total mess. The drums find bits of art-funk in all the riff rubble, while Rittman croons and blurts (“Make a language / Start a fire / Pound a drum”) like Scott Walker staggering through the desert, preaching the gospel of Beefheart.
