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Tyvek, ‘Nothing Fits’ (In The Red)

For their second collection of no-fi crud-pop, the scab-picking Detroit fuck-it-alls in Tyvek have evolved their cassette-damaged “frustration rock” into a comparatively lusher rendition of hardcore punk. Playing like 12 unmastered seven-inches varying wildly in style and volume levels, Nothing Fits vacillates between feral Wire putter, psych-addled Wipers soar, and bleary No Age blur. What unites this 26-minute junkyard session is the demented gargle and whine of frontman/disaster Kevin Boyer, always straining through a mouth full of marbles and a waterfall of distortion.