Mouthus

This Brooklyn-based noise-rock duo has been causing quite a (justifiable) stir in both their hometown and abroad since they formed at some magical point within the past year or so. Loam follows hot on the heels of their stellar, primeval self-titled debut for buzz label Psych-O-Path, and takes their sound out of the bedroom and onto what sounds like an outdoor stage — such is the transcendental freeness this recording emulates in sonic waves. Brian Sullivan’s rugged, dissipated anti-guitar work shreds and frizzles with hotwired electricity overtop Nate Nelson’s primitive percussion or, as on the spacious meltdown of "Sheep Dust” or ray-gun rapid-fire of "Trough,” elegantly mind-numbing electronic drone-rhythms. The sounds these two cats create aren’t exactly for the faint-hearted, but people who seek out intense, primitive and transcendental sounds will go ape over Mouthus’ holy racket. For those who live for this kind of squall, I couldn’t think of a more fitting description than when Byron Coley and Thurston Moore referred to Mouthus as producing "a Rudolph Grey-jamming-with-Sightings vibe” in Arthur Magazine. In short, this is truly evocative stuff for those who appreciate having their eardrums pierced.