This is one of those albums that I pull out when I feel the need for real NOISE rock, and I am absolutely not in the mood for any weak-ass shit. These Allentown brusiers debuted with this three-song disc on Level Plane that came out a few years ago, and it's a required dose for anyone looking for total immolation. The lineup is classic power trio - guitar, drums, bass, someone singing lyrics - but what these guys do with that lineup is more akin to a serious industrial accident: pounding percussive bomb blasts, shrieking overdriven feedback, quasi-riffs and melodies buried in an avalanche of skull splitting fuzz and skree, seriously fucking heavy but oddly tuneful, if your a similiar breed of mutant as I and are able to glean the hooks from Air Conditionings brutal noise pummel. Three songs: "Accusation, Denial, Denali" a mere minute of spastic inter-dimensional punk spew; the 23 minute epic "Baby With a Graphite Soft Spot/Smooth Branches" which drags you across a wasteland of pounding factory-machine grind, gooey guitar tones that sound like the most malevolent seconds of Loveless infected with an especially virulent case of rabies, multiple voices shouting snottily in a cough syrup soaked fug, and ultraheavy blown dirgecore. The last jam, "Welcome to Seaworld/Championship Rings", is another long one, 15 minutes in fact, and it sounds like a meth'd up Brainbombs set being blasted out of a cosmic megaphone. This is not for sissies, no sir. Weakness is super catchy, but it's catchiness and hooks are reserved for only those steel-gutted scum pilots that think that the idea of listening to monolithic distorto-grudge punk dirge pushed to Merzbow levels of brutal crunch is a solid way to spend a Saturday afternoon. And are down to PLAY IT LOUD. Position this motherfucker next to your Vegas Martyrs, Goslings, Burmese, New Flesh, Heavy Winged, and Brainbombs collection, and pull out for immediate catharsis whenever the urge to bury a hatchet in someone's headbone strikes ya.