There's been plenty of heavy noise-punk action comin out of Allentown, Pennsylvania lately, Pissed Jeans probably being the most well known of the bands to come out of that burgs cool little underground community, but nobody from Allentown trumps the sheer heaviness of Air Conditioning. These cats dropped this block of headcrushing psychedelic noise rock back in 2006, but if yer a fan of ultra-heavy, ultra-dense distorted noise rock and haven't heard Dead Rails yet, you gotta pick this up now. Air Conditioning's second album (and first for their new label Load) is another essential one for those of us that like our rock brutal, elephantine, and distorted to the point where all of the instruments and vocals are blurred into a churning mass of blistering CRUNCH. The Weakness album that Air Conditioning released on Level Plane was an awesome fistful of blownout sludge that was just as great as likeminded albums from Vegas Martyrs, Heavy Winged, Goslings, and The New Flesh that I'm always spinning around here, and on Dead Rails, the AC guys crank the crunch and distortion and white noise even further into oblivion. These four lengthy tracks have massive skullcrushing riffs bulldozing through an ocean of extreme distortion and sublime amplifier grit, at times sounding like a noise rock version of Nadja, or Skullflower strapped down onto pummeling industrial percussion, hooky melodies popping up out of the murk and distortion but always, always washed over with brutal blown out noise. The guitars rumble and grind in a fog of strange tunings, spewing warped acid-rock solos and crawling over pounding scrapyard percussion and thunderous drums, their vocals are an indecipherable howl drowned out by gooey FX and wailing feedback, and the surging currents of distortion roiling underneath it all at all times. Definitely rocking, but with more noise and crud slathered over everything than any other noise rock band I can think of, and MUCHO HEAVIER too. Towards the end, the band hunkers down and weaves some more laid-back, droning textures and hypnotic buzz on "I Run Low", but then the final sixteen-minute-plus epic "Accept Your Paralysis" unfurls the heaviest, most blown trudge of em all, drowning their guitars in feedback and squeal while the drummer snakes through a hypnotic beat, slowly blossoming into a super-rhythmic grinding jam that takes on a sludgy forward propulsion that sounds like Hijokaidan getting down with a particularly stomping Black Sabbath loop. The heaviest jams yet from this punishing trio.