Crawling

With Crawling, Americans in France take their seat at the table in what is proving to be an inspired hour for guttural North Carolina punk (Whatever Brains, Shit Horse, Grids). Their haughty bravado comes steeped in space pings, hard left turns and buzzing progressions that give Crawling an evocative, perpetual flux. No moment here is for certain tied down to the next, nor should it be. One of these bloodshot barnburners may well end with non sequitur battle cry that leaves you baffled and questioning where the whole thing started off.