On the opening track of Dreamdecay’s N V N V N V, the Seattle quartet lulls the listener into a steady, nauseous haze of guitar feedback and ’verbed-out moaning. Suddenly, halfway through, everything drops out but an eerily quiet drumbeat. NOTE: This is the point at which you and your fellow gang members should menacingly ready your baseball bats. At the four-minute mark, the drums suddenly stop and the song rips into a tidal-wave affront of riot-ready noise. The post-apocalyptic city Dreamdecay evokes doesn’t stop burning to the ground over the course of the seven-song LP, the perfect audio accompaniment to any window-smashing or brass-knuckle fistfight you may find yourself in. Performing live, Dreamdecay’s bearded drummer Justin Gallego sticks a mike straight up under his chin, which he has to crane into to sing. The effect makes him look like a raging lunatic hunchback, the perfect physical embodiment of the band’s disfigured aggression. Quasimodo-core for your corrupted soul.