Zlam Dunk

Zlam Dunk

Zlam Dunk will shake you to your bones. The Austin quintet rubs joy and anxiety together, then feeds off the friction. Sophomore vinyl Balcones spins a powder keg of nerve endings, with Brett Thorne's frenetic, spidery guitar angling for most danceable neurosis in the South. Even the instrumentals crackle. Charlie Day, meanwhile, believes his prophecies: "This city used to be so bright/We were surrounded by a million lights," he spits on "Monterrey." Does his syntax resonate? His energy certainly does – in a voice like a weathered howl distilled in bourbon and sprawled on the sidewalk. It erupts, kicks, and promptly vanishes, the other end of these 27 minutes leaving you light-headed and ready for more. For all its limited resources, Balcones quakes a remarkably epic album, a blast of fraught post-punk groove and rampaging hardcore ethos unafraid to bare it all. More like this, please. (LP release: Thursday, Oct. 25, at Beauty Ballroom.)