Bare your teeth and write songs like thunderstorms. Noisy Vancouver quartet White Lung fashion serrated hardcore out of rain-soaked squall. Sophomore album Sorry lasts an appetizing 19 minutes; anything more might melt the plastic. Mish Way, who clocks hours as a reputable writer herself, thrives on the ropes, yelling out the demons in "Bag," "Bunny," and "I Rot," while filthy guitars threaten to flay her in two. Scene-anointed punk might be a pretty-boy club but Sorry quakes the ground underneath our tentative feet: dangerous, visceral, undeniably moving. Closer "Dead Beat" lasts only 58 seconds, but it shatters skulls in such a fabulous way. There are cleaner, prettier albums, with more candor and a greater point of view, but White Lung makes few apologies. (1:20am, Holy Mountain; Fri., 10:20pm, Long Center for the Performing Arts)
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