Scavenging proto-alt-rock’s past on its sophomore album, this L.A. foursome collects post-punk’s angular chords, synth-pop’s buzzing colors, No Wave’s brash indifference, and goth’s pessimistic glower. Then they gleefully assemble the parts after tossing the instructions out the window. Guitar and keyboard fight as often as collaborate, while Brady Keehn’s detached monotone unsettles the longer the LP spins. Sextile nails delicious tension to the wall like a child who doesn’t understand he’s killing the butterfly. (Fri. 27, Beerland, 12:30am)

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This article appears in April 27 • 2018.

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Michael Toland started writing about music in 1988 on the Gulf Coast, moved to Austin in early 1991, and has inflicted bylines upon the corporeal and digital pages of Pop Culture Press, The Big Takeover, Blurt, Amplifier, Austin.citysearch, the Austin American Statesman, Goldmine, Sleazegrinder, Rock & Roll Globe, High Bias, FHT Music Notes, and, since 2011, The Austin Chronicle.