Wander in the desert too long and you start to see things. The Myrrors brings them to aural light. Arena Negra, the second LP from this mysterious Tucson quintet, doesn’t so much play back as ebb and flow. Guitar shimmers and drum crashes roll across the scorched landscape like storm clouds, while violins and saxophones swirl in on the breeze and Nik Rayne croons mournfully toward the sky. Heatstroke-induced hallucination? There’s no urgency to the title track or “The Forward Path,” the pair of droning epics that bookend the album, but there’s a steady momentum, the feel of those clouds enveloping the horizon regardless of the sun’s attempt to break through. (Sun., 6:30pm, Elevation Amphitheater)

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This article appears in May 8 • 2015.

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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.