Clamm are barreling down the riff highway, but the squalls of guitar are too much for the windscreen wipers—angular punk, always moving forward. Jumping from pockets of fuzz, with one-minute bouts of mania, is Brick Head—like someone yelling through a green and gold dish scourer. And Voice Imitator’s champing at the bit—bleak humour, noise rock and white-hot propulsive energy.