An Albatross

Stumbling gracefully through a demented sonic carnival, An Albatross keep the more danceable energy and blistering pace of bands like the Locust alive by experimenting with riffs and demented cochlear oddities at light speed. The similarities are often too apparent, and they consequently lose a bit of their appeal, though still holding their own by conjuring feisty and kaleidoscopic hooks. Texturing creepy keyboard sounds over shredding guitar riffs and the occasional beat-oriented break, they traverse rock grooves, electronic nonsense, and post-hardcore grinding with the sophistication of schizophrenic mad scientist turned musician who forgot to take their daily dose of Ritalin and anti-psychotics. Most songs last no longer then two minutes, catering to the "ADD-diagnosed society” they’re attempting to mentally provoke. The length as well as spastic nature of the songs makes them a bit difficult to differentiate at first, but a few listens will instil all the catchy moments like a recurring hallucination. This is the kind of album that has the capacity to elicit a very strong physical reaction: it’ll make anyone dancing want to pulse, gyrate and shake their hips with all the elegance of a seizure.