Hair Police

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• Hair Police

Obedience Cuts smacks the nerves like a putrescent animal bleating its death wail, like end-of-the-line Rust Belt steel decay -- rows of oil-stained warehouses steadily collapsing in on themselves. But what feels particularly disturbing -- and breathtaking -- is the palpable sense of detail and patience these noisemakers exert constructing these speaker-shredding, darkly psychedelic horrorscapes. Like pre-pube boys obsessively beating roadkill, Hair Police gnarls every single microscopic sound particle. What results is a quivering pile of guitar feedback, ominously crackling static, stuttering hardcore-derived percussion, and a litany of human gasps and shrieks, producing sharp, psychosomatic unease for this listener. "Full of Guts" works best. Primal drum-thumping and hysterical moans maneuver under a dark veil of blistering fuzz, which would not sound out of place in an Argento flick. BTW -- did you know that every hand you see stabbing some helpless woman in an Argento movie is the director's own? He doesn't trust anybody else to get it just right.