Cerbs has often lamented how those “down under” are doing it better. But by decrying our english-speaking brethren as “down under” seems insulting, when we’re the ones sinking and they are the ones rising. Case in the point, the brothers Cross (Daniel and Patrick) and their two-headed racket of post-psychedelic no-form noise rampage. The Tasmanian duo rip apart their former hometown of Hobart and though comedic logic points to making a childish analogy, these bros-from-the-same-womb are far more destructive (and not stupid enough to continuously chase a rabbit with no hope of capture). So they turn on the poor denizens of Hobart. They turn on the island municipality they once called home. They take the rising garage and psych of Australia and New Zealand and devour it in 30 minutes of ecstatic gluttony. No allusions to whirling dervishes, Looney Tunes, or criminal states, just organic brutality as perpetuated by a continental area that has not only caught up to us but is surpassing us daily with equal parts mind expansion and ritual musical torture.