Shattered Hymen (jesus-lord jesus) start this filthy four-way split with a blast of jackal-noise that shrieks into the room then explodes like florescent bubbles, a screaming male doubtlessly drowning somewhere in the sonic abyss — though it’s tough to tell exactly what’s happening when a sun-baked, sharpened screwdriver is being jammed into your temples. Wizards should know better. Up next: Hate Basement, much angrier than their sister band Love Attic (oh HAR-dee-FUCKIN’-HAR, I know), ride a wave of core meltdowns into the sky and back, their multi-speaker attack offering more of a multi-layered experience than I usually expect from a tape-ist — that is, before a bulbous throb takes over the set. Do I even need to spell out the rest for you? Hadals play a disturbing, enthralling game of drone-Ouija and summon all manner of dead spirits with their futuristic sound-whippets (perhaps taking the tape), while Fantasy Island, waiting in the wings all this time, banish the listener to a dungeon for noise torture along the lines of Gnarled Forest at a motor speedway. Zum.