Eighteen Hours of Static

Stripped down, cranked up, and dripping with attitude, Big Ups bust out of Brooklyn’s underground scene with a debut album that’s both crazed and confident. After releasing a series of singles and EPs, this hard-working quartet have honed their ability to shift from gut-grinding rumbles to feverish assaults with hair-trigger timing. Joe Galarraga has fully come into his own as a punk frontman of frightening eloquence, taking cues from the likes of Henry Rollins and Milo Aukerman while putting his own stamp on hardcore conventions. Over the course of its 28 minutes, the album tears into a long list of topics, including techno obsession (“T.M.I.”), wasteful consumerism (“Disposer”), and blind religious faith (“Atheist Self-Help”). Galarraga rises to ferocious heights when probing his own alienation, as in the scathing “Goes Black.” His words are backed by riffs and rhythms that jab, slam, and burn while delivering ear-snagging hooks. The band plumb the cellars of depression (“Wool”) and soar to peaks of manic rage (“Fresh Meat”) with equal abandon. Big Ups prove that excess and excellence can go hand in hand as they batter listeners into joyful submission.