Huh? Last I head Coulier were rocking the screamy emo tip and doing a nice enough job of it. Between the 7″ and this oh-so-amusingly-titled CD it seems the structure of their noise has altered pretty drastically, ditching the screechy angst and leaving only the vaguest traces behind. The lust for rock and the barely-controlled clatter are still there but their chops have been honed on the whetstone of jazz, leaving these kids eager to show their adoring public exactly what’s up their sleeve – namely some incomprehensible riffs, nerve-jangling chromatic workouts and enough nonchalant pinch harmonics to send the dogs of your neighbourhood howling long into the night. This is all delivered in the kind of gritty, rocking manner one would never expect from your typically polite jazzniks, suggesting their Chet Atkins calendars may well be jostling for wallspace alongside tatty old Morbid Angel posters and photographs of Angus Young clipped from the pages of Metal Hammer. It’s math rock for folks who enjoy banging their heads more than the algebra and would rather rock American Heritage than ponder the latest Tortoise album. While this might make them philistines in certain circles, they’re probably enjoying themselves too much to give a damn.