Out of the Woods
By Ryan Reed
Dave Longstreth has never written “songs” in the traditional sense: His music is fractured and messy, the sonic equivalent of pointillistic visual art. When you analyze the nuts and bolts up-close, Longstreth’s sonic experiments look like random, disconnected colors: heady, idiosyncratic layers of virtuosic electric guitar drizzle, flourishes of machine-gun percussion, spasms of disgruntled noise and the clockwork female harmonies of his trusted back-up vocalizers. But when you step back against the gallery wall, so to speak, and give his music the space it deserves (and even requires), the chaos starts to take...