Mom & Dad’s Cave Art kicks more than a little ass if you can find it beneath peals of distortion. A mad experiment in fuzz and reverb, the simple structures of the 12 tracks are gnawed and scratched into a bloody mess. It begins right away on the fuzzed out, all-instrumental opener “Cereal Haunts” before launching into frontman Zach Prosser’s abstract musings in “The Talk”. He then opts for directness in “Mass”, where Prosser’s strained, slit-throat vocals questioning the point of church are overpowered by a crashing waterfall of cymbals and vocal harmonization. By the time you get to “A.D.”, another wordless track, you realize that Mom & Dad simply like to take instruments and make loud sounds. And it sounds damn good. Shabby and unclean, but good.

Indecipherable as they may be underneath the grating and thrashing, Prosser never slacks on lyrics. Listeners are sucked into his epiphanies, which are born from stupid everyday moments and are sometimes accompanied by pretty, rough-hewn melodies that cut through the haze, like in “Weird Mirror” and “Fruits In The Fruit Market”. In “Fruits”, Prosser sings, “Sometimes I get in my moods/I don’t know what to do/Sometimes I get in my moods/I swear it ain’t got nothing to do with you.” Obvious, but true.

It’s futile to try and fully interpret someone else’s lyrics, but suffice it to say Prosser has an active mind. His lyrics often read like journal entries, and they’re paired with the sort of effects and distortion reminiscent of Butthole Surfers or early Flaming Lips. It even has a few less grandiose Arcade Fire moments, like in “Whybe”, whose twee, dancey groove slightly mimics the liquid feel of “Haiti” from Arcade Fire’s Funeral. The record claws tooth and nail until the end, capped with one last snarling jab, “Red State”. Fuzz masks Cave Art in its entirety, and not just a fine peach fuzz. It’s more like 100-year-old-mold-under-the-bathroom-sink fuzz, but it’s working in their favor.