In the realm of dark metal, an apocalyptic vision will bring many a band to the ostensible brink of pointy-logo-sporting self parody. Indianapolis twosome Melk The G6-49 is an experimental rock tag team that leaves the posturing to others, preferring to get the fuck on with business and let the music speak for itself.. In their wake, they leave some of the most inspired, bowel clenching racket that you'll be privileged to hear.

A limited edition of 100 units, this self-titled release precedes the masterful Mene Mene Tekel Parsin, in which the duo progressed into vitriolic instrumental chaos via stripped down art school proficiency. Melk The G6-49 is the logical precursor, a slightly more accessible venture featuring bassist John Spencer's low-end nihilism and drummer Karl Hofstetter's expressive thunder on the skins. The debut isn't quite as leftfield as the noisier Mene Mene, but it packs a similar wallop of scathing, King Buzzo rock constructs that fall well outside of tradition -- and thankfully so. The skill level is high, but Melk's true ace in the hole is the non-verbal communication between Spencer and Hofstetter; they're the metal equivalents of Matthew Shipp and William Parker, whose dense, improv-enhanced conversations are propelled as much by their apparent ESP as their technical proficiency. The results are harsh and unforgiving soundscapes that ebb and flow from the ether with the organic agitation of a hydra's head; their of-the-minute creations have little use for hooks and choruses, but always get you to a destination -- even if that means changing your underwear when you arrive. If you can get past that obstacle, you'll also notice that, beneath the layers of difficulty, the duo fucking rock.