400 Blows is like the Moses of music. On one side of the sharply parted musical waters are the head-bobbing, fist-pumping fans who know every lyric, while punk and metal traditionalists remain steadfastly on the others side. There's not a lot of middle ground. Either the band's stark, strident, stripped down sound will appeal to your minimalist-leaning sensibilities or you'll rebuke its bass-less blend of anger-infused hardcore, punk and metal.

If 400 Blows is like Moses, listening to Angel's Trumpets and Devil's Trombones is like receiving guidance from the Burning Bush -- but this time around, it's not Yahweh's face that emerges from behind the wall of dancing flames, but the visage of a leather glove-wearing singer named Skot who can't contain his wry smiles and sheepish grins as he shouts sardonic lyrics over a storm of guitar and drums. 400 Blows has honed its straightforward message of brutality into a tangible, expressive, and most importantly, identifiable state. There's no mistaking the LA-based trio's impeccable drumming, cyclical riffing and nasal screeched vocals. Angel's... is enlightening, demonstrating the power and fury that can be created from the simplest of setups.

What started off as an expression of individuality has become 400 Blows' set of Commandments: keep it streamlined, sincere and savage. The band's "Thou shalt be bass player-less" approach leaves your ears with three distinctive focal points: drums, vocals and guitar. There's not enough that can be said about former mail-deliverer turned percussive purist Ferdinand. Without bass guitar in the mix, the rhythmic responsibility is placed solely on his lap, and he never misses a beat; he delivers an endless assortment of backbeats, never slipping into monotony. Guitarist Christian adds his own dynamic, playing stomp-heavy guitar riffs that thrive on repetitive intensity. You'll detect hints of Helmet and Shellac as the duo creates one hell of a racket.

Vocalist Skot proselytizes in a sneered, monosyllabic style. If the bludgeoning music didn't turn you away, he'll be the trump card -- his voice is far from melodic and his short lyrical bursts aren't particularly affable. However, after a few runs through the disc, you'll be hard-pressed to imagine listening to anything other than these cynical lyrics, which add a hint of color to the woven rhythmic fabric of feedback and noise.

Together, the trio's marked musical discipline transfers to such immediate classics as "The Average Guy" and "The Beauty of Internal Darkness". With Fudge Tunnel's Alex Newport behind the mixing board, 400 Blows kills, skins and guts you with alarming accuracy. The chiseled beats and menacing riffs work in harmony as Skot's vocals rake across your skin, exposing old wounds and leaving new scars. A galloping beat introduces "The Secret Life" as a surly guitar wedges itself in between the percussion and vocals. There's a dramatic amount of tension built up as the tune progresses, but 400 Blows never defuses it, carrying the angst over to the following cut, "The Sore Thumb". The anger is momentarily dissipated, but it never fully dissolves, routinely reappearing until the tape-loop-infused closer, "Electric Forest", elicits a final reprieve.

Sample "No One Can Erase This" for a taste of everything that makes 400 Blows great. Blistering guitar riffs bellow forth distorted mayhem as Ferdinand's drumming alternates between body-shaking hits and subdued shuffling. Skot's strangulated sneers and choppy shouts are punctuated by ghastly groans, sounding something akin to a schizoid speaking aloud with a wall of piledriving noise backing up every word.

Part of the band's charm is its cockiness. Check out the live show and you'll see three military uniform-clad gents who look like prep-school fuckups ready to bash heads in. It's rare that so little has done so much, and with the almighty Alex Newport on the band's side, any track on Angel's... will convert you.

You'd be ill-advised to prostrate yourself before 400 Blows: the band doesn't encourage idol worship. However, if you're feeling ashamed of yourself for excessive MP3 downloading, dropping a few bucks on the penance plate for this full length is money well spent.