The Brooklyn-based duo of Noah Kardos-Fein and Rick Daniel has cultivated a confrontational sound built around scabrous metallic guitars, steely industrial beats and noisy effects that resemble buzzsawing power drills. Their debut, Process, is a collection of musical ideas stitched together for maximum provocation — blaring-alarm belches paired with sizzling-water-drop drums (“Cuts Me In Half”); eardrum-perforating feedback lurking beneath tornado-roar guitar roars and hypnotic doubled vocals (“Tempered Glass”); or screeching digital noise overdubbed onto drifting electronic ambience and brisk, squealing guitar strums (“Pure Pleasure”). No one could accuse them of being subtle.
Despite all that innate aggression, however, the duo wrangles these abrasive textures into coherent bursts of organized chaos — no mean feat. Daniel’s drumming emphasizes forceful repetition of simple patterns, and the deft, raw arrangements give each individual musical element space to breathe. This allows Kardos-Fein’s vocals, which circle around dread, tension and frustration, to come into focus. Somehow, despite all this harshness, Process beckons rather than alienates. When Kardos-Fein asks, “Do you feel like you’re pulling apart?” on “Mirrored Walls,” the question isn’t rhetorical or demanding — it’s commiseration.