Some songs grab your attention from the get-go. They may reach for your nether regions and never let go; others still may deftly seduce your intellect. However, first and foremost is the reaction in the listener. The dissection of this reaction comes afterward. Perhaps the dissection reveals processes more rational than visceral. No matter: the best songs make a connection with the listener at a primarily instinctive level.

An out-of-control-lurching-car of a song, “Sugarcoat” blasts away from 0:00.01, all thunderous drums and curdled vocals. The first two verses and choruses roll by and after two minutes you’ve already hit the middle eight. The substantive part of the song is over one minute later, followed by a two-minute coda consisting of little more than a chant of “Better off this way.”

That’s the schematic diagram of the song, but such an analysis does it a disservice. It wouldn’t exactly be the natural approach for Subaudible Hum, who come off as the bastard child of The Drones, Modest Mouse, and Gomez. Subaudible Hum’s forte is “plus the kitchen sink” blues, combining mainstream hooks with visceral grunt, all wrapped in a heaving dynamic. This style has gained a foothold in the mainstream as The White Stripes pave the way for blues-based experimentalism and Wilco embrace the noise. Perhaps listeners are becoming more primal in their tastes. Then again, maybe now we’re all a little more open-minded.

The barely-in-control chaos of “Sugarcoat” is cathartic and oddly compelling. It appeals to the ear as much as a train wreck holds the eye. You can almost smell the bile through the closely-miked vocals. Be thankful that, instead, you hear each gasp of air—a no less potent technique that heightens the contrast between soothing chorus and abrasive verse. Throughout, toms pan across the spectrum, bringing to mind a chef mid-tantrum.

“Sugarcoat” may have a repetitive chorus (if you could call “Sugarcoat / Better off this way / Better off this way” a chorus) and the melody may be minimal in its invention, but the sinister ringing of the guitars and the lumbering rhythms compensate. More importantly, I can’t shake the overall impression that this Melbourne quartet is a little bit different.

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