Just a few nights after their debut full-length, Trash Hit, shows up on record store shelves, this local trio brings their pummeling post-punk to Glasslands, a venue that should be way too small for them. They’re cut from the same cloth as bands like Big Black and Shellac, and they obviously came of age at a time when Nirvana reigned supreme. The guitars are loud as fuck, as are the drums, while the monotone vocals just sort of plod along and then suddenly turn into a scream. After years spent under the tyranny of chillwave and beachy pop, NYC should ready for this. Again.