Brooklyn's return with a follow-up to the space-referencing on their second post-hardcore/noise-rock transmission from the outer reaches. This time the Brooklyn trio, which features members of and , charts the imagined colonization of Mars with distinct psychedelic overtones. From the moment "Dead Mall" debuts the kazoo-like motif that returns throughout, it's clear the record will be quite the trip. A murky joy permeates the album, as illustrated on "Hellcoder." While the lyrics bubble with mistrust -- "Evil still seems real to me" -- the melodic harmonies bring to mind 's preternatural gift for a hook (even if it evokes that band's darker inclinations circa 1994's ). The red planet's rusty hue is a perfect foil for the oxidized riffs that coat every track, and while the big fat metal guitar work on "Skylab" evokes an apocalyptic tone, bubblegum melodies regularly assert themselves despite every attempt to quash their power. They play fast and loose, and ostensibly have about as much concern for clean-cut production values as or . That said, there's little doubt that the thick crust that protects the record's melodic heart is anything but a result of sonic apathy. On the contrary, the layers of distortion conjure a sense of violent astrological storms and blazing solar flares, albeit in seemingly haphazard ways. The title track answers this barrier of dissonance most boldly. It feels like no amount of overdrive could quell the thrusting rhythm and air-punching, processed vocal that chimes, "We'll make ourselves at home again and claim every inch as our own," thus repurposing the frontier for outer-stratosphere conquests. If it sounds like a hauntingly familiar "when will we learn?"-type scenario, you'd be right, by the time "Ex-Frontiers" concludes , humans have turned the adventure sour. Nevertheless, have managed to turn misadventure into a great big fuzz ball of fiery, vivid, future-facing rock; a vicariously out-of-this-world experience. ~ Bekki Bemrose