Picture this: a steamy spring night in Austin, with Yo La Tengo tearing the roof off the Music Hall. The piece shifts and grinds, claws and climbs its way upward into a kind of apocalyptic chaos as the drums and bass rumble under swirling keys and ungodly screeches from the guitar. It's music to either hate or be mesmerized by. Maybe both. But either way, this isn't neutral music. You're swept up in it, or you head for the exit...
