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Order and chaos engage in a thrilling tug-of-war on the latest mind-scrambling work from the reunited quartet. Arguably the best band to emerge from Boston during the ’70s punk revolution, MoB was never simply a genre act. Then (as now) it reveled in tumult—stretching, bending, and battering sturdy pop songs to create swirling, oddly catchy storms of noise. Remarkably, The Obliterati is even fiercer than ONoffON, Burma’s dazzling 2004 comeback. While the sputtering guitars, verbal outbursts, and martial beats could be mistaken for textbook rock and roll aggression, they actually signify furious introspection: “Man in Decline” and “Good, Not Great” express a desperate desire for human contact, just as the question “Is this where I’m supposed to cry?” reflects a craving for authentic sensation, not hip cynicism. Between the aptly titled “Careening With Conviction” and the absurd “Nancy Reagan’s Head,” prepare to be all shook up, in a good way.

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We've never been very good at being conservative.

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This is no time to come up short. It's time to fight like hell, as our namesake would tell us to do, for a democracy where minority rule cannot impose an extreme agenda, where facts matter, and where accountability has a chance at the polls and in the press. If you value our reporting and you can right now, please help us dig out of the $100,000 hole we're starting our new budgeting cycle in with an always-needed and always-appreciated donation today.

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