Panicsville crawls through a potent, tangled offering of ear-shredding noise and sonic mishmash in the full-length release Perverse. Assembling disparate fragments and raw, broken pieces of acoustic garbage, Panicsville feverishly scours and massages these sounds, uncovering a surprising amount of luster with which to capture our fascination and horror.

Razor-sharp static, earthy and gutteral groans, lo-fi casio keyboard music, off-kilter sampled beats in monotonous sequences, crackling distortion and pitch-shifted spoken word . . . but a few of the remnants that make up the texture of Perverse.

Ambient recordings of plastic wrappers and pools of water, electronic murmurs and metallic percussion sounds round out the work. Each piece on Perverse is unique, and the whole of the album is diverse and provoking, never staying on a single sound source or noise collection for long.

Best played at low volumes in elevators, shopping malls, small town beauty parlors and family dentistry waiting rooms; here unsuspecting victims could be subconsciously programmed into disturbed modes of attention deficit disorder. Beware when they finally snap.

Panicsville's receipe is hopelessly convoluted and chaotic . . . and yet I find myself reaching for the play button, again and again.