Germbox

Unfortunately for local music fans, the regional reissue market remains largely untapped. Major and indie labels have searched their vaults and issued live tracks, demo takes and unreleased oddities from established bands. But longtime area scenesters who recall the influential output of long-defunct acts have nowhere to turn for tangible reinforcement of their memories. Many groups from the Kansas City sound’s primordial era don’t even exist on disc, let alone in deluxe, definitive form.

Matt Bramlette, drummer for the long-deceased noise-rock quintet Germbox, recently did his part to remedy this situation. Fraction of Exaggeration exhumes nine tracks from the group’s 1991-’92 run, including two roughly recorded basement tapes that fit the “B-sides and rarities” requirement. Though more than a decade old, these tension-packed tunes never feel dated. If anything, some listeners still might find Germbox’s staggered and stretched vocals, erratically overlapping segments and whiplash-inducing stop-start spurts to be uncomfortably ahead of their time. The group’s guitar and two basses hover and lurch like hunting hawks, lingering ominously before plunging abruptly, sharpened talons exposed.

In his liner-notes essay, former Giant’s Chair vocalist Scott Hobart gives Germbox credit for redefining his definitions of rock, energy and “real cathartic expression.” The group not only set higher standards for future icons such as Hobart but also offered hints of the nationwide impact its sound could have had if it had reached a larger audience. (Novice nü-metal fans might accuse “Nap” of robbing “Blind,” but the Germbox track predated the similar-starting Korn hit by years.) Germbox still has plenty to teach open-minded musicians; finally, students will have the luxury of an easily accessible lesson plan.