Unsane

For all its aggressively inaccessible tendencies (grotesque album art, feedback-throttled shows), Unsane remains just a buzz clip away from the airwaves. The New York-based trio’s ominous tones, scratchy solos and distorted screams add sonic danger to its Southern-style, groove-heavy metal, and its staggered but steady riff progressions and striking countermelodies keep the music tethered to a tuneful core. Blood Run, Unsane’s first studio album in six years, opens with the sort of beeps that usually announce something heavy backing up, but the band is not moving in reverse. The revitalized group runs a gloomy gauntlet, ranging from slow-building cement-shoe stomps to propulsive, percussion-driven rockers. Singer Chris Spencer seldom enunciates, adding weight to his few discernible proclamations; his command to stop talking could silence a biker bar. The noise-band movement Unsane pioneered in the late ’80s now boasts a voluminous roster, but the trailblazing group still scorches the path with more intensity than its acolytes.