This Santa Cruz quintet certainly looks all deathcore — unison crab-squats, illegible logo T-shirts, confrontational frontman — and, in earlier incarnations, they checked many of that oversaturated genre's sonic boxes. But a decade and many, many members later, AGAtG has become something altogether more oblique, restless and just plain intriguing. The kick drums remain Grad rocket–relentless; Remi Rodberg's fearsome vocal utterances are still mostly indecipherable retching; and the riffs chop and chug like possessed pile drivers. But then quasicomical, carnivalesque keyboards and mutant-jazz interludes waft an air of flippant psychedelia across the sheer heaviness. The Mr. Bungle of the selfie generation, Arsonists Get All the Girls are what all of their ilk could grow into, if only they had the talent and the balls.
Sun., Aug. 31, 6 p.m., 2014
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