Somewhere within the megaphone assault and vocal hysterics lies the gut-wretching, post-whatever angst of
the Paper Chase. When the group wowed Lawrence's indie-rock crowd a few years ago at the Pink House, it proved that it was unafraid to risk rebuke from listeners with waves of feedback, metallic orchestration, and a saucy stage presence. Vocalist and songwriter John Congleton puts together raw, grating compositions calculated to worsen any headache sufferer's condition, but the group dramatically layers its sound so that individual instruments are discernible within the squall of sound and frustration. On record and live, the Paper Chase's basement cacophony is lavish and decadent.
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