The self-titled 7-inch from local punks Triangle Fire hits hard out of the gate; opener “Red Collar Laborer” is a rapid-fire burst of galloping guitars and unintelligible yelps courtesy of vocalist Tandi Murphy-Hall, whose guttural vocal presence puts many of her male peers to shame. (The record comes with a lyric sheet, but suffice it to say you’re better off leaving it alone and just enjoying the ride.)
The band is tight throughout, whether sludging its way through a mean-sounding mid-tempo jaunt (“Hypatia”) or barn-burning through two-minute blast-fests (everything else). But musical connectivity does not equal creative depth, and too often Triangle Fire suffers from an overwhelming sameness. Murphy-Hall is the band’s anchor, though—all magnetic, flailing energy—and in the rare occasions that she switches it up, like on the singsong-y outro to “Bombs, Teargas & Cocaine,” the record escapes its chains and manages to shine.
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