“The Tallahassee band Ex-Breathers' punk songs hit your face like hocked loogies, but they are precision-hocked, as if the perpetrators were standing across a crowded room and managed to micro-target you. The not-quite-unison shouting is ragged, the tempos careen into brick walls, and the double kick-drumming blacks-out like a kid scribbling pencil blots on paper with his fist. These are scuff-mark”
