[02.04] Conceptual continuity is tough to achieve on a split release. Two bands equals two different aesthetics, and no matter how kindred the two musical spigots may be, it's always difficult to make it congeal.

The new split album from Narnack Records called Rise, Rise, Rise—first half, Parts and Labor, second half, Tyondai Braxton—is more cohesive than many of these attempts. Parts and Labor kick off their seven songs with "Don't Just Fucking Stand There," while Braxton's opening salvo is "Stand There." The best moment on the whole disc is when "Stand There" coasts in on a long crossfade from Parts and Labor's closer, "The Endless Air Show," and the two songs spoon like old lovers. It's a sweet statement of solidarity.

In terms of excitement and energy, though, Parts and Labor kicks Tyondai Braxton's ass, whether they intended to or not. Their largely-instrumental texturefests are epic caterwauls of experimental arena rock. Dan Friel is the band's big toe, and his keyboards breathe fire. Sustained squalls of bagpipey wails ride atop the tight, fast rhythm section of BJ Warshaw and Joel Saladino, sending the songs into the land of giants. Friel invites Matt Welch—an honest-to-goodness real bagpiper—in on "Jurassic Technology," and it's hard to tell where the wind stops and the cables and circuits begin.

Saladino's creative, dynamic drum arrangements really give shape to the songs, most notably on "Probably Feeling Better Already." The song manages to touch on hip-hop, krautrock and new wave. It's a BIG and violent sound that Parts and Labor have, but the thick meat is tempered by the spice of the keyboards.

Tyondai Braxton's 25 minutes start off promisingly with the dungeon poundings and vocal harmonies of "Stand There," the most straightforward rocker of the set. And the closing piece, "Jackpot," is a dark, slowburn symphony that calls to mind a wide range of possible influences: Gastr del Sol, Gyorgy Ligeti, Bauhaus and Frank Zappa at his least linear. "Jackpot" is a challenging but rewarding listen—a swirling jello train that never pulls to a complete stop at the depot.

But the middle is taken up with "Disintegrating Reels," a well-sculpted but ultimately irritating chain of stacked loops and repetitive twangs. By the 12th minute of the song, the lack of development makes it a tough listen.

Overall, Rise, Rise, Rise is well worth seeking out for the 20 minutes of Parts & Labor—the songs are smart, muscular, and off-kilter while remaining accessible. And while Tyondai Braxton's contributions are more cerebral and less immediately satisfying, they also merit deeper listens. —Kevin Seal