Nuthin Butt Blue Skies

Die! Die! Die!'s Promises, Promises

TUESDAY, FEBRUARY 26, 2008 AT 4 A.M.

BY DON ALLRED

Die! Die! Die!

Promises, Promises (SAF)

"So much for blue skies! What about the future!" Thus New Zealand's young punk trio Die! Die! Die! yap past a preacher's "You must believe!" They aren't really asking---by this point it's clear: they know what they know, no need to argue or agree---so even Die! Die! Die!, with their shrieky little name and shrieky little songs (tattooing ear canals), sound like they find themselves feeling reset and after this latest outburst, pausing just long enough to explain, quite reasonably, "Well, sir, this winter, I cannot believe."

"Blue Skies" is the last stop on Die! Die! Die!'s second album, Promises, Promises. The Steve Albini–recorded, self-titled 2006 debut's flying shards of impulsive/compulsive encounters were caught by walls thrown up, tracks tightened until they imploded: 10 songs, in just over 20 minutes. But now, all through this Shayne (of Straitjacket Fits) Carter production, walls are pushed out as inner space-junk expands; shards reappear as pieces of personalized blue skies, once hoarded, now unloaded. Breathing room is found, yes, even in the outer world's claims, though Andrew Wilson's frequently shattered, scattered voice and guitar are seeds that the eloquent guts of Lachlan Anderson's bass will never digest very easily, while drummer Michael Prain's Keith Moon-schooled soloing-as-accompaniment dents today's glazed maze, where Wilson and "You!" grapple in reflective gear.

Die! Die! Die! play the Music Hall of Williamsburg March 29 and Highline Ballroom March 30.