It’s weird to describe noise rock as cozy, but there’s something to the guitar-bass-and-drums bombast of local trio, Telecine, that’s strangely soothing. Maybe it’s the fuzzy sweater hug of static at the core of each song. Maybe it’s Andrew Larson’s gentle tenor, which is often buried under reverb and dense instrumentation so that you lean into it — only to be smacked in the face by an especially bracing wave of sound. (The moody “Wear You” is a great example of that dynamic.) There’s the rainy-day melancholy of the vocals that rise through the heavy churn and din — lead track, “Color the Nevers” begins as a sleepy rockabye of careful guitar chords before crashing into industrial clank and churn. And how, even at the band’s most aggressive moments, it still has an ear for melody (albeit a tattered-around-the-edges tunefulness). “Sewn Broke” is a plush nocturne at the outset, and then a seething rant, but the burn is controlled with all the skillfull glee of a group of firemen in training. The more rhythmic “Split” rides in on bristling percussion and a nails-against-slate squeal. Here, the machine shop melding of disparate parts results in a Frankenstein’s monster with truly lovely bones. Final track, “Drag the Devil,” is a standout. Gorgeously wrought, it explores those slow moments and weaves Larson’s soft vocal against monster guitars. There’s more than a hint of Sparklehorse, although Telecine delves deeper into the darkness. Which, somehow, makes the moments of dulcet beauty that much richer. Ultimately, the self-titled record is nine tracks of edgy, twitchy, fuzzed-out comfort.
Telecine holds an album release party at The Odditorium on Friday, Nov. 8. Pan also performs. 9 p.m. $5/$7.