Throughout the '90s, there was this touring calamity known as Crash Worship--a big drum circle with smeared blood, topless women and usually police, unless their shows happened in the woods, as they often did. Well, you might call Sunburned Hand of the Man the new Crash Worship. Their live spectacles include masked shamanic rituals, absurdist spoken passages, incessant grooves and mind-bending electronic cascades. To their credit, they smear in some actual rock sensibility as well. And like buzz-heavy, "free folk collective" groups Animal Collective and the No Neck Blues Band, these constantly jamming Massachusetts loft dwellers are of the same strange ilk, except even more spectacularly weird. What do you expect from a band originally called Shit-Spangled Banner?