There’s a new best band in San Francisco. And this band plays a beautiful cacophony of raw, frenetic guitars, fiercely pounded drums, and jerky yet oddly melodic vocals. Perfect timing and guitar damage reminiscent of the PROLETARIAT underscores a vocal delievery not dissimilar to THE OBSERVERS but less operatic and more desperate. It's jerky, derailed, and draws heavily from early post-punk, but chugs along at a classic punk tempo, blasting out totally agitated lyrics the whole time. This record is a tight, fuzzy underground treasure in the waiting. SYNTHETIC ID is reacting to their urban locale with more spite, damage and unnerving vitality.