The NYChillharmonic: Mean

Having toured across five continents, you have to figure that no matter what musical element dares to share physical space within Brooklyn keyboard/vocalist Sara McDonald's brain-bending flight path, it is going to be grabbed by the scruff of the neck and turned it into something forceful. Something fierce. Something startlingly her own.

Leader of the eighteen piece, (sometimes twenty, sometimes more or less), orchestral-punk-prog-jazz-rock the NYChillharmonic, McDonald unveils the utterly invigorating "Mean," a churning, sawing, simmering shard of blast energy that comes at you full force knowing precisely that collateral damage will run high. Very high. It's exciting as holy hell. The physicality alone on the part of everyone here powers the engine. Guitar and string quartet mad rush and see-saw behind McDonald's banshee-without-Valium chiding. The rhythm section gives off jazz stutters and goes hard rock. A five minute altercation with sound and fury you have to tackle or regret not tackling the rest of your life. It's your choice, but either way McDonald and her amped up army are going to run all over you.