Nothing really says DIY like a good ol' house show, and nothing says underground like bands that have forged their own distinct sound. I'd known Floral's guitarist since his punk rock days back when our bands were equally pissed off and equally terrible in that beautiful way that only punk is. What a few semesters at Berklee had done to him was simply mindblowing. With only a compressor to cut out feedback and static, his high treble tapping brought the room to a mathy frenzy. Fingers flashed and blurred. Feet flew over massive and elaborate pedalboards. Surely, math has never before been this rock. Or rock been this math. You know, whichever.