On their earlier releases, this San Diego quartet mixed hardcore elements alongside signifiers of jazz and beat poetry within a radical mindset of revolution that was more Black Panthers than Black Flag. Most listeners couldn't get their heads around a lilywhite Last Poets, so the Plot dived headfirst into full-on brittle art damage that manifested extremity via singer Brandon Welchez '(in)appropriate sax bleats and the caustic guitars of Chuck Rowell. At times, the disc sounds like the mastering engineer spilled a drink on the console (is that a sample of the national anthem or is the band playing it on "Reichstag Rock?") but the Plot's brazen attitude still rings clear. Sure, they did stick out of the Revelation Records roster like a piece of tungsten in a slice of birthday cake, confusing indie-rock hipsters and HxCx lifers alike — but isn't that a basic tenet of hardcore in the first place?