Get down with Vegas sounds

We've got God, guitars and gobstopping beats on tap for you in the latest roundup of primo Vegas releases:

SKORCHAMENZA, "8 Bit Nation" (myspace.com/skorchamenza): The best frontmen don't know how to blush.

"I'm a fiyah-cracka!" Skorchamenza frontman Timothy Styles boasts on his band's latest disc, surrounded by two tons of bass and drums, such is their heft. "Where's my hit song? Where's my gold record? Where's my catchphrase?"

Dude, as if any validation was necessary when you already carry yourself like a dive bar baron.

Such is the case with "Nation." Soundwise, the album is reminiscent of Steve Albini's early '90s work with the Jesus Lizard: vocals in the middle of the mix instead of in your face, guitars as raw as a fresh bruise. It lends a brusque, unpolished feel to the proceedings, lighting a fire under the funky, slobbering guitar raunch of "Stone Cold," which could damn near pass for a lost Mountain tune, the brooding power pop of "Monster" and the harmony-heavy heartache of "So I Cry."

"If you dig it, say you dig it!" Styles commands at one point.

C'mon, guy, haven't we said enough already?

THE DOODLER, "Mystery Tuning" (myspace.com/doodlemeyer): The Doodler's post-digital glitch-hop floats by like a series of daydreams predicated upon nightmares. Amidst the deadpan rhymes, the Atari 500-esque bleeps and blurts and the chunky, fuzzed-out beats are newsreel-style narrations of political unrest and turmoil.

In this sense, The Doodler (aka Jeff Madlambayan) feels like a clear cousin of another of Madlambayan's projects, live favorite Pan De Sal, a trio with a knack for turning calls for revolution into something that you can shake a rump to.

Here, Madlambayan crafts short (for the most part), sharp shocks of proletariat electronica meant to conjure up some good old fashioned dance floor anarchy. Bust a move, comrades.

THE ATROCITY COMPLEX, "Demo 2009" (www.myspace.com/theatrocitycomplex): Faith and fractured appendages. "The Big Lebowski" and breakdowns. Jesus the religious figure and Jesus the bowler.

These are but a few of The Atrocity Complex's favorite things. They're a pious, Lucifer-loathin' sextet -- who also have a thing for one of the Coen Brothers' finest flicks, judging by some old song titles -- that's yet another formidable entry into the forever fertile Las Vegas hard-core scene.

The band's latest demo is an exercise in righteous fury, with a triple-pronged guitar attack that conjures up some positively elephantine riffing and a frontman who loves Christ but sounds like Satan on the mic with his guttural outbursts. "We must wake up and make a difference," their frontman barks, "break away from conformity."

You don't have to be a holy roller to roll with a sentiment like that.

Contact reporter Jason Bracelin at jbracelin@reviewjournal.com or 702-383-0476.