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Amid distorted vocals, gnarly guitars, and retro keyboards, this San Francisco trio sludge through their third album of irony-free garage punk with the subtlety of marauding cave people. Neither live nor performed at the Ginger Minge (a fictitious venue), Peanut Butter and Jelly can be exhilarating and visceral, as on ”I Made a Bomb” and ”Ya Know Ya Wanna.” But the band’s brand of anti-melody, two-chord thrash β€” which sounded so fresh on their previous releases β€” is starting to feel punishingly stale.