How much noise can two people make? 68 is the sound of simultaneous implosion and ex- plosion, of destruction and creation unbound. These are songs that could almost fall apart at any moment, yet never do, devilishly dancing between life and death. Its a primitive impulse delivered with postmodern purpose; a blacksmiths resolve with an arsenal of electric distor- tion and raw nerve.

Josh Scogin kickstarted his small band with the big sound in 2013, naming the two-man outfit he modestly undersells as a little rock, a little blues, a little hardcore after his fathers old Camaro. And theres a muscle car-sized rumble beneath the hood of what the Atlanta, Georgia native and his percussive partner-in-crime, Nikko Yamada, unleash with an array of guitar, bass, drums, keys, and pedals, careening between swinging barnburners, wild hay- makers, and moody atmosphere.

Like a Delta Blues reimagining of Bleach-era Nirvana or the disgraced punkish cousin of The Black Keys, 68 adheres to a single ethic: unbridled authenticity. Theres not a plan with 68 so much as a ride, with the duo hanging on for dear life in the eye of the storm every bit as much as the audience. The obstacle is the goal. The journey is the destination. Inventive, disruptive, frantic; even when dipping into a bit of Otis Redding or James Brown style funk, 68 sound urgent.

The 68 roadshow has taken them from Moscow to Tel Aviv, across Europe and Australia and all-over North America, often splitting up 20-hour drives between the two guys. The passion, the hunger, the good humor, it all connects with diverse crowds. Deliciously stripped down and vibrant, 68 excels in intimate environments, to be sure, but is no less unignorable on giant festival stages or on the road with Bring Me The Horizon, Stone Sour, Beartooth, Avatar, August Burns Red, The Amity Affliction, and Underoath, where theyve earned new converts every day.

In Humor and Sadness, the first album by 68, debuted at No. 1 on the Billboard New Artist Chart. Two Parts Viper followed in 2017. [68] bring the noise in the most righteous ways, caring less about the scene they came up through, the bloodless drivel that passes as

indie and the boring earnestness currently permeating punk, declared Alternative Press. Two Parts Viper is the best record of the year. Throw a copy in my casket, because Ill never be done listening to it.

Grammy-winning producer Nick Raskulinecz (Foo Fighters, Rush, Alice In Chains) became a believer after just a few songs of a 68 set. On GIVE ONE TAKE ONE, crafted with Ra- skulinecz in Nashville, the bands high intensity bombast threatens but never swallows the underlying groove.

With the same spirit of scrappy winging it and punchy minimalism that powered the Flat Duo Jets and The Jon Spencer Blues Explosion, 68 push forward the pure rock traditions of audacity and disruption. Scogin gives everything to the microphone, as if singing to redeem his soul. He wields his guitar and keys like weapons, pulverizing away any false pretenses. Its about the riff and the kick. Its immediate. Its alive. And its fun. Sweaty catharsis, cutting missives, surrendered by 68 as if the world depends on them. Because in 68, less is more. Oh, so much more.