Only Pitchfork readers care about the sound of new New York anymore, but don’t let that fact fool you: Brooklyn postpunk’s got some life left in it yet. Take Oxford Collapse, a wet-behind-the-ears bunch of Williamsburgers who specialize in creating the musical equivalent of the delightful buzz that accompanies the wide-eyed end to a long trek in from Rahway. Recorded in a week (and boy does it sound like it), full-length debut Some Wilderness finds the Collapse jolting borderline-pop songs such as “Land” and “The Tribal Rites of the New Saturday Nite” with spastic experimental bits that sound like the musical equivalent of nasty word problems. If that sounds like no fun on paper, just try imagining it A LOT LOUDER. Indeed, fans of the short-lived difficult-listening movement known as No Wave—which right now includes just about everyone in hipster school except the too-cool-for types—should take an immediate shine to Wilderness. “1991 Kids,” for example, sounds like a gleeful mash-up of angry traffic-jammers and choice excerpts from one of Glenn Branca’s symphonies for electric guitar. And despite its bitchy title, “Totally Gay, Totally Fat” could almost pass for radio-ready pop-punk. Of course, the boys of Oxford Collapse wouldn’t know a straightforward hook if one jumped off a blink-182 record and flashed its wiener at ’em, but consider that one for the plus column. As a result, singer-guitarist Michael Pace just can’t help mussing up the track’s pogo-worthy chord changes with alien, echo-laden yelps while drummer Dan Fetherston and bassist Yong Sing Da Silva thrash away sublimely behind him. That’s right: Like the great Hüsker Dü and ZZ Top before it, Oxford Collapse is a trio, a fact that makes the group’s joyously all-over-the-place noisemaking all the more impressive. Some Wilderness may not be another New Day Rising or Tres Hombres, but it doesn’t have to be: Scattershot, screechy, and tons of fun, it’s a hell of a lot better than that last Liars album. —Shannon Zimmerman