From the deepest, dankest basement party, where the cologne of old sweat and spilled beer drifts like mustard gas, to the 7th St. Entry stage, where their fans pay a cover and buy their beer from the bar in a show of good citizenship, the indomitable rock outfit Knife World knows no master. Bound only by the limits of imagination and the technological capabilities of six strings, an amp, and a handful of drums, Knife World's compositions are the soundtrack to a Klee canvas, where everything is savage elegance and delirious Technicolor. Wildly adventurous but disciplined, an abandonment of form that never loses composure, Knife World is at once a reduction of and an elaboration on everything classic in the American rock catalog.