West-coast fever dream denizens Hooveriii have been cracking the cosmic egg for years now, slowly amassing a catalog of releases scrawled with garage, glam, psych-pop and prog. Initially started as the solo guise of Bert Hoover (Jesus Sons, Mind Meld, GROOP), the band has evolved into an enigmatic magnet for L.A. heads and likeminded wanderers as their ranks have swelled and releases grew from bedroom burners to widescreen wonders.  Carving their way out of a long tour following the release of their last album, Pointe, the band was instantly ready to return to the task of new material. Self-imposing a tight timeframe, the band wrote the bulk of the new record in in a month and entered John Dwyer’s short-lived, but much loved, psych-punk pressure cooker Discount Mirrors with Eric Bauer at the controls. Making full use of Bauer’s prowess with big, bilious guitars, the resulting Manhunter is one of the band’s most massive records yet.

With Bauer behind the boards, the goal was to grow the album’s sound to massive proportions; a record ripped on guitars and fed on amplifier fumes. Not that the band’s light on riffs in their catalog, but here, each song growls with an instinctual catharsis. The tighter turnaround added to a more prominent sense of urgency and an ozone-fried tension in the air. That tension turns the album darker.  Fueled by a time of personal upheaval for Hoover, the record’s themes ruminate on discomfort and unease. The darkness smelts with a surreal paranoia that seeps in from van rides and hotel hole-ups spent ingesting dark alleys and double crosses in the films of Michael Mann and William Freidkin. The album’s title nods to Mann’s Manhunter, a film that informed the record’s live wire air and creeping dread. Like their cinematic counterparts, more than a few tracks skid around corners with a look over their shoulder — wild-eyed, popped vein rockers sipping adrenaline by the ounce.

True to Hooveriii’s history, the assembled crew have already evolved, but left here in the blast shadow of the session the listener can hear them at their most hackled. Hoover and Matthew Zuk’s guitars have been mutated to monstrous heights by Bauer. Paco Casanova’s synths slither through darkened corners, coiled with menace, and Modaff and Mirblouk anchor the record with the constant crush of rhythm. The band even brings in Sheer Mag’s Kyle Seely to kick the heat and sear a solo on “Heaven At The Gates.” At its core Manhunter devours the speakers, breathless and bitten, but as it skids to a close on the penultimate track, “Godawful Planet,” the band takes a moment of reflection after the caffeinated careen of the last thirteen tracks. The record was written long before the societal walls were as close to crushing as they are now, but even then, the writing on them was apparent. “It’s some God awful planet, “sings Hoover, “I can’t stay.” Truer words, as they say. But, for now, Manhunter’s here to give you a stick to bite on during the dire times. We’re gonna need it.