It's difficult to know when — or if — the Australian one-man dance act known as Muscles is being serious. Live, ensconced behind a small tower of keyboards and contraptions, he might yell to a mixed-bag hipster crowd: "This is my trance song! Do you all like trance?!" Before anyone has time to respond, he'll launch into a lo-fi version of trippy synth runs, churned by a propulsive, primitive drumbeat and punkified with his husky-accented yell-singing. And people will simply go bananas, sweating all over the floor with awkwardly animal dance lust and without the... More >>>