The Six Parts Seven

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Everyone loves a kick in the ass, the thrill of slashed guitars, the exhilaration of a fat bass beat. Even slow music can have a tension that triggers the adrenaline as readily as the speediest hardcore track. But the guys in the Six Parts Seven (appearing Saturday, September 11, at the hi-dive) wouldn't know a visceral rush if it came up and disemboweled them. Since 1995, this instrumental septet has peddled a brand of melodic, free-floating post-rock that has outlived most of its artier and edgier brethren. Hearing Everywhere and Right Here, it's easy to see why: After a hard day of battling all the world's bitterness, irony and aggro posturing, sometimes a boner and a clenched jaw is the last thing you need. The disc's third song is a voiceless, vibraphone-misted epic called "Saving Words for Making Sense," and that just about says it all. There are no broad dynamics on Everywhere, no abrupt shifts in mood or texture or density. But that's cool. Life's just like that sometimes, you know?