Suddenly, there's a part of me that's uneasy about how quickly the big and the little hands on the clocks go round and round. It's mostly because of Right On Dynamite that this is happening tonight. Sometimes, we all comment - with bewilderment and partially with scorn - that time sure has flown since something else in the past happened. Where did all of those years or months go since that one event happened? So and so has been married how long? How old is that kiddo of yours now? When was it that we ran into Steve Nash as a grocery store in Tempe at 2 a.m.? Wow, that long ago? Really? Are you absolutely sure? Yep, that all seems to make sense. You're right, damn it, you're right. The Brooklyn power trio has an explicit way of jabbing those unsettling thoughts of time getting completely out of control as it refuses to act sluggishly in the slightest, just taking off at a gallop and building it up to an intoxicatingly brisk pace that usually gets ignored because there are too many calls and precious e-mails to get to, too many deals and brokerings to let anything else get in the way. Lead singer Danny Murphy takes us very subtly and very persistently into the path of these gnawing thoughts of deconstructive life, of the abandonment of what's offered in boundless amounts until it's quickly recognized that nothing could be further from the truth. "I'll See You Yesterday," a brand new song taped for the first time for this particular session, Murphy sings, "I leave these mistakes, next to a pile of words that seem to have wasted away," and you can almost picture a body disappearing like Copperfield - straight up vanishing - and all that's left of the floor is a pair of shoes and rumpled clothing, maybe a dash of smoke or dust floating up from the combustion. And that's all that's left, the stray clothing, some unwanted mistakes that were never resolved or cracked and a spirit at-large. The person's just gone as quickly as the sound of the ticking, keeping that perfect time, never faltering because there's no future in that. Right On Dynamite allows the rolling on of the tumblers to happen as part of this sort of mostly energized, garage band sensation that gives it both a sleepier version of the great, scruffy New York band The Figgs and an homage to Chicago's lost great power pop group, Fig Dish (it just so works out that way when it comes to the names folks). It's just about the way everything proceeds - with those invaluable reflections, the spurts and drags, with the melodious phrases and smiles and those sinking realities all just fighting it out for the microphone.