The group's sound varies from bummed to bludgeoning, always with brute force. Tracks are short and sharp, but they aren't single-minded: opener "Glacial" moves from its dime-a-dozen grime intro to a vertical drop, thrusting and flailing as it plummets. "Affliction" has a similar kink in the middle, moving from electrical noises and jackhammer drums into a slow-motion second half that touches on dark ambient. In other words, WWWINGS can fit a lot into two and a half minutes.
Best of all is "Gravity," where the trio hook up with frequent collaborator Endgame, who lends the music a sleekness. "Gravity" shapeshifts every few bars, taking in floating hi-hats, dulcet chimes and twinkly synths borrowed from southern rap. The way they use silence to emphasize every impact recalls records like Jam City's Classical Curves and Logos's Cold Mission. WWWINGS aren't reinventing the wheel, but they set themselves apart in a world of crowded, clanging club music by doing it that much louder.