Caddywhompus, "Fun Times at Whiskey Bay": If nothing else, this Houston/New Orleans noise-pop unit is a prime contender/offender for an international "worst name imaginable" contest. Singer/percussionist Sean Hart and singer/guitarist/keyboard player Chris Rehm are certainly more plugged-in than the vast majority of noise-related enterprises, updating their blog with a regularity that puts even pro bloggers to shame. Some readers may cry foul, here, smacking Friday Night Noise down for championing a genre-confused band in its infancy as a noise outfit. Indeed, Caddywhompus sweeps a fuck of a lot into its tent: catchy-as-swine-flu indie-rock, post-Battles dynamic tantrum-throws, Sonic Youth scree, a touch of hardcore, even the late, lamented KARP in spots - and on some weird level, they remind us of HEALTH, albeit less committed to a single avenue. Here's the thing: it's impossible, right now, to say where the Caddywhompus boys' muse will lead them, but it's equally impossible to claim that they'll never be the next Lightning Bolt or Hella. Hyperactive stunner "Fun Times," from the pair's eponymnous debut EP, is typically all over the goddamn place: a pummeling gush of melodic flourescence that morphs into frenzied guitar wrangling which parts for a luau-lounge/Beach Boys intermission before slingshooting into gargantuan drumrolls, blistering guitars, and a handful of disparate other rock-trope tricks. (Which they pull off with an effortless aplomb.) Whew, right? All that in less than four and a half minutes. What sells FNN on this pair as noise? It's the little things, see: the subdermal scraping accents at the edges of that calm middle passage, the quick, nasty blasts of fret-acrimony everywhere, the raw power of Hart's kitwork. Which, hey, Sean? If you aren't listening to Black Pus and Afternoon Penis already, check 'em out: they're great examples of out band drummers in solo mode, making one-guy formidable rackets on the side.