On its second physical release, Special Costello digs up the dirt and hollows out a craggy, fuzzed-out bunker somewhere in outer-space. The shifting, boisterous clusters of song rumble with filthy bass and lash out with clanging drum patterns. Singer Jeremy Costello’s majestic vocals get the Dr. Frank Poole treatment: floating around suffocated somewhere out in the airglow. Highlights include centerpieces “Sleppin” and “Scorpheus,” where the duo’s demented artlang boils down to show the deep tenderness and consideration at its core. Without clear coordinates or a map into or out of the bunker, Special Costello have busied themselves refining a curious kind of cabin fever.