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With a heavy focus on hospital imagery and morose lyrics—“I’d happily take all those bullets inside you / And put them inside of myself” -- this promising Brooklyn trio exist in an openhearted world that’s far removed from their borough’s often too-cool posturing. Hospice is packed with lofty choruses and extended instrumental passages (the alternately elegiac and tedious “Atrophy”). But with emotional drama in abundance (mostly from vocalist Peter Silberman’s fiery, tormented shouts), sonic indulgences like the astral guitar blasts on “Thirteen” offer genuine catharsis.

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