The Society Of Rockets' debut album, "Sunset Homes," sounded more like a eulogy to the band members' past work in the much-lauded San Francisco-based band Shimmer Kids Underpop Association. But where the debut was hushed, its follow-up, "Where the Grass Grows Black," is surprisingly spine-rattling - minimalist elegies have been replaced with maximalist bursts of sun-dazed boogie music, and the gentle sweep of acoustic guitars has been superseded by the fuzz and kick of greasy '70s rock guitars and stomping drums. If the shift in sound is unexpected, its only because the Rockets have been underestimated; the band has proven that they are not prone to sitting in one place and watching the stars roll by. Bandleader Joshua Babcock says, "I've always felt the most interesting music came from people with no fixed orbit, that let themselves pass through everything, like radiation. We aren't interested in compartmentalization, specialization, isolation, automation - our music is intended to be wild, vibrational, organic, biological. It goes wherever there is room to grow." The sprawling, classic psych-rock expansiveness of the album reflects this ethos well, fusing Neil Young riffs and Stax-Volt-style horns on "Out in the Evening" one moment and threading a path through the Spacemen 3/Cramps territory of "DrX" the next. The stop-start Royal Trux-ish clatter of "End of the Line" stumbles into the free-floating Ennio Moriconne-style trumpets of the intro to "Old Glory". Throughout the album the songs maintain a weedy, blurry-eyed vision of a country littered with squandered glories, rusted cars, and bitter recriminations - a negative image of the usual pastoral psych picture. "I wanted to make an album that was both angry and psychedelic - something that would dilate some pupils but also maybe break some windows," says Babcock. Standard Jewel Case.