There's a record label based in Seattle called Iron Lung Records. Formed by the two-piece powerviolence band of the same name, Iron Lung Records has a simple credo: "We know what we like and we know what we don't like." After perusing the list of artists associated with the label, it becomes clear that at least one of the things they seem to like is volume. Like, a lot of volume.

Which brings me to Dreamdecay, one of the Iron Lung Records artists. I'll freely admit that, when it comes to the noisier area of rock, I tend to bristle more than some people. Look, people like what they like, and I've just had to come to terms with the fact that my ears will probably never get used to the sort of bombardment to be found on labels like Iron Lung.

But something about Dreamdecay immediately hooked me. Oh, they're loud as sh--. Don't get me wrong. And yet, maybe it was woozy reverb on the vaguely psychedelic "CEILINVG FAN," or the strangely catchy, skipping drums on "EMPTYNV," but I suddenly found myself transfixed by the sordid racket produced by Dreamdecay. Their album, titled N V N V N V (are we seeing a pattern with "N" and "V"?), is chock full of punishing noise-rock, accentuated by the wailing vocals of drummer Justin Gallego.

"We've all been good friends for so long, and it just eventually evolved into playing music together," says Gallego. "(Dreamdecay is) a loose idea, shared between friends. There wasn't a discussion, that I remember, of us being like, ‘Oh, yeah, we're gonna do this.' It just kind of evolved. ... The project kind of started in bedroom, recording."

Listening to Dreamdecay, the last thing you think of is a group of buddies getting together to jam. Their songs are chaotic walls of sound, vibrating with fury and paranoia, howling out of speakers with Gallego and his wounded animal screams. You can never quite understand what Gallego's saying, if there are any words at all, but that's not really the point. There's something monumentally primal and, frankly, unsettling about the vocal freakouts that mark Dreamdecay.

Part of this must come out of Gallego doubling as drummer and lead vocalist. The beating he gives to those drums probably makes it hard for him to sing like a bird. That energy coming from his crashing cymbals and beat-to-dust skins just naturally resonates out into his arms, into his chest and his lungs, where upon they are converted into the fire which he must then expel from his throat with frightening velocity.

"I used to play guitar, primarily, in another project," says Gallego. "Now I play drums. So, doing the vocals with the drums was just one of those things where I said, ‘Well, I guess I have to do this.' ... I try not to (describe Dreamdecay). Everyone involved is really into a lot of different things. We tend to be a lot more into the noisier stuff, but we're not trying to be a noise-rock band. There's too many influences coming in to be one thing."

If you ignore the fire-breathing, Dreamdecay reveal themselves as sly travelers of various genres. Aspects of classic punk and New Wave pop up with some regularity, while psychedelia haunts the majority of the record through the intense reverb of the vocals and the occasionally dreamy wonkiness of the guitars.

Sunday, Dreamdecay will perform in the concrete coffin that is the backroom of Le Voyeur. I'd advise some earplugs to prevent your ears from caving in from the reverberations in that room, but I kinda feel like you should stumble away from a Dreamdecay show just a little bit injured.

Le Voyeur, w/ Naomi Punk, Useless Children, Negative Press, Aug. 11, 10 p.m., $5, 404 E. 4th Ave., Olympia, 360.943.5710