(Self-released, cassette, digital) From the blood-blistered and bruised fingers of JB Ledoux comes Settled in the Head, the Vermont experimental musician's latest offering of esoteric percussive soundscapes as Jo Bled. Released in April via Chicago-based cassette label Lurker Bias, Settled in the Head recasts notions of metal in music, swapping weighty, maxed-out riffs for a high-octane exploration of the resonant material in its quasi-organic form. At nearly 30 minutes in length, the recording finds its home in the hinterland between meditation and pandemonium. The four-song suite of improvised compositions emphasizes movement over melody. In keeping with Jo Bled's hefty discography of live performances, Settled in the Head coalesces into a full-scale sensory experience actualized by blunt force and raw feeling. Yes, it's loud. But when it comes to causing a ruckus, there's nothing brutish about Ledoux's fearless dexterity. The EP's opener, "Strange Wind Plays Free Spirit," is a propulsive slow burn, racked with tension yet grounded by a soft, steady hammering on a wooden temple block. Amid that material's tinny overtones, and as the energy intensifies and the reverberations intermix, it's not always easy to discern the source of every strike and rattle. The EP's liner notes affirm an ensemble of metallic instruments at play, which include balls and bells, gongs, and even bottle caps. As patterned swirls and variegated sweeps across the gong ring out and decay, the aptly titled track evokes the sounds of a surging mountain stream in a windstorm. The sonic nod to the elements and the ordered chaos of nature give "Strange Wind Plays Free Spirit" a romantic sheen not found on the EP's remaining compositions. The jangly pitter-patter of rustling bottle caps mimics raindrops falling on a tin roof. Those intermittent drops taper off just after the track's 10-minute mark — a sign that the storm has passed. While Settled in the Head isn't a metal record in the stylistic sense, acoustic traces of the genre's forebears garnish the EP like heavy-handed heaps of rock salt. In the raucous quickie "Key in the Back," a cacophony of cymbals crashing sizzles atop the track with an incessancy reminiscent of John Bonham's giant Paistes. While the number aspires to be the EP's barn burner, the emphatic percussive energy pushes up against aural fatigue. But if you can outlast the frenetic strikes and absonant tempo, "Key in the Back" features an intricate and captivating hand-drumming performance…