The two founding members of Old Monk were separated by thousands of miles when they began writing their first EP. It took years of swapping answering machine recordings and exchanging lo-fi demos over the internet to complete. The successful collaboration finally convinced drummer Ian Burns to leave his native Colorado, joining guitarist Joshua Carrafa in Brooklyn. Deciding they must showcase their new music around Brooklyn and Manhattan, the two enlisted bassist Tsugumi Takashi and dubbed their project Old Monk.

The foundation of any band is musical kinship. Within the exposed confines of a trio, this rapport is amplified, leaving an indelible mark on the songs. Glance through rock history and we see this repeatedly; the groundbreaking strut of Cream, the irresistible pop of The Police, the undone roar of Nirvana. Remove any member and the band’s core unravels. For Chicago-based trio, The Sweeps, this affinity is vital. Their core is firmly intact.

Each member of The Sweeps–Bob Dain, Santiago Torres, and Chris Dye (ex-Chin Up Chin Up)–brings a hefty presence to their lean arrangements. Challenging the sonic boundaries of a trio, both Dain and Torres sing with longing, conviction and fury. Dain’s dexterity, equal parts pedal-board and guitar, ranges from a delicate strum to an incandescent wail. Countering Dain, Torres brings a solid bass thump; playing slinky, soul-inflected rumblings along with fractured melodic fuzz. Dye’s hook-heavy drumming supports Dain and Torres, while lending a swaggering rhythmic architecture to the songs. Live, the band explodes with an infectious adrenaline that has ignited their strong Chicago fanbase, propelling them toward building a national audience.

On the band’s full-length debut, Swift Armour (out now), The Sweeps capture a live immediacy, yet further explore and refine their craft. Recorded at Chicago’s Minbal Studio with the help of producer/engineer, Benjamin Balcom, Swift Armour is an emotionally rich and honest evolution for the band. It is a collage of loud guitars and chanting vocal hooks, an intimately pounding cadence, a call to arms. It is a record with a strong sense of place, Chicago to be precise—the historic struggles, the dying and thriving neighborhoods—all inhabit these 13 tracks. From the lush death march of the opening title track to the dark pop hymn “1600cc Engine,” this record is equal parts confession, exultation and vindication: embittered but embracing. Swift Armour is an ode to Chicago: a battle between the harsh and the beautiful.