Chelsea Wolfe's middle name is Joy, as in enjoy the irony. The Sacramento-born hellion's label debut came in 2010 with the illustrative The Grime and the Glow; nine months later, she delivered the omen that got her noticed, Apokalypsis, a botched exorcism that nods in multiple directions as it nods off: reptilian metal-molting, dissonant '90s sound gardens, ectoplasmic trip-hop and black-nailed, blank-eyed goth rock. Her two full-length follow-ups bear the same mark of the beast: 2013's Pain Is Beauty, a focused yet thorough conflation of her two primary motivations; and the current Abyss (Sargant House), wherein she kills off half of her double life and takes the road more troubled. Enlisting the earth-fissuring help of producer John Congleton (Swans, Explosions in the Sky), Wolfe finds new fury on "Carrion Flowers," whose structure consists entirely of her nightmarish wails and nine disturbingly distorted knocks on death's door, repeated long after it's obvious no one is answering. This eardrum-buzzing current waxes and wanes, but it never disappears, resembling a tendon-snapping doom remix more than the photophobic folk to which she's accustomed. Halfway through the penultimate "Color of Blood," just when it seems to have gone silent, it surges back like angina. That track follows "Survive," which follows "Simple Death." Inside this hurt locker, they are the only exits. Wovenhand, aka able Cain-slayer David Eugene Edwards (ex-16 Horsepower), opens. Tickets $15.