In a time warp of traditional patterns synchronized with futurist paradigms, Basketball conjures up a tapestry of shamanic disco coupled with hypnotic and nocturnal hooks. From the Persian scales to the gypsy-esque spirit, their live performances, like pseudo-religious rituals, induce mass dancing, roping bodies into possession. Many days and nights of tracking a near copy of their renegade live shows has culminated in a sonic opus, a revelry that continues far after the sun has come up. Their new album “Maw” suitably re-enacts the experience of the moon-soaked masses grinding away during the band’s notorious illegal park parties. Their cargo: drum machines, a constellation of percussion, Turkish zurna, Persian santur, and electric guitar, anchored by deep bass and cloaked with snaking vocals.