Though better known for building the institution that is Boston’s imminent post-everything band, Pile, Rick Maguire’s work as a solo artist is the thread that started it all. Sinewy and hypnotic guitar lines that to the untrained ear may recall such easy signposts as Slint or (Smog) slowly reveal themselves to be something more, something so hypnotic that all frame of reference is lost in the process. Maybe it’s a bit like standing in place, staring at a subway train that never stops going. Or maybe it’s the blues. Who can say?