Building on several well-received, vinyl-only singles, this Sacramento/Brooklyn instrumental quintet negotiate the space between experimental art rock and beat culture by turning the dichotomy in on itself. Their debut is at once contemplative and visceral, capable of coaxing exotic sounds into a submissive dance groove. Out Hud’s influences are transparent but vital: their punky energy is fused with dance-floor rhythms in the same pre-hip-hop style of ESG and Liquid Liquid, and their songs reverberate with the accented, isolated dub clangs of Adrian Sherwood’s On-U Sound System.

On "The L Train Is a Swell Train and I Don’t Want To Hear You Indies Complain," they conjure a tempestuous soundclash of electronic stabs that ultimately gives birth, at the nine-minute mark, to a wondrous layering of bowed strings and skittering drums. It recalls Tortoise’s epic "Djed," and like that group, Out Hud, who share members with Tortoise, have an ambitious notion of where rock can and should go. "Dad, There’s a Little Phrase Called Too Much Information" builds a crescendo of distorted bass hits and echoing guitar flares; its reprise, the album’s last track, supplants the harnessed bedlam with a more staid, electro-inspired Latin groove. Most important, by focusing on people’s backsides instead of just their craniums, Out Hud make post-rock without pretense that’s actually danceable.