In an electronic music scene largely defined by pulsing festival-ready beats at one end and glitchy, abstract introspection at the other, Corey Regensburg, aka Moon Bounce, stands out as something of an enigma. His peculiar blend of joyous, warped synths, choppy beats, and brilliantly simple, self-aware lyrics doesn't fit neatly into any subgenre. So he invented his own.

I arrive in Ann Arbor on a freezing Wednesday in February determined to get to the bottom of "mutant pop" and the man who creates it. I probe him on his influences, his songwriting process, and the new material he's working on. I look for any hint of the tongue-in-cheek darkness that runs through his work in his infectious positivity. It's a night of little moments, of tiny revelations. The first?

Moon Bounce is agoraphobic. Not in the classic sense, mind you: it's not crowds or open spaces that give him pause when leaving the house. It's dick pics.

He's referring, of course, to Snapchat, with its base of over 100 million monthly users, and its humble beginnings and continued use as a sexting app. He asks me to imagine all of the aforementioned images zooming through the air around us as he swats wildly, fighting off an onslaught of flying phalluses.

Two hours before showtime, we are standing in the Blind Pig, fully submerged in its classic brand of dinge. Without the multicolor lights bouncing off the disco ball overhead--likely a relic of a time when disco balls were appreciated unironically--it's impossible to miss the vinyl tiles peeling up beneath us. Stained from years of beer, vomit, and any other number of illicit substances, they seem to be fleeing the concrete floor beneath. The table onstage, covered first with a ratty blanket and then with Corey's equipment, is more "company barbecue" or "outdoor wedding" than "headlining set".

But that doesn't hinder his enthusiasm. Onstage for soundcheck, after tinkering extensively with his gear, he grabs the microphone. "Daddy wants a pizza pie!" he exclaims repeatedly, his voice readily shifting octaves from death-metal growl to a near-falsetto. Towards the end, he plays a spirited round of the penis game, all call and no response, causing the heavily bearded club worker removing stools from the bar to smile and shake his head. His joy is officially airborne.

"'Moon Bounce is [editors note: not] a diva.' I can see it now," he says. "'He thinks he's Kanye West.'"

Moments earlier, we duck out of the cold and into a Japanese restaurant a block or so from the club. The host assesses our ragtag crew (which includes Jonah Baseball and fellow headliner Flamingosis) with a faint hint of disapproval. "The kitchen closes in ten minutes." It doesn't matter; we'll be gone in two. That's how long it takes us to scan the menu for affordable entrées and realize that there are none--though we do get a laugh out of the $35 "Tuna Festival". It takes slightly less than that to order waters and realize that we are severely underdressed.

Despite what he says afterward, it's not Corey leading the charge out the door. In truth, he's the opposite of a diva, affable to a fault, and he becomes increasingly uncomfortable as the conversation shifts from "nothing really looks good" to "I know we got waters, but that's OK, right?" and finally to "let's just bail." By the time we're seated at the hip Cuban-inspired diner down the street, his anxiety has dissipated. Over burgers dripping with egg, the musicians talk amongst themselves about South by Southwest, mutual friends, and the twin revolutions of Soundcloud and social media.

His face brightens when someone mentions metal--it was his first love as a teenage fan of Dillinger Escape Plan, and it brought him together with his "manager slash best friend" and fellow Grind Select label head Jeremy Garber. But everything changed in his freshman year at Philadelphia's UArts when a friend turned him on to M83. In Anthony Gonzalez's mix of epic synths and overflowing vocals, he found a new direction. Moon Bounce was born.

Gonzalez's marriage of experimental sound and pop sensibility is as good a reference point as any for the music Corey's been creating since. "I don't, like, write songs," he explains as we leave the restaurant. "I used to write songs on the piano and then try to turn them in to electronic projects. But now, I'll build a synth, and the way that sounds will shape how I want to build the chord progression."

That process has resulted in an enviable string of releases over the last year that include his EP Dress Rehearsal, the double A side 'Fool'/'Echo Back', and his latest solo track 'Body', which was hand-picked for Ryan Hemsworth's Secret Songs series. After an uneven set of introductory tracks that he now describes as "embarrassing", his latest material finds him confidently building and exploring his own sound--heavy beats that skitter and stop on a dime, synths that burst like fireworks over the top--and his own voice, metaphorically and quite literally.

"I'm really in to the little moments. That's what really does it for me... That's what gets me going the most."

Moon Bounce is not a DJ. Whatever anxieties and insecurities Corey may have offstage, he is a man possessed beneath the lights. After danceable but undramatic sets from the local openers, the crackling first bars of 'Body' are a revelation.

For the next forty minutes, his hands move maniacally, twisting knobs, hitting drum pads, and playing melodies on a synthesizer, only pausing to pick up the microphone. He seems to take each element and drape himself within, transforming both parties in the process. "I try to make sure that I always have something I'm doing up there," he tells me later. The moments when he steps away from the table to take a drink of water and dance are rare and celebratory. They feel earned.

By the time he closes with the double shot of 'Echo Back' and 'Fool', the crowd beneath him is sweating through their jogging pants and Nike Zooms. Electronic music is the medium; it's clear the message has been delivered.