The "instant" is a double-edged sword; the world is so fucking demanding these days..."I need to hear X band's new track instantly!", "man I need a coffee instantly".. .and then those people in the world that want success, fame and riches handed to them on a plate, instantly. But then there's another type of "instant", the one that hits you right in the face when you least expect it, like the debut EP from this Brooklyn duo Yellerkin. Out of nowhere, no fanfare, four tracks of fragile sunny beauty that grab your shoulder, spin you round and slap you right in the mush.

Only fifteen minutes in length, Yellerkin is the work of longtime friends Adrian Galvin and Luca Buccellati; it's a colourful, psychedelic exercise in feeling goddamned free, a dip in a freezing cold lake or lying naked in the desert letting the sun do its thing. It's nothing but an uplifting experience, describe it any way that you fancy. There's a touch of Flaming Lips in there, and plenty of the carefree harmony of Gorilla Manor-era Local Natives at the point when they were a loveable shambles, and plenty of glitch electro inspired by anyone from Four Tet to Postal Service. It's folky, synthy, contained and expansive.

Opening with the frantic drumming and acoustic strumming of 'Solar Laws', a rhythm that underpins some high register crooning, a vocal that's instantly addictive once it's given centre stage, the song positively soars. Yet it feels breakable if it were to be handled carelessly, an eggshell of a track, like the positivity is hiding something a little more melancholic.

'Leave Me Be' certainly doesn't hide its sadness under a bright façade; it's a slow-burning synth buzz like vintage Dntl with a lyric that's the grimmest singalong you'll have in a long time: "So leave me be / why can't I sleep / the image of you here / is so haunting..." The click-and-snap electro of 'Tomboy' follows and is the song that drops much of the instrumentation and focuses on the harmonies that Yellerkin has up their collective sleeve. It's a really lovely and sensitively-judged track, and is followed and closed by the glitchy, slippy rhythms of 'Vines'. It's a curiously spare way to end an EP that opens on such vibrancy, but you can hear the journey Yellerkin are taking us on.

Above all, Yellerkin is the instant we'd all prefer; welcoming, a pleasant surprise and more of a warm embrace than the slap in the face I mentioned earlier. More please, Yellerkin.