It may only be a scant almost-but-not-quite six months since Laurel Halo released her lauded EP Behind The Green Door, but she's powered through over the summer and whipped up a delicious serving of music in the form of her sophomore LP, labelled Chance Of Rain. The NYC-based Ann Arbour native has astounded onlookers multiple times with her skewed take on ambient dance, UK/Detroit techno and electronica. At times, she can twist and contort the conventions of chosen genres, alienating listeners, but when she's feeling less avant-garde, her noises divulge an indulgent hedonism.

On Chance Of Rain Halo takes established musical styles, and put them through a savage gauntlet of bedroom-producer FX, genre fluxing, and mad scientist experiments, blurring the lines between the banal and the surreal, between the mundane and the transcendental. Take Halo's 'Thrax'. It's a techno-meets-trance neo-dance belter, with squirming, screwball samples that sound like someone drowning Imogen Heap's 'Hide and Seek' in lime jelly, jerky phaser blasts ricocheting off arrhythmic steel pans and engorged synths growing and shrinking like a blood blister. It's equal measures effervescent wobble and rank'n'file sonic beigeness, making something uniquely psychological - it fades into the background easy enough, but then Orbital-esque squelches and frenetic robotic ephemera ensure the cut lurches back into your frontal lobe.

It doesn't just stop there. 'Dr. Echt' sounds like stepping into an instalment of the Ecco franchise. Enchanting, globules of synth flubble around and meander through a belligerent briny; Halo's effort is similar atonal, mystical and unnerving. Efforts like 'Melt' sound like the mid-nightmare inspiration of Wes Craven put to music - art-classical styles blends with droning synths, darkwave clarinets and sampled rainstorms. It's desolate, devoid of identity and unhinged. 'Ainnome' ventures towards the rhythmic zone of drum'n'bass, though there's plenty of ambient pad haze to marvel at too. It's a minimalist track, but the soft, clean bass and stuttering beats ensure that it's not an aural wasteland.

Halo's euphoric vacation into a wealth of electronic styles yields results that range from pretty great to flamin' epic. It's not an album for the vanilla of heart - hooks are scattered conservatively, even the dance elements are fractured and it's often a disorienting listen - but within these cavalier experiments lays Halo's charm. Somehow, through some strange supernatural prowess, she unfurls something wholly addictive and endearing. Not endearing like a fluffy puppy or a basket of kittens, but more like a baby lizard. Not everyone's going to find it cute and approachable, but those that do will love it unrequitedly.

Chance Of Rain careens through a dance chicane, weaving between the lands of pop excess and minimalist ambience; it's never still for long enough to be fully pigeonholed, merely slotting partially into pigeoncaverns (which are much larger). It's a record crammed with sonic delights for those with a penchant for the deranged or for those needing a soundtrack for nefarious activities. It's dark and malevolent, and weird and obtuse - amidst all the oddities it proffers, you'll still be hypnotised onto the dancefloor as if Laurel Halo was the Pied Piper of Hamelin and Chance Of Rain were her magic pipe.