The eccentric lo-fi recordings of New England upstart Merrill Garbus, or Tune-Yards as she is better known, are full of more whimsy and oddity than it is possible to resist. Her irreverent offerings are impelled by incessant grooving and a veritable kaleidoscope of colourful sounds, charging through distorted ukulele noises and vocal loops to often dazzling effect. It won't appeal to all but there is something magical at the heart of this for those able to stomach its surrealist trappings.

Wholekill is her sophomore release and sees the singer more armed with more ambition and scope second time around. Saxophones have entered the fray along with ceaseless percussion and traces of electronics. What remains the same is the power and pull of her distinct vocal blasts; like a female throwback to post-hardcore band the Blood Brothers, Garbus' voice emits squeals of reckless abandon.

The record skits through varied cuts of strange and beguiling indie pop that simmer with intrigue and swagger with moments of stark raving genius. 'Bizness' threads bass through the path of descending vocal ostinatos and boasts a rousing chorus shout that is as catchy and contagious as you're likely to hear all year. Some crisp guitar work makes album closer 'Killa' sound like an off-cut from Graceland era Paul Simon, were the 'Kodachrome' songsmith dosed with hallucinogens and given a drum machine. 'Doorstep' meanwhile is a fantastical lull that drops the onslaught of sound for a more forgiving bass-guided jaunt, complete with cooing backing vocals straight out of fifties rock and roll.

Powerfully wild and unkempt, Garbus has stitched together a patchwork quilt of curious sounds and field recordings that on paper shouldn't work, but emphatically do. A garbled collection of pseudo-noise pop songs, it is an as enthralling a ride as you could hope for to soundtrack the impending summer months. Mind-melting and marvellous.