Women are men, for the record, and the breadth of their small experiments on this disc belies its 29-minute length. Recorded in a basement by labelmate Chad VanGaalen, the album’s antsy straddle between pop and noise parallels bands like Animal Collective, though Women’s brand of tumult is more minimal, less riotous. The fluidity of their arrangements is impressive, but it might be counterproductive: the most compelling moments here occur after buzzing guitar ambience coheres into song. “Black Rice” is the effortless standout, a pretty little dirge that hits the brakes on their juddering guitar lines. That allows twinkling piano and vaguely surf-rock bass to leap in (it’s very roomy, this metaphorical car) and cruise, bouncing along the chunky drumbeat to a rocky, rain-slicked beach.

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