Dinowalrus - % (2010) [Kanine] // Grade: A

The title of Dinowalrus’ debut full-length isn’t difficult to pronounce, but it does take you a second to get there. Percentage? Percent sign? No. Percent. Obviously. But get used to that sensation—you’ll find yourself embroiled in this mental do-si-do for the album’s long haul. Is it psych? Noise? Experimental? Can or Sonic Youth? Are the vocals great or grating? Is this song fast or slow? Who knows; Dinowalrus is impossible to figure out.

They’re also impossibly good—a real testament to the Brooklyn trio’s ability to translate a clusterfuck of elements into something legitimately listenable. Put Thurston Moore and Lee Ranaldo in a room with Brian Eno and Add (N) to X and maybe—maybe—you get to the heart of %. Throw some saxophones and clarinets in there for good measure, plus a healthy dose of 2001: A Space Odyssey, because hey—why not? In the Dinowalrus universe, no song is wholly one thing or the other. For every theramin space-loop a la “East German Western” or the first 30 seconds of “Bead”, there are a dozen noisy guitar riffs and even more yelpy, fuzzed out vocals. It’s not until the “I Hate Numbers”/”I Hate Letters” duo that % seems to find its anchor—the hazy drone of an interlude turned suddenly four-to-the-floor, sexy and growling—but it immediately checks itself with a pseudo-surf/rockabilly jam (“Cage Those Pythons”) and then, no shit, a track that feels like Pink Floyd gone shoegaze (“Haze On The Mobius Strip”). Talk about constant reinvention.

But see, that’s a thing with Dinowalrus: they love turning on a dime. % is totally mired in the act of catching you off guard. I mean, it’s not uncommon for a song to go through five iterations—fast, slow, ethereal, minimal, thrashing—before landing right where it started. Curiouser and curiouser; like Alice’s rabbit hole, % doesn’t make sense because it doesn’t need to—the energy is so infectious, its landscape so bright and surprising, you simply don’t want to escape. And what a fun, weird place to be trapped.

- Rue Sauvage