One part Dead Kennedys, two parts Sleepytime Gorilla Museum and maybe a third of a part Death From Above 1979, Lozenge are the one jam band you should patronize this year, even if you don't like jam bands. Well, they're sort of a jam band, or at least, they sound like they might be. Well, listen: their music is noisy, relentless, often surprisingly intricate, and occasionally totally chaotic.

The Sleepytime Gorilla Museum comparison is probably the most illuminating. Metal percussionist Philip Montoro has a similar style -- ultimately less ridiculously detailed, but still noteworthy and almost as sophisticated as it is savage, especially taken in tandem with drummer Mark Stevens's collaboration. An air of deranged genius pervades Lozenge's work. The two groups also share a talent for aural assault.

This is where the Death From Above 1979 comparison comes into play. Lozenge's attack is as deliberate as it is noisy, as wild within their idiom of choice as it is focused on that specialty. Though they often embark on unplanned excursions, they never lose sight of where they ultimately want to go. This degree of focus ought to be incompatible with their punky, devil-may-care adventurism, but that simply isn't the case.

The result is almost impossible to describe -- at least, if you want anyone to believe you -- but comes strongly recommended if you appreciate the aforementioned bands, Dufus, Babyland, or even Godspeed You! Black Emperor. On the assumption that those groups' fans won't accept that recommendation without a supporting argument, we'll take a closer look at Undone.

Opener "Grychchyng & Gruntyng", for instance, begins with a steady, grinding, crunching, catchy and slightly overpowering melody. A simple, danceable rhythm is tossed into the mix, but almost immediately, Stevens fucks with it. He adds a few odd beats to mess, hitting twice where you expect once, once where you expect twice, and four times when you expect nothing at all. This goes on for about a minute and a half, at which point the song is careening out of control. Kurt Johnson's cacophonous guitar tries to keep up with Kyle Bruckmann's keyboards, and only half succeeds, and Stevens and Montoro go fucking nuts; it's impossible to decide whether to dance or laugh or just stand and shake in fear. This storm blows over in an incomprehensible burst of free jazz, then hurls itself even further into the realm of incoherent noise, and then -- hey, look, a carnival! Or at least it sounds like one. Wheee!

"An Exhortation" feature's Bruckmann's unhinged accordion, more overpowered bass, and beautiful, deranged exchanges between the two percussionists. This one almost has a recognizable structure. "Bamn Bamn" is built on primitive free-wheeling beats and Boris Hauf's incoherent but strangely compelling tenor sax.

"Eyeteeth" is another opportunity for Montoro to shine, though he's almost overshadowed by Bruckmann's sinister keys. This is one of Undone's few vocal tracks, in which Bruckmann vents his anxieties about the things that advertisers and propagandists have put in his head -- and his fear that he won't be able to unearth anything new, but rather will continuously spew their slogans and ideas. "I swear I've seen this somewhere before!" he screams. "I swear I've seen this somewhere before!"

"Chicknshit" is the song you'll use to convert unsuspecting friends. Compressing the deranged madness that is Lozenge at their best into three and a half minutes of skittering metal, gang-shouted lyrics and rattling metal percussion, it makes a convenient legend for deciphering Undone's stylistic map. You can see all the parts here -- the madcap percussion, what passes for melody, the jams, and the general feeling of sanity only loosely grasped. It's great stuff.

At once ham-fisted and elusive, wild and focused, improvisational and tightly composed, Undone is rife with contradictions. Where other jam bands fail, Lozenge succeed though judicious self-editing and a willingness to take risks. Where other jam bands succeed, Lozenge surpass all expectations.