Weird and wonderful, Birthing Hips has cultivated such a tight, unique, clear sound for themselves that the fact that No Sorry is their debut full-length album is pretty staggering. Released last month (about a season after last spring’s very kool LIVE AT SKOOL, which featured live versions of several songs on No Sorry), this wholly captivating work of high art rock doesn’t lose any life in the studio at all, but rather offers the completely oxygenated body of a wild animal (possibly in heat). We’re just lucky that this combination of humans found each other, and that we get to listen to it whenever we want.

Greetings from a spattering of quirks, glitches, and crashes — that’s how Birthing Hips says “Hello Hello” as vocalist Carrie Furniss pounces from purr to hiss. No Sorry smiles wide and flashes its fangs before it bites, dialectically personal and political, with sharp musings on gender, sexuality, and emotion. Just as strong as their structures are the strengths of their collapses; hearing guitarist Wendy Eisenberg, drummer Owen Liza, and bassist Andres Abenante infallibly mesh amidst transitions from togetherness to individual explorations is one of the highlights of the album. Provocativity withstanding, Birthing Hips plays a childlike hopscotch back and forth over the line from communion to controlled cacophony, rapturously free, less like improvised jazz and more like a collective of libertines stimulated by sound.

Really quickly, I’d like to add that they’re one of the sickest bands I’ve seen live in a minute. If you weren’t among the lucky creatures that were able to see their recent show with Shonen Knife, fear not. Forget about all the tense moments you shared with your morally-questionable cousins over the holiday, just roll that bloated body from your grandma’s couch to the Opaque Cabin this sunday for the No Sorry tape release show. Birthing Hips is gonna sell you their tapes and you’re gonna like ‘em.