With his nasal wail spinning ring-around-the-rosies about candy, frogs, and Mom, Andy Molholt wears his childhood theme on his snot-crusted sleeve. But time uncomfortably warps his playground doo-wop and finger-paint psych pop: these songs are less about the scary and fantastic experiences of being a kid than the behavioral patterns and ingrained perspectives that develop in their wake. The bubblegum smile bares its teeth, gnawing on your unanswered questions and insecurities: “A far off flashback flickering / The plot of my weakening”.

The songs are school-virus catchy, with riffs galore, layered swells and drops, funky four-on-the-floors, the ever-present processed boy’s chorus, and wordplay like “Lizard lips / All crackled and dry from smoking your / Pack a day cigarettes … A false confidence / Constructing a web in order to / Lie without consequence”. The songs are well constructed too, with interesting chromatic flashes, abrupt dynamic and rhythmic turns, and saturated arrangements. The kinetic carousel interludes, with unintelligible mumblings, dissonant stabs of guitar, and fever dream 8-bit arpeggios, update the mania of Mr. Kite.

Super Future Montage (Societe Expeditionnaire / Carl’s Jr Tapes) is all in on its frantic free association. This is a party record that’ll make your friends suddenly tear up from subconscious probing. Andy is still a kid in that he’s comfortable confronting you with unfettered honesty.