Every time I hear Black Francis scream, "I am Un Chien Andalusia," I have a moment of solidarity - Me, too, Frankie! Me, too! - and I know from the sounds of Drowning Cupid, the Orphins share that moment with me. Their grainy, punchy, paranoid pop reminds me most of vintage Pixies, and for that I love them almost instantly.

"Camp Cryotop" begins our strange journey like a weird indie rock workout video. It is jumpy and energetic, but always self-conscious and gritty. From there, "Devilduck" establishes more kinship with the Bossanova crowd by incorporating a love of strained surf rock in unexpected places. The style suits them perfectly and makes the album that more enjoyable. It is constantly playtime, but nothing is quite played straight.

"Chinese Prom" introduces some hefty organ lines, bringing in warped New Wave notions of another beloved band, the Talking Heads, and revels in onstage dramatics just for fun. The album just keeps going in this fashion, wholly enjoying its own twists and turns - Drowning Cupid is nothing if not consistently sporadic and tirelessly spontaneous. It is marked by bug-eyed, frantic distortion, tingling guitars, evil curiosities and an unquenchable thirst for fun - each signature adds to the Orphins' appeal as they take great joy in weirding everybody out. That's what makes us so alike, but also so well liked. Just ask Frank.