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If their sonic brethren Animal Collective are the Robert Crumb of the Brooklyn noise family, able to convert their peculiar sonics into something populist and generational, then Black Dice are the perpetually esoteric older Crumb brother Charles: inscrutable, agoraphobic, undeniably brilliant but just as undeniably demented. All descriptions apply to their fifth album, with each track bursting at the seams with warped sounds. The trio whip through all manner of rubber-band noise on "La Cucaracha," screw down otherwise danceable breaks for "Ultra Vomit Craze," and mix alien choirs with punk shouts ("Glazin"). Now, if they could only get off the couch.

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