In a book of photos put together after the band’s debut record was finished, Honey Claws member Traey Hatch wrote a hyper-excited, love-filled intro saying, “Ninjas. Pimps. Crash Cymbals. Couch trips. Bus rides. A hot studio. Yelling, screaming, laughing. Too much beer, too little sleep. Overtime, overworked, overcoming adversity. Racquetball, running and Honey, claws that is. Hyena Scowl, yeah clowns, that’s right. Fuck it, we had fun and made some killer music!”

And therein lies the essence of the Austin-based band’s self-titled debut record. Its 14 tracks are based on that brand of playful, creative, wild-eyed, stream-of-consciousness energy. Multi-instrumentalists every one, the four-piece group moves through 49 minutes of innovative experimental hip-hop psychedelia that’s equal parts Panda Bear as it is Madlib.

The record is, at its very heart, an electronic animal, and when its heart beats you feel the floor shaking from sixty-six blocks away. Sexed-up beats pulse thick with electro bass while a whole pile of robotic trippiness blankets the sound in a way that recalls likeminded souls Daft Punk, Odelay-era Beck, and Kraftwerk. Still, the sound is all their own. Without Honey Claws there would be no Honey Claws music. Without Honey Claws music there would be no Honey Claws. It is a unique and new creature unto itself. American musical evolution incarnate.

According to a 3hive.com write-up, “Honey Claws is just the sort of thing I’d hope to run into at 1 am, my feet weary from the walking, my head hurting from all the rocking, but these grooves would buoy me up for another couple hours.”

Put on Honey Claws’ debut and consider yourself buoyed. Band-mates Thomas Sahs, Ben Wah, and Traey Hatch lay down the tapestry of summer love trip-out jam funk while Jon Von Letscher drops beats alongside his half-lovelorn/half-crunked-up rhymes with all the power of the Oxford English Dictionary dosed up on E.

Here’s your invitation to the sickest party of the summer.