For two genres that could hardly stand the sight of one another until a decade or two ago, rock and dance music have been getting on surprisingly well of late, as proponents of each style liberally plunder the other to varying degrees. Indie bands barely get a second glance nowadays unless they’ve got a drum machine and a synthesiser. On the other side of the fence, French electro duo Justice raised some eyebrows last year by sprinkling a meaty portion of vintage riffs and AC/DC swagger into their slick disco stew.

Norwegian group 120 Days operate at this same intersection of rock and dance, where the organic and the automated cross paths. The band’s 2006 self-titled debut straddled the junction admirably, a fascinating mix of prog rock space-outs, mechanised krautrock and the frosty synths that seem to come so naturally to Scandinavian producers.

Despite the band going all Led Zep for the title of their new LP 120 Days II, the album marks a subtle shift in the band’s direction, the rock influences quietly sidelined to make room for a much more comprehensive electronic approach. Enough components of their earlier sound are here (Adne Meisfjord’s distorted, Born Slippy-ish vocals, for example) to make II welcoming to existing fans, but where 120 Days once sounded like a proper Primal Scream-esque hybrid band, it’s clear they’re now leaning more towards the dancefloor than the moshpit. While a band like, say, Three Trapped Tigers spice their guitar-dominated sound with some synthesised elements, here, electro is the main ingredient.

As luck would have it, the band’s deeper foray into the dance landscape is well judged, well executed and, crucially, well good. ‘Dahle Disco’, a ten-minute club scorcher that provides the album’s undoubted highlight, sets the new template perfectly. A slow-burning accumulation of glittering synths accompanies a steadily-intensifying beat at the song’s outset, before it cartwheels into life with one of the most instantly gratifying mid-sections you’ll hear this year. From there, it’s a riot of ideas as each new beat builds and takes over before surrendering to a new, equally addictive hook. It’s ten minutes of pure neon-drenched inner city cool; so much so that it almost sounds like it rolled off the bonnet of Cliff Martinez’s superb Drive soundtrack.

Although the rest of the album can’t quite live up to this Lindstrøm-produced titan, its best moments provide a similar scintillating sensation. The industrial rumble of seductive closer ‘Osaka’ would probably be well received at a club night for hungry vampires (if this club existed in a world where Stephenie Meyer hasn’t ruined vampires for everyone everywhere). The ‘Lucid Dreams’ triptych, meanwhile, takes the time and space afforded by three tracks to capitalise on the undulating momentum that ends up being this album’s calling card.

Admittedly, those looking for an emotional connection had best look elsewhere. II’s metallic textures aren’t built to accommodate human feeling, and Meisfjord’s intermittent vocals seem better suited to conveying a snarling, pent-up attitude than any real meaning. As a result, the album tends to lose its way when it breaks the new mould the band have built for themselves, as on the Animal Collective-meets-Doors drone of ‘Sleepless Nights #4’. But in light of the album’s strengths, it seems churlish to criticise it for not achieving something it probably never bothered to attempt in the first place. As an effortlessly charismatic urban soundscape and a shoo-in for best nighttime driving music of the year, 120 Days II stands as the master of its own realm.