Mt. St. Helens Vietnam Band’s debut album introduced them as an indecisive indie band, fond of using power chords while incorporating elements of other genres. Varying tempos and time signatures, as well as the occasional spell of synths and strings, made the self-titled album a multifaceted amalgamation of musical odds and ends. One year on, the family-come-band return with more of their self-branded “chaotic energy”, still latching onto their experimental ways but loosening their grasp on the reigns of indie-punk.

The opening track, ‘At Night’, sets the album off to a strong start. A warm air of Arcade Fire and Fleet Foxes is instilled by fluttering strings and the double layer of vocals provided by the married couple, Benjamin Verdoes and Traci Egglestgon.

Brazen stabs of guitar touch on the jutting riff in Pink Floyd’s Money while adding an unexpected hint of rock-opera showiness. A similarly close atmosphere is evident in sections of the rest of the album, such as in ‘The Roof’, a track smothered in synthy organs and easy-going drums so that it sounds like an elongated and formalised Kaiser Chiefs.

Between these trippy episodes, the band sporadically reverts to experimentation and indie-punk fuzziness. Slick guitar licks reminiscent of The Buzzcocks and early The Strokes line the polyphonic fusions ‘Leaving Trails’ and ‘Hurrah’. A math-rock cut-paste unpredictability underpins a handful of the tracks. It sometimes works well, giving a nod to modern melody-weavers like Dutch Uncles and Airship. More often than not, though, it makes listening uncomfortable; both ‘You Were/ I Was’ and ‘George Clark’ leave you disorientated, struggling to find the tune amongst the disjointed rhythm. The incoherent genre-leaping nature of the album only adds to this dizziness.

One minute Mt. St. Helens Vietnam Band is a group of wandering troubadours striking foreign-sounding instruments. Next minute, they’re attempting to be Arcade Fire but lack mind-blowing electricity. Then, all of a sudden, they create a powerful concoction of heady who-knows-what. Maybe this mind-baffling playtime with music, where genres are mashed together inconsistently, is exactly what the musical family aim to be known for. If this isn’t the intention, then one can’t help but wonder whether the band is simply trying to emulate all of their favourite bands at once. The title may be an explanation of the weirdly-fused genre zaps: Where The Messengers Meet could be a mysterious and polite way of saying ‘here the pilfered sounds of our most-loved artists collide’.