Tumbleweed kicks off with a throbbing, Georgio Moroder-esque dance beat, but this isn’t your father’s EDM. “Right Hand” employs a muffled drum sample from the Louis Prima playbook while icy synth notes pulse along the high end and digital handclaps offset the “Sing Sing Sing” tom tom beat. But the arrangement never goes on too long, constantly changing its mind like a Ritalin junkie at a vending machine. “Space House West” starts with a single-string guitar riff. As the song builds over syncopated percussion, a deep, whistling whine takes hold, rising in volume and pitch, sounding like a Kamikaze plane swooping directly for your head. Instead of resolving in the expected bass drop, the sounds converge and then ooze into a new feel. The title track sounds more organic with its two-note bass duping the beat, and when it segues into “Upscale,” a new guitar riff appears and it almost sounds like a band is playing, not a laptop. Eventually the robot overlords ease back into the picture and do battle with a lone, pathetic cymbal. That skirmish gives way to a few bars of rattling jazz drum licks, then — oh, crap, the Kamikaze is back! And finally, inevitably — a bass drop. The rave-worthy beat then morphs into what sounds like a hive full of robot bees, with finger pops and a huge subsonic bass driving the beat. Is Tumbleweed five songs? Is it 45 songs? Or is it one seamless adventure? Who cares? Just put it on repeat.