Deep Time

Necessity breeds invention, as it goes, and Austin-based duo Deep Time can vouch for that. Guitarist and vocalist Jennifer Moore and drummer Adam Jones find inspiration in minimalism, having wholly embraced the constraints of the two-person setup in their quest for forward musical movement.

Formerly known as Yellow Fever, the band became Deep Time after running into a legal snag. "We like the new name, and it kind of feels like a fresh start," Moore says. "But it hasn't really affected how we play." The group's terrific new self-titled record features some seriously slanted music, a mercilessly catchy blend of stripped-down guitar-pop and fractured, rhythmic post-punk. It's simultaneously dense and airy, mystical and danceable, heady and razor-sharp. Moore's sonorous vocal work and her ear for weird, rich melody are ideal counterparts to Jones' tense, spasmodic style.

But Deep Time's tunes are just as notable for the space that remains unfilled. "We don't wanna put unnecessary parts in our songs. We don't mind having the space in there," Moore says, adding that the choice is practical as much as stylistic. "There's two of us, so we want to be able to play [live]."

Deep Time's music unfolds in wonderfully unexpected ways; it seems constantly shifting, never satisfied (though always highly satisfying). It's pop gone rogue, subtly irreverent and boundary-pushing.

"We write pop songs," Moore explains, "but what we're building around them, we want it to be interesting. [It's] more about how things sound, and experimenting that way."

Deep Time is the type of work that reveals itself more deeply with each listen, that rare record that feels absolutely boundless. Blending the earthly with the avant-garde is a challenge that many have undertaken, but the results are not usually this thrilling.