Animal Collective's forthcoming Strawberry Jam leaked not so long ago to the usual atmosphere of blanket adoration and personal vendetta. You love 'em, you hate 'em, you ate 'em -- the Animal Collective have unquestionably been a band to draw all sorts of ardency through their Play-Doh melodies, difficult vocal effects, the various annoying noises: it's all there, well-documented and accounted for under the various unsubtle guises of Quasimodo Beatles Bros and Darth Raped My Ear (to a beat of total sickness). But take one listen to "Banshee Beat" and all the detractions seem quelled, necessary even -- this band operates out of sync with perfection. They are imperfect, always moving on the cusp of the great divide before sliding back into the windy sandbox. This is why "Banshee Beat" worked and "Fireworks" works so well: by conjuring up sustained moods through mutable and never precisely defined sounds. Here, the flanged-out rhythm track is unwavering and tenuous, light feet and shredded nerves: it veritably out-queases Avey Tare's mercurial vocal turn through circus conductor to circus freak and back again. The song is circular but insular, spinning in little melodic curlicues back into itself, flitting in and out of focus, focusing on nothing but itself. Self-absorbed? Sure. "I'm only all I see sometimes," Tare declares in the heathen refrain. You kind of have to agree: the machinations of the song are worked immaculately, the obsessive minutiae packed in and intermittently puffed to hooky largesse. Toy piano figures don't feel garishly anchored, the notes don't so much drop as daintily dance atop the rushing air that forms the song's nebulous core, its central tenet and pivotal point of un-focus. It all adds up to another formidable achievement in what increasingly seems like a banner year for this exciting group of musicians.

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