Share on Facebook Share on Twitter Share on Google+ Share on Reddit Share on Pinterest Share on Linkedin Share on Tumblr One of the most fascinating by-products that emerges from freedom of expression is an artist’s ability to convey meaning using unclear methods. Even if their efforts are crude, dissonant or deliberately inaccessible, their art still expresses sentiments and ideas that a listener can find palatable. When this happens, it demonstrates that a creator’s vision, no matter how left-of-center, resounds in the hearts of plebeians like us. Heavy, pounding percussion often achieves this, as evidenced by the distorted yet popular rumbling of Sleigh Bells. An equally loud, cacophonous voice too can elicit an emotional response without actually saying anything clear. Most musicians demand their audience’s attention, and what better way to do that than by behaving as loudly and rambunctious as possible. That’s where Sea Moss comes in on their third LP, Bidet Dreaming, a further expansion on their irreverent, beat-driven soundscapes. Much the same as their previous efforts Bread Bored and Ugh, the album relies upon the brash antics of percussionist Zach D’Agostino and vocalist Noa Ver. The duo behind Sea Moss stacks everything and the kitchen sink, layering lo-fi vocals, whiny synths, and relentless beats and pushing it all over to record the sound it makes. Their third album solidifies their knack for constructing songs out of a storm of no wave and punk rock influences. Whereas Ugh delivered clarity on tracks featuring the Social Summit, Bidet Dreaming keeps the duo firmly discord. The twisted dial-up introduction of the title track jars you to attention, as if establishing a connection from Sea Moss to listeners. That way, when the synths begin to sound like a braying donkey filtered through an amp, you listen with intent rather than cast it off as ugliness. A bit of cowbell only further pushes this hooved-animal imagery, though this never quite detracts from it. After all, Ver’s screams and shouts serve as the jumping points for the preceding tracks “Better With Wine” and “Mammals in Paradise,” and her literal meaning cannot be easily determined. Her wails draw their purpose from her urgent but not quite frantic tone, the sound of someone with a message to relay. It often resembles a more lo-fi version of ESG, bare bones instrumentation stretched out into danceable, repetitive tracks in which feeling carries more importance than cohesion. “Fancy Shit” encapsulates this perfectly, with harsh yowls and hammering percussion proving themselves just as capable of expression as any rich harmony or accessible hook. This cleverness in naming rides over into “Knock Knock Joke.” Unlike the rest of the album, it begins with less momentum and pomp and spends much of its five minutes trying to find its pace, eventually settling on a propulsive snare tempo and fax machine drone to carry it into “Orange You Glad We Didn’t Stay Bananas?” That one pulls listeners in not through established sophistication but childlike experimentation. Bidet Dreaming charms you because of its impudence, not in spite of it. Though somewhat repetitive, Sea Moss’ latest continues their streak for percussive, harsh soundscapes that could accompany everything from your afternoon errands to a DIY basement gig. With playful audacity, Bidet Dreaming accomplishes a multitude of messages that may not seem clear. But their meaning is. The freedom of expression means that Sea Moss can connect with audiences on their own terms while mocking the established order along the way.