Experimental music isn't supposed to be as approachable as Magik Markers, but at times "pop-" feels like almost as fitting a modifier as "noise-" for the Brooklyn-via-Connecticut group's rock.

Experimental music isn't supposed to be as approachable as Magik Markers, but at times "pop-" feels like almost as fitting a modifier as "noise-" for the Brooklyn-via-Connecticut group's rock.

Albums like "Boss" and "Balf Quarry" are peppered with troubled Kim Gordon-style coos, Liz Phair sass, Fever Ray ruminations, a bit of Akron/Family hippie mumbo jumbo and even some fleeting traces of Fiery Furnaces' off-kilter cartoon spirit. The ramshackle fuzz of "Risperdal" is like femme Pavement at that time of the month, while "State Numbers" builds around a piano sample that could have been jacked from Philip Glass.

There's so much artsy artifice that it's surprising how easy it is to tap into the songs at Magik Markers' core. Their catalog is proof that smart, so-called pretentious art music doesn't have to be impenetrable after all.