If Danny Elfman hadn't scored Forbidden Zone, Austin's Bee vs. Moth could have done a pretty good job. The horn-heavy quartet comes equipped with trumpet and vibraphone, supplanted on debut Soundhorn with Holland Hopson on soprano sax and Jerome Smith on trombone. Opener "Doom Equity" sounds as impish as anything the Mystic Knights of the Oingo Boingo ever committed to the sixth dimension, but the band's branches in the New Music Co-op give it a distinct Texas feel: the experimental and Latin on "Moskva," Southern swamp on "Lead Foot," the toast to Ornette Coleman on "Rock & Roll Monkey Pants," romanced by a drunken midsong skronk-down. Lyrics would be too much here; Soundhorn's instrumental ups and downs (was that a bass solo?) are enough to follow on their own. Hard ear candy for your soft inner child. Can a Bee vs. Moth Saturday morning cartoon be far behind?

-Audra Schroeder

If pressed to classify Bee vs. Moth’s debut album, one would most likely futilely revert to “jazz,” though that hardly does justice to the strange and far-reaching versatility that sprawls throughout the instrumental album. From the opening song, appropriately titled “Doom Equity” and introducing the band with a contorting overture of various genres pillaged on what follows, the group seems intent on defying expectations. An electric guitar spikes the first note, followed by bursting big band horns, all of which segue into an almost metal drudge after the first minute, something akin to Boris collaborating with Ornette Coleman. Inexplicably, by minute three the song has dropped into a vibraphone tiki beat and trumpet solo, as an ominous bass slowly builds to swell and we’re back where we started. And that’s just the first song.

That playful attitude never dissipates, and at times is even overthrown with a zesty ridiculousness. “My Nephew Raymond” vacillates between a cartoonish spree of the Tuba bounce and a salsa-flavored sway, while the almost 8-minute long “Rock ‘N’ Roll Monkey Pants” is fairly well-summed up by its name - a rhythmic snare and bass marching behind an arabesque of improvised horns and a rustling that is most likely the “box of glass” listed among the instruments, all of which explodes in a screech of free jazz freak-out by the end. Ivo Gruner’s trumpet seems to lead the core quartet on many of the songs, though the real versatility of their sound lies in Philip Moody’s bass and Sarah Norris’ percussion (Aaryn Russell rounds out the lineup on guitar, while additional horns are contributed by Jerome Smith, Holland Hopson, and Mariah McPhail, with Brent Fariss supplying upright bass).

“Tjamls” may be the most traditionally jazzy of the tunes, guitar and horn solos backed by light cymbals and smooth bass line. But given the wavering electronic buzz accenting "Pancake Factory” or the sturm und drang of “Lead Foot’s” metal hammer, the album is as restless as a hive on fire, or to continue the play on their name, a moth darting dangerously close the bug zapper. Elsewhere “Absurdity Weather System” fluctuates in a tempest of its own, while closer “This Ungoatly Hour” builds from an almost ambient thrumming to the requisite horn crescendo and strafed guitar, dropping into a lonesome trumpet solo, and then bursting into a frenetic conclusion. This is jazz for the ADD generation.

-Doug Freeman

Bee vs. Moth: these folks play quirky, eclectic, clever, energetic, subtle, playful little ditties, and their live show is quite fun if you are willing to actually pay attention and give yourself over to their art. The main point of reference is jazz with an occasional rock or pop edge, but I describe them as "jazz/not-jazz". Wacky and serious at the same time, holding simple and technical elements in dynamic tension, displaying serious chops and ability to jam, yet concentrating on the internal structure of each piece, Bee vs. Moth embark on the road less taken.

-Owen M.