Dance-y dub bass lines conjoined to spazzy tribal-punk drums isn't necessarily the rarest find, but add a shrieky, front-porched, heel-stomping folky violin as the main melodic instrument and the novelty blossoms. That this spirited and uncommon foundation is being worked by three lesbian punks from Portland, Ore., and that two of them are African-American, and that all three sing, yelp, and shout-- often in-the-round, sometimes in unison-- makes things increasingly more interesting and even harder to peg.

Add to those unlikely equations the fact that these young ladies have done their homework regarding subcultural agitators: Two of them, violinist Osa Atoe and drummer Adee Roberson, had known each other through the underground zine trading scene where they each documented and heralded black subculture (political, musical, visual arts) and riot grrrl bands in their respective publications Shotgun Seamstress (Atoe's), and Finger on the Trigger (Roberson's now retired mag). This appears to have laid a good foundation for not only quality prose (diggin' the inner strength-seeking childlike fantasy lyrics of "No. 17" and "Tree"), but sonically may have helped them to crib a little from heroes like ESG, Sleater-Kinney, the Raincoats, and Kleenex.

On paper, the New Bloods' disparate musical styles don't sound like such a great combo: Tunes such as "Behind Mountains" and "Doubles" contrast angular and aggressive rhythmic bass and drum attacks with a joyously twisted Americana violin-- too arty to call it a fiddle-- but then on top of all that are bouncy bassist Cassia Gammill's velvety smooth vocal lines, Atoe's punky sing-song-y speak-sing, and Roberson's sporadic reggae-toasting shouts. It shouldn't work, but it does. It's a wild and wonderful combination where weird individual parts coalesce to make a unified songwriting machine. Two of the album's best tracks, opener "The Secret Life" and "Oh, Deadly Nightshade!" show off smart songcraft and a groove-based group-mind: The former takes distinctive passages that flow breezily-- even though clanky drums rumble underneath-- only to lock in for unison group-vocal barking. And the circular and trancey "Oh, Deadly Nightshade!"-- probably the most musically refined track-- flips from pizzicato strings to staccato bowing to "Skip to My Lou" ho-downs as vocal styles and phrasings simultaneously keep morphing.

For a debut with such a fully realized and individual presence, something tells me these ladies are going to continue to burrow as wide as this earnest, impressive debut hits deep. The only real complaint, and this should easily be rectified as they keep rocking together, is that a few songs do suffer from awkward vocal phrasings ("The Sea is Alive in Me") and a sometimes sloppy off-kilterness ("The Cycle Song"). But delicate and deliberate tunes like the fully a cappella "Day After Day" and, once again, the self-titled track, hint at future magical possibilities.