The New York City (by way of Berlin) trio Fenster makes wobbly, echoey outré pop music that hums with theremin (or is it a saw?), pulses with muted toms, and shimmers with occasionally heavenly vocals and chiming triangles. Bones, the group's debut, is a haunting and beautiful affair, the kind of setting where it makes sense to feature inscrutable lyrics about death and the afterlife, a plucked banjo, a slammed door, or a wall of reverb hugging a shy guitar squall. “White to Red” has a fantastic, plucky little guitar line and a faintly Velvets feel in the spoken lyrics and spare, repetitive arrangement. A sound resembling a muted car alarm whooping in the background lends a wonderfully unique rhythm. Bones is rich with surprises and charm: the arresting “Spring Break” hints at the ‘60s pop tones to come on “Killer Surf Walker”; the twilight magic of “Fantasy II” is sparkling fresh and mesmerizing. Other tunes—like “Oh Canyon” and “Fisherman”—are layered with delights like megaphoned vocals atop foot-stomping tambourines and toms big enough to register on the Richter scale. Boy/girl singers and a wild range of atmospherics color Bones in surprisingly rich hues.