IN THE FOOTHILLS of the Canadian Rockies, the city of Calgary sits unassumingly. Itโ€™s a bigger city than you might guess, with a population over a million strong, but in spite ofโ€”or perhaps because ofโ€”its isolation, the city is home to a small but wildly creative music scene. There, Chad VanGaalen, whose music runs the gamut from banjo folk to bitsynth mindfuckery, rubs shoulders with the boys from Women, a group equally adept at writing pop songs and noise freakouts. But itโ€™s the glitchy, ravishing music of Azeda Booth that stands out as the most individualistic within the Calgary scene.

The band began as a collaboration between Morgan Greenwood and Jordon Hossack. โ€œIt was just me and Jordon sitting up in my room until 5 am, recording crazy shit,โ€ says Greenwood. The band swelled to five, then six members, including a couple guys from the aforementioned Women, but following the completion of last yearโ€™s In Flesh Tones album, Azeda Booth slimmed down to a trioโ€”Greenwood, Hossack, and Marc Rimmerโ€”and have just embarked on the bandโ€™s first US tour.

โ€œWeโ€™ll deconstruct the songs and figure out how to play them live,โ€ says Rimmer. โ€œWeโ€™re using a lot of the same synth sounds now, and samples and stuff like that, so it sounds like it does live. Weโ€™ve learned more ways to appreciate what everyone else is doing.โ€

In Flesh Tones is one of those miraculous marriages of man and machine, where the organic meets the synthetic in dizzying fusion. Without getting too cockeyed about itโ€”and just bear with me for a moment hereโ€”itโ€™s the sounds of the first sprigs of life sprouting from an abandoned city-planet, a few millennia after the robot apocalypse. โ€œIn Redโ€ begins with the distant throb of a steel structure shifting in its resting place with a sound thatโ€™s both melodic and percussive; gentle guitars and bell-like synths circle around its foundation as Hossackโ€™s childlike falsetto cracks with humanity. The song comes to a lull, but Azeda Booth has a cinematic climax up its sleeve, and crashing drums and insect-like clicks chatter through its ascending chord progression. A million years seem to breathlessly pass in its five-and-a-half minutes.

โ€œWe all really like texturing something until it sounds full,โ€ says Hossack. โ€œBy whatever means it takes to achieve that, and we all just really like sweet sounds, soโ€ฆ.โ€

The band has just released a new EP, Tubtrek, which is now available as a free download on their website. Hossackโ€™s distinct falsetto is notably absent from the new tracks, a trademark that originated as a way for the young band to sound unique, but has already outgrown. โ€œI felt limited in the way I wanted to express myself,โ€ Hossack says of the change. โ€œI was limiting myself in a way, not allowing myself to convey a full range emotion from that range. [With Tubtrek] we wanted to take advantage of the fact that we were a three-piece again, and just start fresh with resources we have.โ€

Greenwood says, โ€œThe funny thing about that is, Jordon and I, this is still our first band and we still canโ€™t even jam. We donโ€™t even know notes. Watching us practice is like pulling… ass,โ€ he laughs. โ€œBut from the get-go we had this vision. We just want to write stuff. And thatโ€™s all we could do. Once we got one glimpse of that, it was like, โ€˜Okay!โ€™ and we still havenโ€™t turned back.โ€

Ned Lannamann is a writer and editor in Portland, Oregon. He writes about film, music, TV, books, travel, tech, food, drink, outdoors, and other things.