If you listen with a cynical ear, it would be easy to dismiss Caveman as just another Brooklyn based indie band playing mid-tempo jangly guitar rock with some keyboards thrown in for good measure. But among the throngs of indie-rock/psych-folk groups that found their genesis in the wake of Grizzly Bear’s success, Caveman stands a full head taller, and they were the only one I featured on my end-of-the-year list last year.

First, there’s the song craft. Eschewing the typical verse-chorus-bridge structure, the band isn’t afraid to skip a refrain, replacing it instead with an instrumental or with wordless vocalizations. Likewise, there are songs where the only vocal section that exists is a chorus that is only sung once, embedded in what is otherwise an instrumental track.

Second, there’s the way those songs are played. While the band employs a typical lineup of rhythm guitar, lead guitar, keyboard, bass, and drums, they manner in which they play those instruments keeps the record sounding fresh. Instead of always riffing alongside the rhythm guitar, the lead guitarist will often utilize only the sounds coming out of his effects pedals (see: Easy Water, where he plays only the oscillating feedback of an analog delay). Likewise, the keyboardist usually drones over the chord changes instead of following them chord-for-chord. Then, there’s the drums. My word, the drums. If there were no other reason for the group to be called Caveman, it would be for the drummer. Instead of the cymbals, he keeps time on the toms, pounding away with a tribal furor that takes the record from the mountain of albums released by Brooklyn indie bands and into the annals of year-end lists and repeated listens. Despite its repeat-begging brevity (its ten tracks are finished in 36 minutes), I have a feeling that as the years wear on, CoCo Beware will never be too far from my turntable.