There are certain bands whose audience seems to be comprised of more musicians than laypeople. I have largely escaped the hype on Black Pumas, but I can’t ignore that just about everyone I’ve seen talk about them plays an instrument. So when I found a copy of Chronicles of a Diamond for $2 at a closeout store, it was an easy gamble.

Often, when a band’s listeners skews so heavily toward players, I expect to hear plenty of virtuoso wankery and technical chops that are impressive but often at the expense of songwriting. Songs become excuses to show off their tricks. It has its place, but it’s a place where I don’t spend much listening time. And so when I put on Chronicles of a Diamond, I was surprised at just how listenable it was.

Surely, these are great players, but there is a subtlety here that most virtuosos blow right past—especially in an ensemble. As impressive as each performance is, it’s clear that each member is listening to the others first and playing second. Musicians talk a lot about staying in their pocket, but this might be the one of the better examples I’ve heard lately.

This soft hand allows each track to breathe, blooming into gorgeous arrangements that join the passion and smoothness of classic soul and R&B with the fearless imagination of psychedelic. The end result is a timeless sound that could have found a place on the pop charts any time in the last forty years.