It‘s not difficult to deduce what fuels Psyche Origami‘s latest: the Atlanta MC/double-DJ indie combo‘s sophomore full-length loosely centers on filling-station imagery. If the framework was explicitly extrapolated, oil could offer a vehicle for viciously, viscously pointed observations. Except, using a car metaphor, this ride‘s almost too glossy. Cerebral but without cortical crags, the knotty-yet-noddin‘ verses hug Native Tongues-meets-Main Source-style buoyant funk almost too harmoniously, blending and breezing by. Psyche Origami is definitely heading towards something, when they could be more aggressively driving at it.