The second album from this non-rapping member of the Oakland-based assemblage comes from a brand new father, and the permeation of that as a theme marks Pure Trash as sort of an Anticon Double Fantasy. In place of Lennon's placid middle age reflection (and Yoko's strains towards pop normalcy), we get Dosh's mushy breakbeats, frayed live drumming, effects pedal peal and plenty of Rhodes and piano twinkle. There are next to no vocals, but the music's purposefulness (with a little help from the song titles) clearly and effectively expresses the uncertainty and bittersweet optimism of new fatherhood.

From his work drumming with Minneapolis bands like Vicious Vicious, Lateduster and, most notably, Fog, to his own 2003 debut, Dosh has remained focused on beats and rhythms above all else. Continually called "junky", "trashcan" and "mushy" (by me, in the first paragraph), along with other garbage-related adjectives, both his live drumming and sample beats favor gritty stomp and rough-around-the-edges immediacy over clean digital low-end. This personal approach, too much of a calculated choice to be called amateurish, provides the same wide-eyed sense of wonder as do the Isan and generally Morr-like keyboard highs that sparkle over most of his compositions.

"Being pregnant and having a baby is not weird," someone (I'm assuming his wife, Erin) says at the top of the album, kicking off what turns out to be the most fulfilling track, "Simple Exercises". Her statement is a simple but oddly reassuring sentiment from the post-natal perspective, and Dosh's billowing waves of toasted beats and layered xylophone seem to confirm that optimism. "I Think I'm Getting Married" rewinds to the genesis of Dosh's new family life, the song's blue saxophone over heavy organ reflecting both the gain and loss of marriage.

On "Bye Rhodsy", the chunked and scattered guitar and placid titular piano initially bury the shoddily recorded drums, but the latter soon emerge. It's a recipe like that of Adam Pierce, whose Mice Parade (also a solo drummer-led project) maps similarly swirly terrain. There are also echoes of the possibly forgotten San Fran Darla acts Junior Varsity KM and Sweet Trip in the cheerful breakbeats and glistening synth drops of "Rock It to the Next Episode".

The album ends with a looped sample of a crying Naoise (Dosh's son and also the name of the disc's first single) played over a piano part that's slowly descending into a thick fog of reverb. It doesn't come across as a gripe about the annoyingness of perpetually bawling babies; rather, it's just Naoise making the only sounds he knows how to make -- a small-scale display of how his father makes his own music. That's poignant, I think.