Part of the Hometapes family since 2003, The Caribbean has built an invisible neighborhood of words, images, and pop-dismantling sounds: William of Orange, Plastic Explosives, Populations, and Discontinued Perfume soundtrack an entire decade for the Washington, DC-based trio. Enter new album Moon Sickness: a set of songs with many of the recognizable characteristics of previous Caribbean albums — Kentoff’s literary and darkly dreamlike lyrics, the band’s advanced and eccentric compositional sensibility, and the curious, electronically treated surreal found-sounds draped around the songs. There's a newfound and bright light shining on Moon Sickness, but as biographer Chad Clark writes, "The Caribbean are still arcane, introspective weirdo geniuses with a taste for the surreal and a basically melancholic disposition. I mean, come on, they titled it 'Moon Sickness.’ It’s not a party record. You’d be wise not to expect straightforward, jubilant singalong choruses or ordinary chord progressions. But within the band’s canon — a body of work I love profoundly — this is certainly the most congenial entry yet."