San Francisco's Lemonade make wildly eclectic, impossibly bright party music. On their self-titled debut, there are strands of classic early '90s rave, tropical, kraut-y drone and even traditional Indian ragas. It's a messy mish-mash on paper, but on record, it's a dazzling run of distinct grooves, dripping with sunshine. Throughout the album, there are scattered vocals — moanings, mostly — but the heart of Lemonade is in the beat: a steady throb that is surrounded by a whistling, truly odd cavalcade of sounds. Perhaps the best track on Lemonade is the album opener, "Big Weekend" — a head-spinning, syncopated tropical twist the likes of which you've surely never heard.