It’s been said before, but it’s even more apt to compare Marnie Stern to Primus now as she unveils her self-titled third album. Primarily, both acts are known for their eccentricities and their technical skills. And, yes, if you slipped a bass in between Stern’s fingers and changed the lyrics to include mud and frogs, they’d be dead ringers for one another. But more than just being slightly off-center and really good at guitar, Stern shows an ability to create an album of absolute thrash and pure poetry that can go all out in almost every genre and yet contain itself to a simple collection of sounds.

At its most withdrawn, as it is in “The Things You Notice”, Stern’s voice isn’t so much a whisper as it is a gorgeous free-flow of pixie wailing to the sounds of an increasingly gnarly and rhythmic guitar. It’s a beautiful moment and feels like you’re communicating with some alien diva. “Cinco De Mayo”, though, should slam you back to Earth. With the guitar line building up in a classic The Who pattern, it creates a kind of sonic momentum, with the finger-tapping going as hard as the big echoes of drums crashing. However, neither are as powerful and full of spite as Stern’s angered vocals. Both go to highlight her musicianship at its finest: vocals and instrumentation know no bounds or limitations and fuse together in a sometimes gorgeous, sometimes thrash-tastic orgy of musical ecstasy.

Part of the appeal of acts like Stern and Primus is their dedication to innovating with the tools of their trade; “Gimme” is a masterpiece of just that. Awkwardly adorned in the bright pink coat of hyperactive pop music, Stern’s technique is at its finest, with her playing inspired and dominant as she tears through some crazy chops of the most excellent variety. Fans of meaningful lyrical content can also find just as much material to move them. “Risky Biz” sees Stern in the role of heartbroken woman. With her mighty axe swinging, she is strong in her resilience (“If you won’t let me in, I’ll have to give you up”) as she tears through deserts and shrieks like a banshee on the battlefield of love. With a slightly ‘80s tinge, “Building A Body” sees a robotic vixen call out time and again to her prey the haunting “Can you feel my hands clench” as a manic guitar backflips effortlessly between anguished playing and frenetic tapping.

Comparisons aside, Stern is clearly her own creature. With big, sweeping guitar playing packed tightly into the framework of four-minute songs, and with material ranging from the strangely resonant to the straight-up strange, she’s forged a path and a new LP that demand the attention of the listener. This album sinks its teeth in with solid instrumentation and an intense performance from Stern herself. If that’s weird, then fit us for a straitjacket posthaste.