Supergroups are a dicey, but popular proposition in music. The idea that members of various bands can assemble like Voltron and combine their powers for the next great chapter in recorded history is a seductive one. Instead, too often it comes out as Damn Yankees. But time and proximity is a powerful thing and everyone likes the change of pace. Such is the setting for PyPy, or π π if you’re mathy. The group, assembled from members of Montreal’s Duchess Says, CPC Gangbangs, and Red Mass, has released its debut album, Pagan Day (Slovenly Recordings).

For most groups of this ilk, there’s a common thread linking them, so that while the paring may not be the most obvious thing, there’s a type of logic that can be found. In PyPy, that doesn’t seem to be the case. The band is comprised of vocalist Annie-Claude Deschênes backed by guitarist/vocalist Choyce (a.k.a. Roy Vucino) and the Duchess Says rhythm section of bassist Philippe Clément and drummer Simon Besre. Duchess Says is synth-pop leaning, while some of the other projects dabble in the garage rock and, curiously, noise rock worlds. As such, it’s the type of thing that could go any way, and on Pagan Day, it largely does. The record seems to go in at least seven directions at the same time. The transitions lurch and make awkward three-point turns. If the cliché is that a band can stop on a dime, then PyPy is the rolling stop of bands.

One of the biggest surprises comes from Deschênes. The famously spirited singer is in a relatively chilled out mode. While she still brings energy to the proceedings, she lets the boys in the band do much of the heavy freakout lifting. But even her approach is greatly varied, from yips and squeals to a Patti Smith crossed with Yoko Ono type of thing and even shades of Kathleen Hanna. It would be easy to be overwhelmed in this band, but Deschênes plays her position perfectly.

Anchored broadly as danceable garage punk, the songs rarely stand still long enough to gain residency in any neighborhood. Generally, whenever a song seems to lock into a groove, it wanders off on another tangent. It should be infuriating, but instead it’s so gleefully unhinged and seemingly filled with cognitive dissonance that it’s easy to just relax and go with every twist and turn. From the seemingly post-punk antics of “Daffodils” to the rough and tumble Ian Svenonius–esque “Too Much Cocaine,” there’s a lot going on. Mainly it hinges on Vucino’s guitar, which is the 800-pound gorilla that pushes things along. Just when you think things are going one way, the song is hijacked in another direction all together. If nothing else, Pagan Day isn’t a passive listen. And taken as breathless whole, it’s definitely a trip worth taking.