It's fair to say, then, that Yoo Doo Right aren't lacking for contemporaries, but this fourth LP is the Montréal experimental rock group's most decisive action in this arena yet. True to their band name, which doubles as the title of an epic inner-space flight from Can's 1969 debut , Yoo Doo Right's allegiance is made clear from the outset. Fans of the propulsive, future-forward aesthetic that defined the most fruitfully freaky scenes of 1970s Germany will find a lot to love here on Build and Rest by the Shepherd's Light, but it's far from a derivative cruise.

Granted, the core duo of John Talbot (drums) and multi-instrumentalist Justin Cober – joined here by Jessica Moss on violin, alongside other guests – are just as fond of locking in on a repetitively propulsive drum pattern as a means for pursuing a mind-cleansing hypnosis as their legendary forebears, but the musty, rote manoeuvres of others who have travelled down this particular autobahn before are largely avoided.

In their place are elements of grandiosely doom-laden post-rock (not infrequently bringing to mind cult heroes of cinematic intensity, Godspeed You! Black Emperor, also from Montréal), judicious use of shoegaze haze, and lashings of minimalist drone work. There's more than enough here to leapfrog accusations of mimicry outright, even if the unpredictable style shifts ultimately keep Build and Rest by the Shepherd’s Light from reaching the potential of the album’s frequent and irresistible highs.

Yoo Doo Right have a formidable default setting, with unhurriedly evolving instrumental mini-epics like “Two Hoarders” and “Tortue” building from a sparse, barely-there hum to a thunderous widescreen sprawl, which, combined with Talbot’s pummelling but also nimble drum patterns, brings to mind a more bulked-up Jaki Liebezeit drumming for Explosions In The Sky. The album hits peak intensity with “Doldrums, Doldrums, Eviler Than The Devil”, which finds Cober sermonising about being a worrier in the style of a possessed, early-era Nick Cave, as the music builds into a teeth-grindingly fierce blast of subterranean post-punk.

Next to this, the more ambient-leaning selections can seem more meandering than they actually are if enjoyed out of context, although the hushed majesty of the closing title track – so slowburn that it almost winds up standing still – provides an uncharacteristically delicate highlight. For the most part, however, Yoo Doo Right do indeed do alright in their search for propulsive hypnosis.