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The production is crystal clear, with rumbling bass, percolating syncopation and lovely acoustic guitars in the bridge.

“Training Season,” her demand for a partner who already knows “how to love me right,” has tickling guitar syncopations and girl-group harmonies popping out of nowhere.

It includes “On Lamp,” an undulating, not-quite-ambient piece that threads a wandering, slow-motion melody through a stereo dialogue of acoustic guitars and subdued tom-tom syncopations, like a glimpse of a distant caravan.

They merge Frank Stella’s hard-edged syncopation with Southern California’s Finish Fetish movement, resulting in lustrous surfaces with an electric hum and smooth cast, like Everlasting Gobstoppers dipped in car paint.

And then there is the rush created by Wainaina’s language, which moves to its own syncopation.