Los Thuthanaka basically came out of nowhere last year to capture Pitchfork’s album of the year with their self-titled debut. Because it wasn’t available on streaming, it largely flew under the radar. I honestly kind of forgot about it until Pitchfork gave it the number one spot in its year-end list. In retrospect, I’m not entirely sure how, though. Los Thuthanaka sounds like nothing else. It’s joyous, jagged, and sounds like it’s being blasted out of a broken Bluetooth speaker in your neighbor’s backyard — it’s glorious.

The follow-up EP Wak’a turns down the tempo and smooths some of the sharper edges. It uses the same sound palette of blown-out speakers and sampled traditional Bolivian instruments that’s equal parts pluderphonics and psychedelic rock. But Wak’a is just as indebted to shoegaze. Its chord progressions and melodies are more wistful, the guitars drenched in fuzz and reverb. There are horns and keys that peek through the mix like half-forgotten memories of other songs.

Siblings Chuquimamani-Condori and Joshua Chuquimia Crampton deliver an aural interpretation of the Aymara creation legend of the first sunrise over the course of three songs, lasting just 18 and a half minutes. If you buy Wak’a on Bandcamp, the download includes a PDF created in collaboration with Ch’ama Native Americas that tells the story in the Aymara language.

Fittingly, the EP feels like a world emerging from darkness. The opening track “Quta (capo-kullawada)” starts with a low synth drone and chirping crickets before an Eno-esque guitar melody and loping distorted drum line kick in. “Wara Wara (capo-kullawada)” is beautiful, but also terrifying. The wall of sound is oppressive and startling in the way you might expect the first burning rays of sunlight would be to people who had existed in perpetual night beforehand. It eventually reaches the sort of cathartic apex that many musicians spend their whole careers chasing as horns, keyboards, growling vocals, and asymmetrical guitars all collide in a chaotic inferno.

By comparison, “Ay Kawkinpachasa? (capo-kullawada)” is a soothing comedown, despite its undeniably dense arrangement where individual instruments are increasingly difficult to pick out. There are what sound like accordion, fiddle, and keys all fighting for the same sonic real estate, and stuttering guitars eventually take over just in time for the EP to end.

For those who found the group’s self-titled record a touch too abrasive, this EP offers a more approachable introduction to their unique sound. Los Thuthunaka’s Wak’a is available now on Bandcamp.