The Golden Republic

Mixing two pre-existing products in an innovative way qualifies as inventive, regardless of how often they have been used in other combinations and contexts. When Reese’s earned kudos (not the granola kind) for mixing peanut butter and chocolate, it didn’t matter that peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwiches already existed or that George Washington Carver had paved the alternately creamy and chunky path.

In recent musical history, bands have revived ’80s-era keyboards, ’70s-style glam rock and ’60s psychedelic garage, but few have attempted all at once. Kansas City’s Golden Republic retains the essential ingredients of each period — an arcadelike flurry of bleeps, a percussive pulse that occasionally slides into a discofied drumbeat, fuzzy feedback, cooing choruses — while swirling them into an unrecognizable form. Listeners might not instantly identify the dish, but they’ll taste familiar flavors.

People starts with a swaggering stomp and ends with an ethereal acoustic number. Though they share little in terms of mood or pace, these catchy tunes both highlight harmonic backing vocals. The Golden Republic establishes its distinct voice in these common threads between its stylistic experiments and the way it reinforces its melodies with the illusion of choral magnitude, keeping its riffs sharp and succinct.