Though they seem like the human equivalent of puppies, nerds are not always lovable. In fact, under the clunky glasses, they can be a bundle of seething rage and hateful desperation. The Toronto twosome Woodhands tap in to that inner sanctum, battering listeners’ brain cells with a keytar and a drum kit. They turn the dirtiest secrets of geek life into wild-humored electro-rock aggression, and they definitely know what they’re singing about—they probably started writing songs because their cable cut out halfway through Battlestar Galactica. The synthesized grunts and squeals of “Sailboats” sound like R2-D2 having angry make-up sex with a couple of lesbian Ewoks. “Dancer” has boy-girl vocals and agitated beats—when they bellow their dumb nightclub pickup lines (“You’re a very good dancer! What is your name?”), they seem fully aware it’s going to be a long drive home alone.

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