The Swedish duo of Linus Eklöw and Christian Karlsson, aka Galantis, specialize in making familiar-sounding dance pop with heavily obscured singers. Independently, Eklöw co-wrote Icona Pop’s breakout “I Love It” and also works under the moniker Style of Eye; Karlsson is one-third of the dance pop act Miike Snow. They are both vets of scenes—deep house and pop—where vocal manipulation is a standard approach: a way to concoct peculiar emotional valences. Together, they gleeful scramble frequencies as if to stay ahead of codebreakers.

Their debut EP crumpled Britney Spears—who’s worked with Karlsson since “Toxic”—into a sigh and launched her into orbit. “Runaway (U & I),” the biggest hit off Galantis’ 2015 release Pharmacy, pitched English singer-songwriter Cathy Dennis low on the verses and Sweden’s Julia Karlsson (no relation) to a child’s range on the chorus. Pharmacy’s other big hit was the soul stomper “Peanut Butter Jelly,” in which they desiccated Dragonette frontwoman Martina Sorbara’s vocal, then pumped it full of hot air, the better to match its Steely Dan-indebted mix of privilege and menace: “Sleepless nights at the chateau/Visualize it/I’ll give you something to do.”

On The Aviary, Eklöw and Karlsson are still calling from the same playbooks. Now, though, the halting pings of tropical house largely supplant Pharmacy’s four-on-the-floor synths. It may be a necessary update, but sometimes it’s the frame for flimsy structures. The creeping “Hunter” is a lyrical mess: “Got them red eyes in the night,” sings London’s Hannah Wilson, dangerously close to patois, “like a panther, outta sight.” It’s not a total loss: at the end, Galantis chop up her vocal and toss it onto a scaling electro figure. English singer Leon Jean-Marie fronts “Hello,” a plea for romantic sanity. He goes big on the chorus—singing from his heels over massive piano decay—but the sentiment is immediately scrambled by trop-house patter. Galantis have him try on different pitches until he delivers the title like Kurt Cobain.

“Hello” shows how Galantis treat melancholy: like spilled ink that needs to be blotted. “Girls on Boys” begins with gospel piano, as Philadelphia-based EDM artist ROZES bears witness to a party’s aftermath. At the chorus, the duo switch course in a blink, as a clipped guitar and synth-trapped vocal chirps relive the festivities. These kinds of shifts should make more sense on the festival circuit, where Galantis (ever faithful to the Scandipop charge to entertain) are a hyperkinetic live draw. They succeed when they forsake tonal right angles for the emotional shifts inherent in their vocal production style. “Hey Alligator”—featuring songwriting heavyweight Bonnie McKee—transforms a standard power ballad (a plea for mercy to a “cold-blooded, hot-headed” lover) into something more inscrutable. McKee’s already performed the song in concert, replacing Galantis’ pensive synth pings with alt-rock arpeggiation. Though she’s in the same key on the record, her vocal is pitched downward, into a register at once more devastated and puckish.

This kind of theme—desire despite pain—is a pop evergreen, and Galantis do their best with it. Still, jubilation remains their surest mode. On “True Feeling,” they attempt to write an entire song around a kind gesture on a cold evening. The producers convert a steel-pan figure into a resolving phrase; Los Angeles songwriter Stephen Wrabel performs his ooos in a meditative state; the rise builds to a determined gallup.

With help from L.A.-based producer Hook N Sling, Galantis perform their sharpest wizardry on “Love on Me,” featuring X Factor alumna Laura White. White’s vocal is deployed in haphazard combos: high-pitched close harmonies on one verse, low- and high-pitched harmonies on another. Shot through with strings and steel-pan synth bubble, the effect is euphoric, if ruthless. That might be the norm now that they’ve established their festival bonafides (they jumped into the top 40 of DJ Mag’s poll last year, one spot ahead of Jack Ü) and, crucially, have a pop hit. Last year, they made their debut Hot 100 appearance with album closer “No Money,” a shrill anti-bullying anthem featuring Reece Bullimore, the pre-teen son of Beatbullyz’ Andrew Bullimore, who co-wrote the track. “You can call me what you wanna,” Reece sneers over a fast-moving trop-house riff, “I ain’t givin’ you a dollar.” His range is already high, but in Galantis’ hands, no one is safe. As usual, they pitch his chorus all the way to the premium suites.