For almost two decades now, Daniel Tyler and Conrad McConnell have been pumping out viscous disco and house from the underground's rich reserves. Like Faze Action, Mungolian Jetset, and almost everyone on the Paper Recording roster, Idjut Boys' truffle-worthy radar taps into the fossil fuel rich legacy of vaunted haunts like Paradise Garage and David Mancuso's the Loft–notorious for their snob-proof anything-goes playlists, also a long-running hallmark of Idjut Boys' DJ sets. One of their previous outings (as Meanderthals) was a collaboration with Rune Lindbaek, himself no stranger to disco's darker waters, that continued along familiar coked-up lines, but also hinted at a hankering for brighter days. So you are correct to expect another after-hours soundtrack from Tyler and McConnell, but you'd also be mistaken thinking that's all they have to offer. On their latest album, Cellar Door, Idjut Boys open their murky underground lair to a bit of radiant light and the effect is dazzling. Rather than wash out the shadowy mystery that is their stock in trade, the fresh air breathes new life into their discography. There are still plenty of gooey grooves rambling about, but they are paired with windswept vocals and romantic guitar plucks. The opener “Rabass” sounds like it's going to break into a Classic Rock ballad and might have you reaching for your lighter (or smartphone, these days); “Shine” is the kind of Kate Bush-kissed disco-soft rock most pop tarts have reached for and failed to grasp; and “One for Kenny” (dedicated to late, beloved Kenny Hawkes featuring the bass player from Grace Jones' band), sounds like something that would be right at home on a Crazy Penis album–a mellow and snappy interlude of slow hand claps and lazy Italo-house piano loops. “Going Down” goes all out for the California beach radio vibe; “Love Hunter” is probably the closest to their trademark sound, full of thick bass that slides up and around stretched out synths; it fades smoothly into “Le Wasuk” a loose, dubby joint that breaks down in to a serenade of light reggae rhythms, tinkering piano and churchy organ flourishes. By the time Cellar Door closes with a short bit of melancholy guitar noodling, you feel like you've been down in your best friend's basement having so much fun jamming on dusty gear that you've lost track of time and the sun has come up. And, as any dancefloor veteran can attest, twilight is when the magic happens.