Alex Ebert, frontman of Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros, knows what you expect from him. And he knows that the slinky funk of I vs. I , his first solo album since 2011, isn’t it. But that expectations-be-damned approach is, frankly, what makes the 14-track collection such fun. Outside of Edward Sharpe’s sunshine-folk, Ebert’s already proven himself a malleable musician, with artpunk act Ima Robot, on meditative standalone singles like “Joy Is My Armor” and his brooding film scores. And on I vs. I , Ebert checks back in with his teenage muse: lo-fi hiphop. That said, this won’t land on Spotify’s Rap Caviar. Ebert creates beatscapes that are playful with a kitchen-sink aesthetic, bolstered by funky, live bass, gorgeous saxophones, gauzy, low-lit synths, echoing horns and myriad snapping, clapping and whistling. These songs sound glued together and dusted with glitter. Ebert’s vocals dance between funk-lite falsetto, psychedelic-folk meanderings and, yes, actual rapping. His lyrics veer far from Edward Sharpe’s unbridled positivity: Ebert contemplates suicide, sings about sex with unusual candor and explains death to his daughter. As a case study of an artist following his truth, I vs. I is a success. Ebert’s freak flag is flying high here—maybe higher than ever. And that’s saying something; the man’s day job is leading a folk collective. As a musical experience, the song quality is mixed—but there are more hits than misses. And the trip-hop anthem “Her Love,” muted funk of “Jealous Guy” and woozy pop of “Stronger” are worth the price of admission alone.