The third album from Rochester’s Ocupanther begins unassumingly enough: A synth drone line-drives across a thumping bass walk, and a hi-hat tick-tocks a toe-tapping rhythm. And “Obtuse Snoot” goes on like this for a little while, introducing a simple snare beat before exploding in danceable ecstasy.

The main melody throughout Data Stretching’s opening cut is simple major-key leap, but the band makes it stand out by keenly alternating between the dance breaks and that drone from the intro. The juxtaposition gets heady pretty quick, and that’s a thematic constant throughout the album. Bassist Jason Gilly holds things down throughout with woozy aplomb.

You’ll find that the way the band compounds its sound through that opening song becomes a sort of motif as the albums progresses. They’re an instrumental outfit, so the message here comes via composition, rather than lyrics. It’s an ancient and hypnotic message — one they’ve massage nicely since 2013’s Progressor.

Gilly’s bass in “III E III” literally oozes liquidly. Mikey Pantano and Collin Jones duel with their guitars on “Yerkrewrun,” a spacey tune that features Middle Eastern melodies and distinct sensory intimations of a desert setting.

And whether holding down a central rhythm or going off the deep end with the other guys, drummer Matthew Blauvelt demonstrates a keen ability to match mood with beat. The way he leads the strings on “Yerkrewrun” higher and higher until crashing into gentle staccato about two-thirds through the song is a prime example of what he can do.

The desert metaphor probably works even better than first anticipated, simply because Ocupanther covers so much sonic ground in just eight songs. “Yerkrewrun” dovetails into “The Great Oxygenation,” which lands on firmer footing and calls to mind post-rock titans from the late 1990s (Tortoise’s “The Suspension Bridge at Iguazu Falls” bears similar DNA, both melodically and exotically). Each song, ranging from five to 12 minutes or so in length, features at least several distinct movements, which reveals the band’s dedication in writing and forethought for improvisation entry points onstage.

What Ocupanther does best on this album is make everything danceable. Despite its esoteric nature, this is a fun album that most jam fans can get into. Pantano can shred, yes, but his guitar works so well as a world-builder in much of this album. “Splitchix,” the album’s closer, is a good spot to find all of the above working in tandem. Bookended by highly mobile melodies that sort of recall the main line from “Obtuse Snoot,” this song revives the cloudlike atmosphere of the album one last time through formless sound and sonic accents. The whole thing is a trip, really — a trip through the eyes of a curious and exploratory young band.