As Charles Bronson used to say, if you want something done right, do it yourself. Quite a few musicians are taking these words to heart, composing records, indeed entire repertoires, all by their lonesome; the increasing sophistication of recording software, coupled with the now-ubiquitous DIY aesthetic being taken to its technical limits, has resulted in a level of autonomy unprecedented in popular music. This is not to say that songs composed by one person are inherently better or more interesting than those created via a collaborative method, simply that technology has made the traditional rock setup a more viable option for individuals.

Case in point: Dungen, the brainchild of Swedish wunderkind Gustav Ejstes. On record, Dungen distills the essences of 60s acid rock, jazz fusion, and lilting Swedish folk into an expansive, distinctly isolationist form of progressive retro-rock--it's the kind of flashing-neon-wallpaper music you'd pop in on a particularly damaged Sunday morning. The band's international breakthrough, Ta Det Lungt ("Take It Easy"), was recorded mostly by Ejstes himself. Ejstes' compositional process is apparent in his new record's title: Tio Bitar translates roughly as "Ten Pieces" or "Ten Works," emphasizing the songs' identities as formal compositions rather than derivations of practice-space jamming. The method is not without its limits - the liner notes to Tio Bitar list nine "contributory" musicians who helped flesh out the arrangements. Perhaps the most prominent of these contributors is guitarist Reine Fiske, who plays his acid-fried leads through a fuzzbox that makes his guitar sound like a blender motor. But the most impressive element is the drumming: Ejstes' background in hip-hop production (!) points up to the emphasis on beats, and his jazzy shuffles, wipeout fills, and constantly shifting rhythms, never fail to impress. (Johan Holmegard and Dungen's live drummer Fredrik Björling also contributed percussion on a few tracks.)

Previous Dungen albums have sounded like five or six different records fighting in a paper bag, and Tio Bitar is no different; fleet-fingered acoustic picking rubs shoulders with acid-jazz freakouts, creaky old pianos, trip-hop beats, and Fiske's endless guitar solos. Despite an audible budget increase from his previous full-length, Tio Bitar retains the slightly muffled, hissy quality of garage recordings from the 60s--strange, considering both projects were recorded on a computer. Ejstes' process lends itself to any number of idiosyncratic choices: the out-of-nowhere fiddle solo on "Familj," the trippy, muffled breakbeats and raga-esque 12-string guitars on "Sa Blev Det Bestamt," all that damn Swedish. "Ett Skal Att Trivas" begins with a plodding Sabbath riff before blossoming into a full-harmony 5th Dimension cover, and, strange as it sounds, closer "En Gang I Ar Kom Det En Tar"'s melancholy woodwind arrangement bears more than a passing resemblance to Slayer's immortal intro to "Season In The Abyss." The overlong, soundtrack-y instrumental "C Visar Vagen" is the only real misstep.

Tio Bitar may lack an obvious pop single like Ta Det Lugt's "Panda," but, considering the flood of symphonic psych-rock meandering that filled out that album, the song had the air of a tacked-on business decision (hey, it got them on Conan). "Mon Amour," the new album's corresponding pop number, comes buried at track five and features a 4-minute buzz-bomb guitar freakout in place of a third verse. Compared to Ta Det Lugt's occasionally self-conscious progginess, Tio Bitar's stylistic melange feels more organic and lived in; without an obvious point of entry, the album sort of unravels at its own pace, revealing only what's necessary at any given point. Ejstes may still be running his own show, but this time around he's found a way to close the curtain on time.