Naming yourself Extrapedestrian just begs for smart-mouth critics such as myself to throw the tag back in your face.

That is, unless what you’re doing is so strange and off the wall that no one could possibly make the connection.

Or unless “extra” is being used in the classicist Latin sense: meaning that it has progressed beyond the typical, never to return.

This DVD-R, replete with QR-code business cards, begs the latter comparison. Mr. Pedestrian is a true bedroom rat, one who’s already released several unjustly ignored compositions—a whole series of them, really, all completely improvised in real time and named after the day on which they were unleashed (“101010,” “111111”).

This latest salvo feels like his real coming out, however, one which focuses his post-emo proggishness just enough to get the individual elements across. He’s a one-man mix of At the Drive-In and Dismemberment Plan, highly enigmatic and apt to switch moods on a dime, and he does both through these mostly sprawling 11 tracks.

“Cross your fingers, cross your hearts,” he warbles over an ominous piano figure in the intro, “and call your ceremonies art.”

Then he’s off: “Lights in the Sky” weaves a vaguely Middle Eastern guitar figure over an off-kilter beat, then abruptly shifts into a nervous meditation (“Lately I’ve been trying to leave town”) that builds up tension for so long that it’s nearly maddening—before naturally refusing to resolve it. That’s the kind of project this is; it feigns respect for the rules of pop just long enough to suck you in, then abandons you in a fascinating post-punk landscape with no ride home.

Approach this one with open mind and brave ears, and it might even redefine how you feel about concepts like “songs.”

Or you might find it, to quote another song title from Tomorrow Is a Gift, “Too Much of Everything, Not Enough of Anything.”

Hey, it’s his bedroom.