Martin Dosh collects lost noises and worn-out notes. At heart he is a percussionist, using heavy rhythms to organize his collections into symphonies of digital sounds. Often composing alone, Dosh has full command of the keyboard, marimba and drums, and flits between them with a natural ease. He transforms rote beats into sounds that mimic the patter of acid raindrops on stone, the clatter of overturned trash cans, and the crinkling of rolling rubble that slows to an eerie, twitching finish. On many tracks, guest musicians and vocalists such as Andrew Bird supply half-sung words and phrases that mingle effortlessly with Dosh’s collection of sounds. As maestro of this orchestra of odds and ends, Dosh draws out one loopy melody and then another, conducting them along circuitous paths and around unexpected detours. The sharp smack of a snare fills in the off-beats, and Dosh smooths out this jerkiness with long lines sketched on a synth pad.