If you’re allergic to major keys, beware of Palomar III, as songwriter Rachel Warren’s sunny tunes will have you breaking out in itchy red hives. What sounds suspiciously like 80-part vocal harmonies (on songs like “Albacore”) will send you into anaphylactic shock. And it wouldn’t hurt to take a histamine blocker before exposing yourself to any one of this record’s bouncy, sharply-executed bass lines. Palomar hails from Brooklyn, but the three-fourths-female band scraps the attitude-laden “New York sound” we’ve recently come to expect (and eventually, if not at first, love). Instead, it cranks out brisk, playful pop that’ll please fans of The New Pornographers and Dressy Bessy. (The latter shared a label with Palomar for a few short months ’til Kindercore Records folded last November.) Expect a bit of sauciness in the band’s sound—a slightly crunchy guitar here, a sharp-tongued lyric there (“Most songs are thrown up, spit out / Just on the streets / Everyone does this and nobody cares”). But for the most part, Palomar III is just the album to huddle around for warmth as we prepare to enter those chilly winter months.