By all accounts Victor Scott shouldn’t be aspiring to what he aspires to — rhythmless porn-funk on “Gotta Go,” hybrid-power balladeering on “Mareel,” couch-surfer-rock on “Golf,” lounge-hop on “Airstream” — but he does. And it works very well. Fans of the eminent Honky King Calvin Johnson will see in Scott the same irresistibly affectless soul. Fans of Quentin Tarantino and David Lynch soundtracks will see in Scott a torch singer who croons charming oddities as if they were ageless standards. Victor’s a different chap, that’s for sure, but once you catch on to his wavelength, you’ll want to ride his current all the way to the shore.