Chaz Bundick spent 2011 enduring a barrage of subliminal criticism, but other than that, he had a pretty good year. It just wasn't one that gave him much incentive to get retrospective: Whenever his excellent sophomore LP Underneath the Pine and the subsequent Freaking Out EP were deemed "progressions," it felt like backhanded praise for the artistic distance he was creating from Causers of This, an album that's become weirdly underrated as its chillaxed aesthetic is seemingly blamed for everything from the death of indie rock to LeBron James' laissez-faire attitude in crunch time. So, at the very least, you have to admire the audacity of Bundick dipping into his personal stash for June 2009, a collection of singles written around the same time as Causers of This.
While they're not the proverbial naked baby pictures, June 2009 doesn't dispute the idea of Bundick as someone who ultimately profited from our collective deadbeat summer at the outset. You sense that Bundick had a clear idea of the kind of songs he wanted to write, but there's also the enormous strides he was yet to make as a producer, as an arranger, as a full-blown artist. It's not too hard to view the propulsive, clean melodic lines of "Dead Pontoon" (his strongest early single) as a preview for Underneath the Pine rid of that record's newfound Eurocentric influences. But early on, Bundick used his immediate surroundings as topical inspiration for mundane songs: vehicles, geographic proper names, "Girl Problems". Considering the self-consciousness that's crept into his artistic process, it's impossible to imagine him ever being in a mindset where he'd write something like "Ektelon", an incredibly literal recollection of a river tubing expedition.
As expected, Ariel Pink is namedropped as the major influence, but when Bundick fails to hit some hilariously amateur falsetto notes on "Best Around" or "Take the L to Leave", it's more reminiscent of Rivers Cuomo's strangely fearless Alone tapes-- this isn't the work of a visionary weirdo but rather a guy who sees benefits in the mere archival and procedural aspects of creation. The immediacy and economy of Bundick's songwriting extended to his recording at the time as well. The songs are very short and structurally unfussy, while production values are basically nil, relying on the kinds of tricks familiar to anyone fucking around with their first four-track: doubling vocals in octaves, letting the entire mix submerge under the bass, the R&B and pop of one's youth channeled through Casio presets.
With that in mind, June 2009 almost has to be chronologically sequenced in light of just how jarring "Sad Sams" turns out to be. Up to that point, it's mostly hummable, punchy guitar music with some bubble-funk affectations, pleasant if not particularly unique amongst the scores of lo-fi artists doing the same thing. The roller-rink pop of "Drive South" hints at Bundick starting to get a grasp for rhythm and texture but "Sad Sams" sounds like the first clean break-- the drum machines are still crudely recorded and might be overcompensating in terms of volume, but you can hear in the slick harmonies and wobbly arrangement that it's where Toro Y Moi really started to take shape. Immediately thereafter, "Talamak" offers a means of direct comparison: Both the "First Version" and the one that appeared on Causers of This were subject to Dilla-esque warping and tape degradation, but the latter showed evidence of Bundick's incredible progress as a sound crafter. The pops and hisses sounded very intentional and smartly deployed, whereas here, "Talamak" just sounds like it was dubbed to an old cassette.
Still, there's no getting around the fact that June 2009 acquires most of its value, if not all of it, in context with Causers of This and Underneath the Pine. But it allows you to think "big picture" not only about Bundick, but the role of production and atmosphere in general. The most common criticism of Toro Y Moi is that it's more "vibes" than "songs," which assumes a false binary. Don't get me wrong, I love me a raw and dead-sober Steve Albini production, but it would completely negate the effect of "Blessa", where Bundick's woozy, almost drunken ambience coincided with that song's bittersweet resignation-- you could easily envision someone in a humid South Carolina apartment, beer in hand, shirt untucked, at the end of a long day in the office. By the same token, I wouldn't want to hear a Toro Y Moi remix of a Bill Callahan song. The bustling anti-chillwave cottage industry could certainly look at June 2009 as a "gotcha" moment for Bundick-- as far as typical "songwriting" metrics go, it's pretty thin. But I say that's bullshit, and June 2009 in its own way makes an even better case for Toro Y Moi as a band that may have initially benefited from good timing, but also has the ambition and learning curve to keep improving on an already impressive catalog.
