Cooper Crain once crystallized the Bitchin Bajas ethos with a simple question: “If you find a good loop that can hold its own musically, then why not use it?” That philosophy has served his group well for going on seven years, and has recently proven just as effective in collaboration. Through work with Bonnie “Prince” Billy, Natural Information Society, Olivia Wyatt, and Haley Fohr’s Jackie Lynn, Bitchin Bajas expanded their sound and prodded their partners to do the same. Credit the trio’s knack for finding good loops and knowing how to use them.
In particular, Bitchin Bajas know how to use a good loop for a long time. It’s easy enough to let a cycle grind away forever, hoping that repetition alone will entrance listeners. It’s also tempting to get too proactive and force sonic variety from a loop, as a pre-emptive stab at fending off boredom. Bitchin Bajas excel at finding midpoints between those default poles. They trust their loops to grow naturally but can also shift textures and vary moods to avoid predictability.
That’s why Bitchin Bajas’ music sounds best in extended durations. Their last full-length album, 2014’s self-titled two-disc set, stretched eight pieces across 77 minutes. The trio paid pretty obvious homage to their minimalist heroes—Terry Riley in particular—but lived up to that inspiration by carving their own way through familiar-sounding synth cycles and drones. On their follow-up, Bajas Fresh, Bitchin Bajas continue in long-form mode, filling 80 minutes with just seven tracks—including their longest to date, the 23-minute and 3-second “2303.” But this one is less about homage than exploration. Though no track is a radical departure, Bajas Fresh is the group’s most diverse and ambitious record so far.
Part of that diversity comes from wider instrumentation. Five guests are credited on Bajas Fresh—including veteran Ghost guitarist Masaki Batoh—and each track has its own distinct tone and atmosphere. Perhaps this expanding sonic horizon is a byproduct of recent collaborations, but Crain, Rob Frye, and Daniel Quinlivan have also widened their field of vision naturally over their discography. The more music they’ve made together, the more comfortable they’ve gotten with introducing new elements into their sturdy approach.
The best example might be the one song on Bajas Fresh that the trio didn’t write themselves. Their cover of “Angels and Demons at Play,” the title track from a Sun Ra album, takes the original’s bubbling rhythm and massages it into a meditation, turning Marshall Allen’s soaring flute into a slo-mo flutter. This transformation from jazz swing to minimalist loop is remarkably smooth, and that kind of easy confidence permeates all of Bitchin Bajas. It’s in all the rotations of “Jammu,” the field-recording-like rattling of “Yonaguni,” and the calm horn sounds of “Chokayo.” Even during “2303,” the record’s longest and most drone-heavy track, the band’s assuredness keeps everything in constant motion.
For a long record full of long songs, Bajas Fresh has a remarkably distinct flow. The group balances tension and relaxation with the timing of a master storyteller. It’s a talent Bitchin Bajas has shown on previous records, but here they’ve perfected it, instilling direction and purpose into what could easily be aimlessly pleasant music. “It’s not abstract sound at all,” Crain explained when chatting with Haley Fohr in 2015. “I would hope if our music was ever portrayed as a painting of what we heard, it would be a beautiful picture, not an abstract or messy image.” Crain’s hopes are realized on Bajas Fresh, an album worth hanging on your wall and staring at for a long time.
