When Chaz Bundick sang, "I found a job I do it fine/ Not what I want but still I try," on "Blessa", it became Causers of This' most-quoted lyric for obvious reasons. Not only can all of us relate to that sentiment at some point in our lives, but it also drew a direct line between the escapism of home-made electro-pop and the lives of most of the people creating it. Talk about Hipstamatic prints, Ariel Pink, and surfing all you want, but y'know, it's also the economy, stupid. Now, I've never shared a cubicle with Bundick, but that kind of resignation is completely at odds with his work ethic as Toro Y Moi, given the steady stream of remixes and side projects he's released in the time since. Just over a year later, he's already the first of the A-listers from this scene to release a follow-up. But if he was feeling any pressure to validate himself and his peers, Underneath the Pine doesn't show it. The album may be too lyrically opaque to have a line as bloggable as "Blessa"'s, but it's a far richer and more accomplished whole, and it makes a strong case for Bundick as an artist with scope, ambition, and a firm grasp of how to balance the two.
Underneath the Pine begins a little like the last album, with a wobbly, splayed-out chord backing Bundick's cooed vocal salutation. But where "Blessa"'s murky, aquamarine production set the tone for most of Causers, this album's "Intro/Chi Chi" is a textured instrumental that trigger memories of Air's "La Femme D'Argent" and underscores one of Bundick's most overlooked assets: his ability to create an appealingly lush ambiance. That mood plays a central role in Underneath the Pine, as much of the album sheds Bunwick's synth-pop roots in favor of a vastly expanded instrumental palette that includes organ, pianos, chimes, and plenty of live drumming. Bundick's skill as an arranger is especially evident in Pine's midsection: though casually paced and humid as his native South Carolina, it pulls from the French pop and krautrock obsessions of Broadcast and Stereolab, imbuing pastoral, acoustic plucks and synth drones with rhythmic purpose, and making retro chic somehow still sound futuristic.
All of this sonic exploration is in service to Bundick's growth as a songwriter. Big choruses like the one on "How I Know" come unexpectedly during what at first appear to be endless motorik grooves, as plainspoken vocal melodies give way to double-helix harmonies. Even the tracks that keep a lower profile maintain enough ballast to prevent the zone-outs that pockmarked Causers. They also serve to set off the big singles, "New Beat" and "Still Sound". Heard individually, those songs' straight-up funk delivery mostly sounded like twists on a successful formula, but in context on Underneath the Pine, they underscore how Bundick's knack for analog warmth always comes in the name of physicality and groove. You may want to try and peg where the drum sounds come from-- maybe Innervisions, maybe even Midnite Vultures-- but rhythmic interplay this addictive has to be felt, not simply conjured from memory.
Because Toro Y Moi is so closely linked with the likes of Neon Indian, Washed Out, and Memory Tapes, it's tempting to read into the success of Underneath the Pine as some predictor of those bands' collective staying power, or a direction others might take. But Bundick seems to be following nothing but his own internal compass. Late in the album, "Good Hold" comes off like an Eno tribute of detuned piano dissonance, and then morphs into the blissful glide of album closer, "Elise". It's a fitting send-off to Underneath the Pine, suggesting that Toro Y Moi's first great album probably won't be his last, or his best.
