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| Pitchfork |
 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 can 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 (or re-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 on 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 whereas "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 his synth-pop roots in favor of a vastly broadened instrumental palette that encompasses 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....full text |
| Prettymuchamazing |
| Relax. Draw yourself a nice, hot bath. Throw in some of those fancy bath bombs if you like and let the chillwave majesty of Toro y Moi soothe you into a gentle slumber. That’s at least what Chazwick Bundick, the man behind the moniker, seems to be attempting as he sends opening track “Intro Chi Chi” snaking all around you. Muted basslines and floating afrobeats make the track seem as if it could transform into an Air record at any moment – and it’s at this point that Mr. Bundick throws his curveball, sidestepping the sound he became so famous for with 2010’s Causers of This. Since finding fame as one of the purveyors of chillwave, Chaz has notably tried to steer clear of a repeat on his success. Perhaps in an effort to not bore his audience but also not bore himself, the multi-instrumentalist releases his second studio album to an entirely different beat. 70s disco, to name just one new influence....full text |
| Santmagazine |
| South Carolina chillwave hipster Toro Y Moi, a.k.a. Chaz Bundick, is an unabashed evocator of early-'80s soul-pop, that particular slice of music that eschews clinical polish in favor of lo-fi grease n' fuzz and laconic beats highly suggestive of softcore porn. Bundick's music, especially the sun-drenched funk of his sophomore effort, Underneath the Pine, is a pitch-perfect conjuration of the post-disco era, and therein lies the double-edged sword of its charm, straddling—and often wandering astray of—the line between being intuitively retro and predictably derivative. For the most part, Bundick prevents Underneath the Pine from tripping too far into the netherworld of aimless glo-fi haze, but at the same time, he rarely elevates it beyond the trappings of its blog-driven genre. In other words, Underneath the Pine is exactly the kind of record that an emerging artist like Bundick would hope to avoid: a completely forgettable one. The problem isn't so much Bundick's style (dreamy, lazy, somewhat distracted, always patient in pace), but his strict adherence to it, particularly the overuse of the same cloudy organ lines, drum breaks, and climb-up, climb-down vocal crooning that makes the album sound like one all-nighter bedroom jam session. Formless melodies bleed into one another, and tracks come and go without much effort or care in announcing their arrival or departure. Some would argue that much of Bundick's appeal is his pensive, preoccupied mood, but as fellow chillwave artist and frequent Toro Y Moi collaborator Ernest Greene proves, you can still be a musing, introspective poet and hold listeners' ears rapt for more than a song or two. Unfortunately, listening to tracks like "Still Sound," "How I Know," "Go with You," and "New Beat" in succession goes a long way in confirming the suspicion that Bundick simply doesn't have much to work with in his bag of tricks. All are writhing, myopic pieces prone to sounding, at best, aloof and, at worst, befuddled and mindless, with little in the way of an identity behind the winking retrograde sound cues. Despite the oversaturated warmth of Beneath the Pine's production, this is a cold record, an archetype of technical mastery and genre-worship prevailing over the artistry of an individual voice. As a result, Bundick often sounds not like one artist, but the amalgamation of a whole movement's worth of ideas and styles, borrowed and rearranged into a faceless, forgettable whole....full text |
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