The name Toro y Moi, sort of translated to Bull and Me, is incredibly deceiving. The laid-back air that envelops Toro y Moi’s sound evokes images of soaring through a dense fog layering a city, or perhaps attending a classy jazz club in space. A bull is probably the very last thing that could possibly come to mind over the electric malaise explored on Toro y Moi’s latest release, Underneath the Pines.
It is the latest in an increasingly extensive catalog of chillwave, probably one of the most finicky genres ever crafted. Chillwave is a style that can range from tedious indifference to hazy beauty, unfortunately leaning more toward the former. Toro y Moi, however, has been one of the few champions of the genre, examining its most hidden nuances and expanding its sound to newfound territories. Underneath the Pines channels bleary electronics through an almost ’60s jazz style, fastening the space of chillwave to the trumpet of Miles Davis. Electronic pianos endlessly swirl around thumping disco bass tenuously supported by washy midnight drum beats.
The style has an infectious quality that seems to sway your ears back and forth, yet the loosened vibe wears thin easily. Five songs through the album, your focus wanes and you feel more and more as if the album is just background music. Although the sound is nearly perfect, there is nothing to be truly excited about. There aren’t really any distinguishing qualities between the tracks; it plays more like a DJ mix than an LP. On a solid album, a listener can develop individual connections to songs — as opposed to an overall feeling that can’t be specified or expanded upon. Of course, you can’t really call that a criticism, because some styles of music only aspire to soundtrack the back corners of your mind. Chillwave may not be an immediately exhilarating genre, but it certainly serves its purpose well. Underneath the Pines doesn’t offer an example of daring musicianship, but it is an incredibly fitting way to guide someone into sleep. And that isn’t a bad thing at all.
