Austinist Album Review - Max Tundra's Parallax Error Beheads You
Before falling open-armed into all that Max Tundra has to offer, you must first forgo your suspicion. Vintage electronics and unrepentant geekiness could point toward arty bliss or instead to a repetitious, ironic love of irony.
In other words, is Parallax Error Beheads You made of the same stuff as the provocative Supreme Balloon by Matmos or is it more along the lines of Dan Deacon’s ugly glasses charade? As it turns out, this record in is one of the most palatable mixes of whimsy and smart this side of writer David Sedaris or visual artist Jeff Koons. What Parallax Error Beheads You offers is a photogenic view of the last thirty or so years of electronic music blended into one smart-paced gem of a record. The only thing keeping it from this writer's list of 2009's best records is that it came out last year (oops!), and if it flew under your radar as well, there’s no time like the present to see what you've been missing.
Max Tundra is the stage name of Brit Ben Jacobs, already something of a cult fixture whose releases Mastered By Guy at the Exchange and Some Best Friend You Turned Out to Be pulled in a few listeners and critics with a combination of studio smarts and big hooks - though the masses were left somewhere in limbo. With Parallax Error Beheads You Tundra reaches weird heights of production and composition, which feels like no small oddity considering it encases disparate genres like smooth rock, glitchy IDM and even a little bubblegum. An example: while it was passed over for first single (it’s number one in heaven, though) by Domino records in favor of “Will Get Fooled Again,” “Which Song” is such a compelling work of funky pop that you’d be forgiven for thinking Timberlake and Timbaland had enlisted Brian Eno for their latest collaboration. It’s that tasty, and that odd.
Speaking of “Will Get Fooled Again,” Tundra makes scatter shot references to Passover Seder, Google image search and Jim O’Rourke before the first minute is even up, concentrating a shuffling drum beat into fuzzy synthesizer squalls. “My Night Out” drags the club crowd into the jazz lounge, and why not? It’s attention-deficit as all get out, but you’ll be able to keep up. Tundra doesn’t have a problem with repetition, but errs safely on the side of metamorphosis. Arguably the album’s greatest triumph is closer “Until We Die,” which at nearly eleven minutes completes a triumphant cycle of video game excess tempered with a chilly conclusion of swarming, quieter sonics.
For some, Tundra’s pace might be troubling. Considering he likely spends so much time on each project, he seems in an awful rush to get it all out through the speakers. The already mentioned glitch factor is ever-present, especially on the dizzying “Orphaned,” which takes a cut and paste approach to the pop form. Even at its best it is a bit nausea inducing, so keep it away during long boat trips or amusement park visits. Keep in mind, though, that this is the exception and not the rule, as most of the tracks go down like a spoonful of sugar.
As with every generation, we have our hand wringing cultural critics insisting that we’re officially out of ideas, as made clearly evident by a musical landscape dominated by sampling and mash-ups. Point taken, but Parallax Error Beheads You should give those worrywarts a chance to breathe a little easier. Idiosyncratic and original to a fault, Max Tundra is also deftly aware of what makes us turn up the volume and really listen - one of those rare pleasures that inspire all parts of the brain. If this is the blueprint for music's future, we’re in good hands.
