Max Tundra
Parallax Error Beheads You
(Domino)
1/2
Max Tundra is an unlikely pop singer. The
multi-
instrumentalist, producer, and remixer born Ben Jacobs
breaks a mold similar to that busted by Jamie Lidell, moving from IDM
to electro funk to pop R&B; only where Lidell has made that
progression linearly over time, Tundra does it several
times—forward, backward, and sideways—within each of his
deliriously hyperactive songs.
Even Max Tundra’s most ostensibly pop songs, such as “Will Get
Fooled Again,” cram in a mess of stupefyingly stuttering drumbeats, odd
virtuosic guitar and keyboard flourishes, miasmatic microsamples, and
strange changes. “Until We Die” rides a racing rhythm, with off-kilter
piano, synth, guitar, and chimes arpeggiating and circling like a swarm
of insects—then it turns into a power ballad, then a slow,
steaming bass riff, and then back. The effect is like hurtling past
musical scenery in a dangerously swerving automobile or a roller
coaster running off its rails. Either way, everything threatens to
become a nauseating blur—which of course is half the fun.
Another defining trait of Max Tundra’s songs is a certain, geeky
fetishism. Parallax Error Beheads You refers to a kind of analog
film camera malfunction. “Nord Lead Three” is a devoted and Devo’d ode
to a favorite synthesizer, full of new-wave stomp, daft monotone
lyrics, and clipping live drum clatter. Gentle ballad “The
Entertainment” repeats the photo shoptalk before being swept up into a
cheesy, echoing, trance-synth lead that somehow strikes the perfect mix
of saccharine and sentimental. “Will Get Fooled Again” treads a
similarly dangerous line between cringeworthy and cute with its
references to Google, MySpace, and eBay.
There’s something almost sad about the Jekyll/Hyde schizophrenia of
the starry-eyed crooner and the mad studio scientist. It’s like Max
Tundra keeps trying to make a simple pop song but instead ends up with
these wonderfully confounding creations. When he sings, “I was born to
entertain,” there’s something pleading about it—this is all he
can or wants to do—but he’s not boasting, he’s begging. So it’s
especially satisfying when it all comes together on the romantically
confused “Which Song,” whose melodic, digitally breathy chorus is the
most catchy and affecting pop moment I’ve heard in a while.
Professor
Skipper
Gilligan
Mr. Howell