by Dan Goldin (@post_trash_)
Sometimes it would seem a band hits their creative peak when least expected. Sometimes it happens when everything else is beginning to fall apart, like a brilliant spark emerging as the sun has set. We can’t portend to know what sort of future lies ahead for Hadley, MA’s Tundrastomper, but in the here and now, they’ve returned with an unexpected new record, their best to date. After five years of relative silence (at least in terms of Tundrastomper… the members have stayed plenty busy with other projects), we’re presented with Less More, their first full length since 2017. While the record was recorded shortly after that (in 2018 and 2019), much has changed during that time for the band, such is life, but the record’s sinewy prog sprawl, meandering lo-fi clamor, and it’s radiant art-pop exploration remain in tact. The quartet are working among impulses, taking unexpected turns whenever they might appear. For all the dazzling complexity in their sound, there’s the feeling that Less More is a celebration of sorts, a connection between four dear friends pushing their musical limits. They seem to be having a good time decimating and reshaping pop structures, pausing for in-jokes when necessary.
Less More shouldn’t be confused with the old adage of “less is more,” a saying that rarely applies to Tundrastomper’s nuanced compositions. The theme seems to be more of a contradictory nature, the push and pull between two sides of a spectrum, less vs. more. There are questions at hand that feel unanswered. Where do we land? Which direction are we headed in? Whichever way you go, Tundrastomper offer a path, a voyage of homespun prog and math rock that feels a lot more casual than those genre descriptions might imply. They never operate with a “look what I can do” mentality, but more an aura of “what happens if we stretch in this direction, and maybe that direction, but also this direction too,” like an octopus at an ice cream shop. It’s their own strange trip, a gathering of close friends who grew up playing music together, supporting delightfully weird ideas, and working to follow them wherever they may lead. It doesn’t always land where you imagine it will, and that’s part of the ride. They eschew prog rock rigidity, in favor of joyous freedom, played with knotted brilliance but a loose and wild spirit, where conceptual focus seems entirely optional.
The fusion of Tundrastomper’s playing throughout Less More is in perfect alignment, every manic burst of rhythm, every disorienting riff, every shifting tempo feels as though it’s supporting the bigger picture. Skyler Lloyd (vocals, guitar), Sam Brivic (guitar), Andrew Jones (bass), and Max Goldstein (drums) have played together long enough to seem telepathic, tangling and spiraling out in unison, zigging and zagging with a cohesive grace that starts to feel impossibly instinctive. From the album’s beautifully discordant opening we’re introduced to the band’s enchanting propensity for math rock. “More Less” doesn’t work to shake us from the path but to ensnare us within it. We’re being lulled prior to cataclysmic response, it’s that aforementioned push and pull in effect. There’s technicality and mutating arrangements galore as the record unwinds, highlighted in the one-two punch of “Smaller Than Small” and “Curb Alert,” two songs that ooze with complex rhythms (give Jones and Goldstein their flowers). Their shapes are an ever shifting mirage, led by disorienting turns that seem designed to cause dizziness. It’s a sonic assault for those who love to scramble their brain, but against all odds, Tundrastomper wield the ability and light touch to make it sound accessible for those that prefer a passive listen (though astute attention is certainly rewarded).
That light touch, often delivered via Lloyd’s gorgeous vocals, comes hand-in-hand with the band’s sense of humor. While too much progressive music suffers from a self-serious nature, Tundrastomper are content to inject a goofy sense to their profound constructions. Songs like the extravagantly teetering “Bap Hoss” and the pinched clamor and fuzz of “Vortex” offer both texture and a reminder of the band’s raw sense of fun. The threads unravel here and there, but spirits remains high, and the band remain effervescent. It’s in “What’s The Difference?,” the album’s centerpiece, where their sense of freedom and adventure coalesce, layering alternating ideas one atop another, from the bleating hum of unnerving bass and the insistent violins (courtesy of Care O'Leary) to the arpeggiated acoustics and the distorted melodies that are bent way out of frame. There are a lot of ideas happening simultaneously, firing like synapses in the brain, and yet it hardly feels chaotic. Tundrastomper are jumping from point to point in a way that feels fluid, leaving a trail of breadcrumbs to be followed in due time, just as soon as your senses catch up.
The back half of the record comes unglued. In essence Tundrastomper have cut loose, the parameters are increasingly evaporating. There are moments of subterranean sludge interspersed with chiming acoustics and spirited whistling (“Dropdream”), as well as waves of Tropicália-tinged reminiscence and reflection (“Protect The Egg”), both moments that provide levity and personality. Anything goes and the record is better for it, our imagination stirred. “Pack It Up” (not to be confused with Clean It Up or “Patch It Up”) has a brilliant sort of calm before the before the storm sound to it, dreamy yet shadowy, wrought with tension in the twilight. It’s a stunning composition, swarming and shuffling in equal measure, a highlight of taut momentum and post-hardcore dexterity. On the other hand, there’s an undeniable sense of joy when Tundrastomper play fast and loose, captured on songs like “Good Boy Treat,” a wild tidal wave in constant motion, breaking and crashing without warning, with guest vocals from Zosia Kochanski (EIEIEIO, Wishbone Zoe). The song skronks and contorts, a ball of sardonic energy perpetually exploding. Rather than leave you rattling though, Tundrastomper arrive at “Dripdrop,” a song that itches with the threat of summer tics and high grass over a bed of jazzy exploration and syrupy melodies. It’s ease within a structure of unease, the magic of comfort amid complexity.
Long live Tundrastomper, a DIY gem for the ages.