While the cryptically silly title’s explicit forewarning of potential decapitation remains to be reconciled, at least one part of the offered construct can be fathomed: the angle at which one approaches Parallax Error Beheads You will certainly affect how it is absorbed. That is, with drizzles of candied, cloying pop melodies and pinwheeling hooks transmitted primarily via punctiliously precooked electronics, passing off Ben Jacob’s third record as Max Tundra would be nearly excusable. But to respond in such a manner is to perhaps err by way of the parallactic misconstruing the title alludes to. Thus, a renewed perspective is necessitated. Given the painstakingly meticulous attention to detail, in addition to the fact that six years have elapsed between this and his previous outing, Parallax Error Beheads You refuses to be so quickly rebuffed.
The album begins with an uncannily straightforward perpetuation of two rigid notes in “Gum Chimes,” justifying a raised eyebrow or two in the wake of its undemanding scantness; this introduction is somewhat unprecedented, especially in view of Tundra’s first two albums. Brief moments such as this occur from beginning to end, immediately beckoning the inquiry as to whether Parallax Error Beheads You actually ensues from some type of direction; it sometimes feels as if it is 42 minutes of self-indulgence with cocksure certainty that everyone else will find it just as interesting. But then, in true Max Tundra fashion, a stuttered, deliberately obnoxious riff quickly overlaps, setting forth spiraling hyperactive, techno-facilitated pop of the most ebullient variety. And after several listens to this densely layered kaleidoscope, a train of thought materializes, serving to unify in the mind of the listener what may have initially been pooh-poohed as unabashedly turgid luxuriating on Tundra’s part.
His preferred modus operandi, a relatively obsolete personal computer that Tundra utilizes to manage synthesizers, samplers, and contrived shards of real instruments (including cello, bass guitar, and trumpet), has contributed as much to his reputation as his finished product, serving to crystallize what colorfully convoluted ideas pogo around in his head. Almost every song on this record benefits from Tundra’s narrowed, hands-on concentration, equating to a superbly compact, unwrinkled case study on what degree of scrupulousness one must exhibit before a diagnosis of obsessive-compulsive disorder is legitimized. In fact, the accompanying press release features a testimonial from Owen Pallett (known best for his Final Fantasy project) on Tundra’s keen eye: “What sets Max Tundra apart from any other band in the world is his attention to detail. This album is impossibly full of ideas, seeking out every imaginable sound in the world and giving each their own curtain call.”
And Pallett’s insight can be built upon. Of course, Tundra’s neurotic sensitivity to every individual component is comparable to that of a handful of other artists, but Parallax Error Beheads You further accentuates his talent for nitpicking particulars in that he keeps in check his predilection for eccentricity. Yes, he thrusts forth his best high-pitched boy band emulation in “Which Song.” Yes, he draws on past theme openers of family-oriented sitcoms for the first few minutes of album closer “Until We Die.” Yes, he mashes gazillions of indecipherable sound bites to form the bulk of party starting “Orphaned.” Yes, he sings, “I was born to entertain” in, cleverly, “The Entertainment.” But what inspires him to ham it up never preoccupies him from his consideration of technicality, ergo harnessing this record from beginning to end for the sake of fluidity.
Ultimately, the listener must be contented with the reality that Parallax Error Beheads You is a record that truly speaks for itself. Whether or not repeated visits extract more than mere recognition of Tundra’s proficiency behind the knobs, an appreciation for his mindfulness to the most infinitesimal of details is certain.
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