Outer Peace

His seventh is his strongest in years: funky, focused and rooted in the present.

A typically quirky commentary on contemporary culture's transient nature that's also attuned to the shifting moods of modern club sounds. [Feb 2019, p.116]

Chock-full of gluey basslines and gleaming synths, Outer Peace is very much a dance record and it’s pure ecstasy.

His chillwave sensibilities remain, but they’re bolstered by more direct elements from the popular hip-hop and disco funk sounds of today.

A deep, abiding melancholy runs beneath the record’s house-party vibe. Bear’s cool sigh frequently sounds like the aural approximation of bedhead, his vowels tousled, his consonants shying away from the light.

The songs here are largely fun and accessible, but contain hidden depths that encourage repeated listens; and that in itself is a testament to Toro Y Moi’s staying power and ability to find new ways of expressing himself.

Toro Y Moi’s overreliance on autotune can also stand in the way of his lyricism at points which is disappointing. Ultimately though, Chaz Bear’s decision to take himself less seriously is an experiment to be considered broadly successful and sees the release of some of his more inspired and infectious material in years.

Subtract the handful of tracks that fall into this category [come off like bad imitations of Drake or the Weeknd] and what's left is a fun, very well-crafted EP of uplifting dance music, the best Bear has made yet. Add them back and the record ends up a very mixed, somewhat disappointing bag that takes Toro y Moi to some exciting new places, but also treads familiar ground.

The album is perhaps a little lacking in knockout tracks but instead highlights Bear's clear talent as a producer with a craft for melody and rhythm. [Feb 2019, p.37]

Overall, the first half of Outer Peace sparkles, but there is a disappointing limpness to the second part which suggests that the ideas ran out and two EPs of excellent material could have been produced instead of one album’s worth of work.

The record’s constant dive through history often comes at the cost of consistency and a solid sonic identity, though, for the most part feeling more like a scrapbook of ideas in transition than the work of such an established act.

A transitional work perhaps, but whichever fork in the road he follows next, you feel he’ll continue to adapt.

The album’s title represents the remarkable possibility of finding freedom from the outside world by letting loose on the dance floor and experiencing liberation in a crowd of strangers. Bear certainly takes the album there at several points, but in the limited scope and cerebral slant of these too-brief songs, he loses that outer peace.

Overall, Outer Peace is a half-hearted attempt coming from an artist who’s testing a series of rough sketches in real time.