The opener, “Skylarking,” immediately telegraphs this new direction. Its lightly churning two-chord vamp feels loose and off the cuff, and as organ and saxophone take turns soloing, you can be deceived into thinking you’ve dropped in on some languorous afternoon jam session. Lean in closer and you’ll notice a carefully thought-through arrangement and slight but impactful production tics. Hard-panned flutes appear halfway through as if demarcating a chorus, then return near the end to bolster the pulse as layers of squiggling instrumentation pile on top of each other. Four minutes in, the kick drum, which has so far anchored the pleasantly wafting sonics, drops out at the end of a measure as the sax comes back in, signaling a shift in momentum as the song pushes to its conclusion. It’s all very subtle, but these moments signify an ensemble newly interested in tension and release to induce altered states rather than the brain-warping pace of perpetual forward motion.
The electronic webbing that was the focal point of songs like “Jammu,” from Bajas Fresh, or “Amorpha,” from Bajascillators, gets pushed into the background on Inland See, creating a shimmering, atmospheric noise floor. On “Reno,” all the synth gurgles and pings create space for the repeated melody to swell into, like swarms of fireflies illuminating unexplored parts of a forest. As the piano, saxophone, and triangle waves that overlap on the theme all begin to fade out, you realize how many sounds are happening at once, how massive the song truly is. Even the most legato moments, like the eight-and-a-half-minute “Keiji Dreams,” or the beginning of “Skylarking,” feel roomier, like the intervals of a chord curiously circling each other, interested to learn how they fit together.
The band typically shows its true power when allowing runtimes to extend past 10 minutes, and album closer “Graut,” a sidelong stunner that morphs drastically over the course of its 18 minutes, is another addition to its pantheon of longform blissouts. It starts as a continuation of the gaseous drift established during “Keiji Dreams,” a simple drum-machine pattern eventually straightening its spine into the kind of Teutonic kosmische workout that the Bajas excel at. But instead of letting its motorik pulse hit bedrock, they begin to bend the groove, introducing swing little by little. It’s the most playful the Bajas have ever seemed; by the time the song reaches the two-thirds mark, “Graut” has landed on a vibe that’s part new age, part ’90s R&B, a slight departure that marks wholly new territory for the Bajas. The band wrote most of this material onstage while touring in support of Bajascillators, so when they gathered at Electric Audio to put the new songs to tape, their ideas had revealed new contours through constant repetition and refinement. This is the Bitchin Bajas ethos: Every idea is a piece of the infinite; there is enough depth in a single moment to provide a lifetime of surprises.
