For various reasons and circumstances, certain musical forms and genres (and thus certain acts) are readily associated with certain types of venues or situations. Swanky, glitz-and-glamour bars don’t seem like appropriate places to hear something like the Urban Bandits’ “Do You Rebel, Rebel,” or The Wuds’ “At Nakalimutan ang Diyos” for that matter. Filipino black-metal stalwarts Bloodshedd would stick out like an angry middle finger if seen setting up after a jazz band in some hotel lounge (unless of course that hotel is in hell). Likewise, the confessions of singer-songwriter types like Gary Granada or Cynthia Alexander would probably be drowned out in a warehouse designed for the frenzied, ecstatic hysteria of a rave.

If this is sound logic then Causers of This, the debut album by Toro y Moi (the moniker of half-Filipino, half-African-American soundsmith Chaz Bundick) can work for a house party that is either a) slightly begrudging the fact that it is winding down, or b) simply cruising through a respite in preparation for a return to a high-energy breakout. Yes, this is yet another dance album, but one that calms the dance-floor divas down, not entice them to show off further.

Online press went abuzz when this album came out in early 2010, lumping Toro y Moi with such bands as Neon Indian, Memory Tapes, Washed Out, and, to some extent, Animal Collective under the banner of the so-called “chill-wave” movement. In Causers of This, layers upon layers of synthesizers, reverb-laden guitars, and god-knows-what-else, are driven along by straightforward, mid-tempo beats that lay the groundwork for basslines so deep, one almost feels it as a physical presence. Bundick seems to be very playful as a producer, embellishing the already lush arrangements with minute artifacts that leave the most attentive of audiophiles second-guessing themselves (i.e., “Did I just hear a ghost on the record?”).

Of course, while at the house party, there isn’t much time to harp on the details of this dance album. In fact, Bundick’s own watery and garbled vocals seem only incidental to everything else that’s happening. However, underneath the aural accoutrements of Causers of This is a latent sadness that comes out only if one actually sits down to listen, perhaps with a lyric sheet on hand. On “Fax Shadow,” there is remorse and disdain for an ex-lover’s new romance (“Don’t tell me anymore about what you have/I know you’re different now from what I had/I’m sorry that I couldn’t name the color of your eyes”). On the other hand, there is an acceptance of loss in “Low Shoulder” (“That was us for the last five years,/now it’s over and it’s getting better”). Perhaps Causers of This is to Toro y Moi as Sea Change was to Beck.

Where and when, then, would this album be an appropriate listen? Surely, the confessional nature of Bundick’s lyrics is hidden away from the cursory listening prevalent in a house party. Of course, this might be his aim in the first place. After all, it would be quite the buzzkill if somebody started reading aloud pages off of their diary while everybody was in the midst of party-grade socializing. On the other hand, this doesn’t change the fact that Bundick’s stories are there for anybody to pick out. I’d hazard a guess this record is heard best with one’s ears nestled within a set of studio-grade headphones. (Mikey “Billy B.” Abola)

Toro y Moi performance photo by Mehan, via Flickr. Some rights reserved. Causers of This is distributed locally by Universal.