The list of “bitchin’” things in music is select: Camaros, summers, pretty lives. Meditative, drone-filled music built on synths, drum machines, and woodwinds usually does not fit the bill. Yet the Chicago trio Bitchin Bajas (possibly named after the late, lamented Subaru coupé utility vehicle) makes a strong case for the bitchin-ness of their aggressively subdued sound. Cooper Crain, Rob Frye, and Dan Quinlivan may not shred, but they can carve, shaping layers, loops, and live instruments into dazzling, dizzying constructions.
Inland See, the Bajas’ ninth album not counting some collaborations and a soundtrack, continues the band’s heavy-duty minimalism, with closing track “Graut” clocking in at over 18 minutes while barely breaking a low boil. But immersive, deep-focus grooves have always been just one part of the Baja arsenal. Switched On Ra from 2021, a sleek tribute to avant-garde pianist Sun Ra, made the group’s ties to jazz explicit, while 2022’s Bajascillators contoured and condensed their spacious abstractions into tight, descriptive shapes. Inland See, with its suggestively meditative title, continues this process of elaborations by winnowing down. “Graut” may be long, but it uses its time efficiently, shifting from airy synth chords, fluttery flute, and glassy glissandos to a bright, beat-driven workout that has the sprightly pulse of classic kosmische (its name is a pun on “kraut” and the substance that glues tile together) bands like Neu! The floaty, slow section lasts under four minutes but stretches out with delicious languor, while the percussive, poppy portion whizzes by in three times that duration.
Opening track “Skylarking” might be the most accomplished Bajas track yet, with a slow, violinlike opening giving way to a snappy rhythmic pulse, a nodding bass line, a goofy repeated synth motif that almost sounds like computerized vocals, and several layers of overlapping melodies, including an impressively moody sax line. It’s an exquisitely mixed array of colorful textures that weave together while also remaining separate from each other, secure in their own zones but prone to promiscuity. Bitchin Bajas songs often invite or evoke trancelike states conducive to deep inner contemplation; “Skylarking,” its name suggestive of playful tomfoolery, an old Hoagy Carmichael torch song, and a bird in flight (it’s also possible the Bajas are referencing another defunct car, this one by Buick), directs its gaze outward and upward.
“Reno” continues that brightness, building off a steady rhythm with a hiccup on the final beat that began in “Skylark.” It starts with clean, almost acoustic-sounding keys that lay down quietly deliberate chords that gradually bloom into a stubborn, tender melody. The band recorded these songs in the same room, which gives them a directness that should be at odds with the Bajas’ drifty aesthetic. Instead, they found a new kind of immediacy. Even the most charmingly lugubrious track on the album, “Keiji Dreams,” moves with a warped strut, recalling the silicon verve of Vangelis, but woozier. Bitchin Bajas may not rock the party, but they’ve found a way to make the chillout tent the hottest place to be.
