Kyle Hargus and Jason Baxter are from Seattle and until recently went by the name “Universal Studios Florida.” I can only assume that copyright concerns caused them to shorten it to USF, though maybe they just wanted to make their moniker more Google searchable.
Whatever the reason, fans of the duo’s earlier releases—especially 2009’s lo-fi jungle-pop Ocean Sunbirds cassette—need not worry; their name change has, if anything, signaled a tightening of their sound. Tribal drums, your childhood’s memory of electronic music, and stoned loops still abound on their latest release, The Spray, which first came out back in 2011. Apparently, these dudes had gotten their gear stolen from them prior to recording this record. Don’t get me wrong, that’s a damn shame, but their replacement tools seem to have been an upgrade; The Spray is crisper than anything they’ve made before.
This is evident from the moment track two’s action-movie guitar chords slam into focus. Hazy it isn’t; there’s an urgency here, as well as on the rest of the record, that we haven’t really heard from these guys before. “Let’s Just Hide It,” for instance, emboldens its percussion with louder, clearer beats and a discernible bass line that provide a sturdier foundation for the duo’s typically smeared ambient synth work. “Salmon Colored,” meanwhile, opens with downright industrial drums before launching into some kind of downtempo Atari fantasy buoyed by a beat that never sits still despite maintaining a steady rhythm. In fact, the way USF play with drums on The Spray sometimes borders on IDM, a refreshingly kinetic move away from the languor that characterizes so much “lo-fi tribal” bedroom pop. Even when they’re keeping things chill, boredom is successfully averted. On “You, You, You,” the shakers and woodblocks and lord-knows-what-else sputter and morph along with the electric piano and digital pan-flutes they’re backing.
It’s not like Hargus and Baxter haven’t toyed with these ideas before. Rather, The Spray indicates an increased confidence, astuteness, and curiosity that manifest themselves in decisions they probably would’ve shied from in earlier times. “Close Your Eyes,” for example, opens with crystal-clear guitar lines that recall Mark McGuire’s work before absolutely exploding in glitchy euphoria. USF’s willingness and ability to fuse disparate ideas while retaining a gleefully psychedelic tone all throughout grant The Spray a comfortable distance from the many tropical chillwave releases that too often seem to breathe the same tired Animal-Collective-through-the-VCR air. By the time we hear the synth strings, xylophone notes, and 808 thumps of “Visible Missing Objects” and the melting-icicle balladry of “Placidly Naked,” USF’s newfound sense of exploration has rung loud and clear.
In sum, I’m happily surprised by The Spray. I’ll admit I was expecting a sort of louder, half-assed sequel to Ocean Sunbirds. Instead, I heard similar vibes given an energy boost and a few turns in the spin cycle of experimental electronica. The last track on The Spray is titled “The Sunlight Makes It Wear Off,” but after 45 minutes of this joyous music, I’m not sure I want it to.
