You can hear the click track and a whisper at the top of the track before energetic acoustic guitars slam in hard and fast in both ears. Multiple tracked vocals hold down a melody that is somehow both meandering and assured.
Tundra sounds like a choir of slightly slurry Thom Yorkes, taking part in a group performance of a piece that may have been inspired by the manic section from Radiohead’s Paranoid Android. It’s Eastern influences are further accentuated when a violin arrangement joins the vocals (which are then suddenly panned hard to one side) and then replaces them for the rest of their section.
At no point do the guitars relent: programmed, crisp drum rhythms, bass and the aforementioned strings make entrances and exits throughout the arrangement, but the guitars pin down the tempo and the percussive drive throughout. The slightly woozy vocals get gruff at some moments and gentle at others. Backing vocals create moments of counterpoint before rejoining the lead line again.
Some lyric lines are repeated several times, creating a hypnotic mantra feel, while other sections develop Tundra’s message significantly. It makes the whole feel wonderfully spontaneous, and yet there’s also a feeling that it’s been properly sweated over. It’s as enigmatic as you like!
I’m concerned that Goldie shares his moniker with the drum’n’bass artist/James Bond actor from the 1990s, but this track is utterly individual, compelling and worthy of listening time and discussion. Its merits are thought-provoking, visceral, and genuinely interesting.