Max Tundra Parallax Error Beheads You

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Where to even begin with Max Tundra? He seems to exist in a musical kitchen entirely his own, cooking up manic programming, grating a block of free-jazz swiftitude with retrofuture analog synths, distilling down unpredictable chord changes and finely chopped electronic beats through his Amiga 500 into a concentrated stew of appealing weirdness. Blend in Tundra's earnest quest for a wife expressed in catchy, hyper-specific lyrics and it's an unpredictable electro-cabaret dinner served with unparalleled charm and goofy glee, a million-course meal stuffed into one disc from the singular mind of an itinerant musical chef.