Any listener who counts Tobacco’s previous work as a solo artist or as a member of the rock band Black Moth Super Rainbow among those albums they particularly enjoy will in all likelihood experience one of those moments of pleased recognition from the opening few seconds of “Constellation Dirtbike Head,” the first track on his latest, Maniac Meat, – “Oh yes, I recognize this sound, I like this sound. I think I’ll enjoy this album.” Those first few seconds are all that are needed to firmly establish Tobacco’s aesthetic, his signature whirring synths and those smeared-out vocoder tones undergirded by dirt simple electronic beats announcing his unmistakable presence. From Black Moth Super Rainbow onwards, Tobacco (Tom Fec) has inarguably crafted a distinctive style, one that likely went a long way towards bringing him into relative popularity. He consistently relies on antique analog equipment to create a signature set of textures. The singularity of this style is, however, a bit of a double-edged sword, presenting Tobacco with the problem that endlessly plagues artists across genres when it comes time to produce a second album. At this late stage in the history of music criticism, this problem has become the go-to talking point for any sophomore release: how does the band adapt their sound? Is it a move towards current standards of accessibility, a burrowing into and “refining” of their established interests, or a case of branching out into new territories and genres?

Tobacco opts for all three items on that completely non-inclusive list. He burrows back into his characteristic grinding haze, while also enlisting the decidedly-mainstream-yet-demonstrably quirky Beck to lend vocals to a couple of tracks. Bringing another vocalist on board turns out to be a good decision. In much that same way that Aesop Rock’s turn on the final track of Tobacco’s previous album hoisted Tobacco’s sound into new and invigorating places, the introduction of a new kind of stylization and a cleaner, clearer vocal production provides a new perspective on the chugging synthetic fuzz. However, Beck doesn’t provide as strongly differentiated of a counterpoint as Aesop Rock did. Beck adds wrinkles to the style rather than a sharp kick to it, and as a result there’s never a clear reason offered as to why he shows up – the songs on which he guests mostly sound like Tobacco songs, plus Beck. Besides this high-profile guest, of course, there are a few other elements that set Maniac Meat apart from its predecessor, most of which can be summed up by noting that the overall aesthetic is considerably harsher, the buzzing, grinding elements are brought to the fore and the floating ethereal tones diluted or excised. But even with these tweaks, the album as a whole consistently generates the pleasure of recognition mixed with the frustration of stasis – those fluttering arpeggios and the skewed-worldview of his lyrics still excite for a moment, but over the course of an album they start to wear.