Since the release of 2010’s Causers Of This, Toro y Moi’s output has become increasingly sleek and sophisticated. In just over a year, he shifted from distorted, synth-driven shoegaze towards a unique brand of funk and jazz-infused pop, as exhibited on his sophomore full-length, Underneath The Pine. September’s Freaking Out EP saw Chaz Bundick arrive at a distillation of the two albums, augmenting his already burgeoning paintbox with an exploration of disco and all-out, four to the floor dance music. So, while a journey into the annals of most artists of a similar vintage might not be cause for excitement, a trawl through demos and half-finished songs seems a bit more worthwhile in the case of Toro y Moi.

in the context of this release, it is also important to note that Bundick has carved a career out of nostalgia. His work is a series of snapshots, dripping with melancholy and haunted by an ominous awareness of time and space; the creator seeming to reside perpetually on the edge of both, lamenting his separation from friends, lovers, home. Bundick, more than most, is fascinated with the idea of capturing a moment, seeking to combat the painful realities of distance and transience through his music. And so it makes sense that we have June 2009, an untouched, faded Polaroid of a time before his rise to indie fame.

Opener, 'Best Around', recalls the bass-driven, shifting funk rhythms of 'Still Sound' while, thematically, it’s extremely familiar territory as he grapples with loneliness and inertia. The bare bones honesty of the sentiment is arresting as Bundick repeats the refrain, “Call me soon, I don’t have anything to do." 'Take the L to Leave' is a sun-drenched marriage of synths and fa"setto vocals that draws from the same Brian Wilson-borrowed inkwell that informed so much of Underneath The Pine.

The unpolished gems of 'Dead Pontoon' and 'Ektelon' suggest Bundick owes at least some of his inspiration to off kilter lo-fi luminaries such as R Stevie Moore and Daniel Johnston and point to an underlying Pavement influence. Indeed, it’s pure Malkmus as the vocals drift willfully in and out of tune on the latter, the dissonance serving as a metaphor for emotional despondence as the singer desperately beseeches some unknown force to, "Give me anybody."

There is much more of Underneath The Pine in this record than Causers Of This, suggesting that Bundick’s relationship with Ernest Greene and the rest of the loose Chillwave movement may have caused him to veer off course from his original blueprint before realising his vision on his sophomore effort. 'In Sad Sams' and 'Talamak', however, we have accomplished specimens of electronic indie; the former an exercise in Nine Inch Nails-esque gothic abrasiveness, the latter a glistening slice of pop in the vein of Washed Out or Young Magic. These are a welcome inclusion and provide a fascinating insight in to the myriad stylistic controls at Bundick’s fingertips.

It should also be pointed out, however, that the bulk of these songs are not the finished article. The quality of the recordings is varied but it tends towards poor, while the vast majority of the songs weren’t considered for earlier release because they simply weren’t complete. Closer, 'New Loved Ones', for example, degenerates from gorgeous acoustic lullaby to farcical, faux-angst folk. Its whimsical approach is more frustrating than endearing and it leaves you wanting a more focused take.

The key to understanding the compilation comes on 'Warm Frames', as we encounter our protagonist hanging pictures to remind him of a summer which has been and gone. Dripping in echo, his ethereal lament feels as though it will float away, nihilistically reminding us that, "Summer will decay." His task, however, is to preserve as much of these memories as possible so that they don’t vanish completely.

On June 2009, Bundick carries out a similar exercise with his work, resulting in a warm and generally thoughtful collection of sketches which provide context around his finished releases, helping us to understand how we got there. However, while these kinds of collections lie almost outside of the scope of review, it should be noted that they are infinitely more interesting for existing fans. The low fidelity here will be jarring for newcomers, as will the half-baked nature of many of the songs. If you’re already a convert, this merits your attention. If not, it would be wiser to start with the material which was deemed worthy of release first time round.