The cover of Toro y Moi’s latest record, Outer Peace, seems to offer a window into Chaz Bear’s everyday life: relaxing at his home studio, plugging away at a computer, creating a musical universe in an insular setting.

“It’s definitely a more romanticized version of what I do,” he says, laughing softly. “Just me at a computer with a synth and some instruments. For the most part, I’m just knocking it out by myself.”

Bear, who was born Chazwick Bradley Bundick, has been churning out music for well over a decade under the name Toro y Moi. Oftentimes, the word “prolific” is used to describe the 32 year old’s musical output. He released 10 albums before signing with Carpark Records in 2009, and has since dropped six more (seven if you count the one he made in 2014 under the Les Sins moniker). Yet, considering his success in both the indie and electronic music spheres, it’s rare for an artist like Bear to remain on the same label for so long.

“Over the years, we’ve both grown comfortable,” he says of the Washington, D.C.-based record company. “They’re making a lot of changes to their structure just for me, and that’s something I really appreciate and admire, and not something a lot of labels would do. To accommodate me like that and essentially be my team is really nice. It’s a dream situation.”

A lot of it, as Bear notes, comes down to comfort. Whether it’s sticking with a label he trusts or sitting for hours at his computer, his musical strength comes from his ability to listen to his own creative compass.

Outer Peace’s lead single “Freelance,” for example, was a personal home run. Not only does its infectious backbeat contrast with Bear’s more introspective 2017 LP Boo Boo (“I was just looking to bring it back to an upbeat place”), but its lyrics have the intent he was searching for. After all, lines like “Nothing’s ever worse than work unnoticed” or “I can’t tell if I’m hip or getting old” are painfully relatable.

“I felt like it actually said something and I wanted to make sure I released music purpose- fully,” he says. “I wanted to have the lyrical content be something I’m more aligned with.” On closer listen, the vocal edits on “Freelance” are also reminiscent of fellow psychedelic-indie purveyors Animal Collective. Bear, who enjoys wearing his influences on his sleeve, embraces the comparison. He admits that a musical callback to another artist can be a subtle nod to a shared experience with his listeners: “All those people who grew up listening to Sung Tongs, that’s just for them. It’s not like I’m trying to blow up Animal Collective or anything; it’s more that I’m trying to connect with people. One of the little things you can do with music is create a collage that people can relate to.”

Another goal of Outer Peace was collaboration. Setting up shop in Oakland, Calif., Bear invited fellow musicians like synthpop singer ABRA (“Miss Me”), Kelly Zutrau of indie duo Wet (“Monte Carlo”) and producer Instupendo (“50-50”) to hang out and contribute to the album.

And while he sees himself working with more artists in the future and, ideally, teaming up with a producer for an entire album, it took one more dose of self-reliance to bring Outer Peace across the finish line. Sure, Oakland was great place for a creative jolt but, eventually, the outside noise became a distraction. Bear packed up his studio and searched for somewhere more secluded, landing at a cabin on the Russian River in Cazadero, Calif. For two weeks straight, he spent his mornings walking along the river and then worked through the afternoon and evening. It was the routine, he notes, that allowed him to fully focus. “Being able to just wake up, do work and go to sleep is a special thing,” he explains. “It’s necessary these days to find some space to think.” (Cazadero even gets a lyrical shout out in “Freelance” as Bear acknowledges his inner outdoorsman: “Cazadero got me wearing all camo/ Decked in Patagonia, head to toe.”)

Now that the album is complete, Bear already has his sights set on the next one. “I’m always working,” he explains. “When I’m not touring, I’m making the next record because I know I want to keep doing this. It has to keep going, too. It’s not something you can really do only when you want. It’s this organism that’s out here now. It’s made it to a sustainable point and now it’s up to me to decide to keep it going.”

Even as he continues the cycle of looking inward and creating outward, Bear still mines his past for inspiration. In a recent press photo, he sported a classic Phish T-shirt, piquing the curiosity of jamband fans and critics alike, making them wonder if there’s been a certain Vermont influence buried somewhere in his layers of synthesizers and drum pads.

Bear chuckles at the notion, saying, “I don’t have any of their albums or anything but, in high school, most of my friends were the Phishheads. The hippie kids at my high school were the ones I was hanging out with, as opposed to the popular kids or something. I resonate with the hippie audience, but I always felt more in that world from an ethical point of view. So it feels good to rep that and to wave the freak flag and throw it up with the peace sign.”

This article originally appears in the January/February 2019 issue of Relix. For more features, interviews, album reviews and more, subscribe here.