Williamsburg is quite a contradiction. Despite the small town Main Street aesthetic of the Brooklyn neighborhood, it has become a catchall hipster haven for art school dropouts, transient scabs, and self-absorbed bohemian types in above average tax brackets ravenously gentrifying the area. Yet with the social discrepancies whirling around him, Chaz Bundick seems pretty indifferent. It’s possible that his high-energy performance to a throng of sweaty revelers at New York’s nightlife stalwart Webster Hall the previous night has left him a bit lethargic. Or maybe he’s simply got music on his mind. “I’m seeing lots of influence from trance and house,” he says as a car whizzes by blaring the latest from Rihanna’s canon of hits. At 25-years old, he’s developed a keen sense of musical trends. He’s well aware that the times they are a-changin’. “People are getting more used to it on the radio, it’s becoming more normal to hear four-on-the-floor beats. Even hip-hop artists are using those beats. That’s helping people open up to electronic music.”

Under the guise of Toro Y Moi, Les Sins, and a host of other foreign language pseudonyms, Bundick is part of a new generation of musical progeny prophesied by James Murphy on LCD Soundsystem’s 2002 landmark resentful ode to diminished relevancy and planned obsolescence “Losing My Edge.” A generation of creatives vaunting DIY solutions on steroids, buttressed with impressive Adobe Creative Suite chops, HTML skills, multi-instrumentalism, and hyper inflated sense of individuality. Bundick is one of the kids coming up from behind with better ideas and more talent. At 25-years-old, the Columbia, South Carolina native is a virtual wellspring of musical ideas and concepts that range in both genre and intensity. Upon the release of his official debut offering Causers Of This in 2010, Bundick – along with artists like Neon Indian and Washed Out – was at the forefront of a burgeoning new musical subgenre movement called chillwave. But at the time that Murphy’s jocose aging hipster diatribe was bubbling up underground, a then 16-year-old Bundick was simply a teenager grappling with his own racial identity.

“Growing up in South Carolina, there weren’t too many Asian kids,” he muses while stirring a cup of green tea. “At school, the black kids were like, ‘You’re not black’ and the white kids were like, ‘You’re not white.’” Reared in a bi-racial household by a Filipino mother and African-American father, his multiculturalism presented its share of challenges within in larger society for Bundick. “It was really confusing as a kid to see all the black kids hanging out at this table and all the white kids hanging out at that table.” Resolved to make the most of his situation, he sought comfort within the confines of his own residential cul-de-sac. Pretty soon, it became apparent that music would play the role of catalyst in converting his social dilemma into a cathartic experience. “It was fine, though. I just hung out with the kids in my neighborhood. I had black friends and white friends. I think I started just bonding all that with music.”

With his first CD purchase at the age of 10, a Beach Boys greatest hits collection, Bundick began to fall head over heels in love with the world of music. Becoming proficient on various instruments during his childhood and teenage years enabled him to expand his creative musical palate, forming bands along the way. It wasn’t long before Bundick was fusing his musical know-how with the latest in home studio technology and forming alliances with other local artists on the Columbia indie scene. “I was just making [music] for fun and giving it out for free,” he concedes. “There was no intention for it to be anything more.” A further testament to his regard for music as merely a hobby was evidenced in his entering the University of South Carolina as a graphic design major. Yet even still, Bundick found it difficult to tear himself away from his first love completely. Under the nom de plume Toro Y Moi, he recorded the Woodlands demos, a collection of tunes released as a free download during his sophomore year. After befriending electronic musician Ernest Greene (also known as Washed Out) as an upperclassman at USC, Bundick began to further explore his passion for music by integrating innovative production techniques and new technology.

Following his graduation in 2009, scored a major coup in landing a recording contract with the D.C.-based indie Carpark Records. While his elation was immeasurable, it’s clear that these weren’t his immediate career plans. “I was ready to go grab a graphic design job,” he admits. “I was already getting my resume ready, trying to shop it out. And then this happened.” Eager to introduce Bundick to the world, the label immediately issued Bundick’s tunes “Blessa” and “109” on a 7” vinyl single. But the label was anxious to make an even bigger splash with their new recruit. “They asked me if I wanted to do an album for February, so I said sure.” Carpark released his auspicious debut Causers Of This the following January. To cobble together Causers Of This, Bundick simply culled from his vast cache of previously recorded material. “I wrote that album pretty much from January 2009 to February 2009. I was writing in between classes at the end of my senior year.” The album, one of the flagship releases in the chillwave movement, received favorably by critics and earned him slots at various festivals such as SXSW and Glasgow Music Festival.

Yet while Bundick was ecstatic about the prospect of sharing his music with the multitudes in a live setting, he was well aware that something was sonically amiss. “It was hard for us to play the Causers Of This material live because it was all made on a laptop,” he reflects. “It wasn’t made with a live band in mind. I didn’t even think it was going to get this big. I was just working on a laptop, thinking it was going to be fun. Playing it live wasn’t exactly fulfilling. I wanted something more. I felt like the live show was suffering because of the songs.” With that in mind, Bundick shifted sonic gears with the unveiling of his sophomore album Underneath The Pine in early 2011. The set ambitiously forays into 80s boogie, moody psych pop, funky disco, and everything in between. With nods to a diverse array of artists such as Air, Kings Of Convenience, The Free Design, and Universal Robot Band, Underneath The Pine was a refreshing about face to Causers Of This that was recognized and embraced by everyone from Billboard to BET sister station Centric. “I didn’t expect it to take off like this, but I was totally wanting it,” he says. “I’m glad it happened.”

Playing all the instruments himself in an autocratic, technologically enhanced environment, his formula for Underneath The Pine was quite simple: “I did all the tracking on a 9-track digital recorder. Then, I took it to the studio to mix it.” Keeping the live show element in mind during the recording process helped Bundick stay the course. “I think it’s just a matter of capturing the performance. You can do that at home now, easily. To emphasize those better moments, the studio helps.” Not one to rest on his laurels, Bundick recently released Freaking Out, a 5-track EP chocked full of French house nuggets, 80s freestyle jams, and a synth pop rendition of Cherrelle & Alexander O’Neal’s 1985 R&B hit “Saturday Love” that affects a Röyskopp meets Paul Hardcastle vibe. “I had all these songs and thought it would be nice to have something new for the tour,” he says of the concept for Freaking Out. “So in February, I hurried up and finished them so I could have them in time for the September tour.”

It’s clear that Bundick is a more comfortable as a conceptual artist. Not in an attention-starved Lady Gaga way. But in an awe-inspiring, self-contained way: he does his own album artwork, directs his own videos, plays all the instruments on his albums, and writes his own songs. Whether he cut his own hair with a Flowbee, has a phobia of Oscar the Grouch, or owns a prized collection of corduroy pants is irrelevant. History has taught us that most geniuses have personas embroidered with varying degrees of peculiarity, so we’d have to give him a pass by default. What matters most is the music. Could he be the Prince of our day? Maybe. Yet however audacious the claim, there are obvious parallels between the autonomous work ethic and prolific output between Bundick and the purple one – minus the eyeliner and 5” heels. In addition, both artists have been able to transcend and dissolve racial barriers with their enigmatic musical talent. “Being the product of a biracial couple, it’s natural to be open minded about a lot of things,” he explains. “I like all kinds of music, so it completely erased that [racial] line. It’s great. I’m really glad at how things turned out.”

Read the rest of our exclusive conversation with Toro Y Moi in the latest issue of Art Nouveau Magazine. Issue #6, “Kind of Blue” also features interviews with Def Sound, Iggy Azalea and more. Copies on sale at Magcloud. Click here to get your copy.