One of the more interesting things about music to me is how we attempt to categorize and classify according to imperfect terminologies—and more specifically, how that terminology changes over time.

Take for instance the term math rock. These days, it is most often used to describe neo-prog with noodly guitar lines (usually played with two-handed tapping) and rapid meter changes through odd time signatures. Think Chon, TTNG, or Polyphia.

But in the mid-to-late 90s, the music called “math rock” was much more patient. There were plenty of odd meters and angular guitar lines, but tempos were slower, more cerebral than maniacal, relying more on compositional experimentation than technical virtuosity. More interesting, much of this early math rock was born at the intersection of post-hardcore and post-rock. Think bands like Slint, Roadside Monument, late-era Frodus, or even Sunny Day Real Estate’s LP2.

One of the hidden gems of this scene is June of 44, who I have somehow entirely missed until the last few months.

These days, my record buying process involves large lists that have been extensively studied and quantified and prioritized. But every once in a while, I’ll walk into my local record store and find myself drawn to an album I haven’t heard.

That was the case a few months ago (dang, I’m behind on this blog) when I walked in and saw Tropics and Meridians right on the featured wall.

I had previously purchased this album’s follow-up, the math rock classic Four Great Points, but I hadn’t heard a single second of this disc. Even so, Four Great Points gave me enough reason to take a chance anything this band put to tape. And that gamble certainly paid off here.

By Four Great Points, June of 44 had already dropped much of their earlier post-hardcore leanings in favor of experimental and jazz-inspired flavors. And while no one is going to say Tropics and Meridians is a straightforward post-hardcore album, it’s not as iconoclastic as Four Great Points. 

There are still plenty of distorted guitar riffs and shouted vocals to be had, primarily in opener “Anisette,” a nine-minute groove punctuated with explosions, and closer “Sanctioned in a Birdcage,” which could maybe pass as an experimental Fugazi track if the vocals sounded more like Guy or Ian. But these loud moments are more accents in the album’s whole than the main colors, ferocious bookends for a more experimental core.

In fact, outside of these two tracks, much of the album is played with clean guitars with no vocals at all, such as the near-eight-minute instrumental “Lawn Bowler,” which sounds way more like Tortoise than Jawbox. “Arms Over Arteries” is similarly hushed, vocals crooning in a near whisper above oblique guitar lines and a barely-there drum figure. “June Leaf” is a brief detour back into frantic distortion, but it rises and falls between picked guitar lines with spoken word vocals to open chord and shouted vocal catharsis. But at 5:10, it’s one of the briefer (!) tracks on the album.

I’ll admit that even across several listens (this has been in my queue for a while now…I’m so behind on this blog), June of 44 has eluded my comprehension. It’s not that I don’t get it or whatever—I certainly do understand and appreciate what it is they’re doing. But as of yet, I haven’t been able to grasp the compositional patterns at play across their work. Every repeated listen feels like I’m hearing it for the first time, like the grooves etched into the disc are still metamorphosizing. But if nothing else, that promises endless fresh listens.