dream pop

Record #129: Deerhunter – Cryptograms/Fluorescent Grey EP (2007)

/ Nathaniel FitzGerald
And now, we move into one of my favorite discographies in recent history, if not all time.​If you don’t already know, Deerhunter is a force of nature in the indie world, both socially and musically. The group itself is almost less of a band than it is a collaboration between two of the most prolific figures in indie rock, Bradford Cox (a.k.a.

Atlas Sound) and Locket Pundt (a.k.a. Lotus Plaza), even if technically, the band released two albums and an EP before any official release from either one.

Despite their success, Deerhunter is the archetypal garage band–a group of young bucks banging out songs who love listening to music as much as they love creating it, as evidenced by the band blog, curated mostly by Bradford Cox, and the hour long Krautrock version of My Sherona played at an Atlas Sound show.

But despite their prolificacy and media frenzy around them (read: Cox, the most controversial member of the group), Deerhunter first and foremost makes excellent music. Cryptograms, their second album and breakthrough (and the first Deerhunter album Cox doesn’t disown) is absolutely, one hundred percent excellent, and it remains my favorite. The album is split into two halves (on vinyl, two discs). The first half is more atmospheric, with an occasional song peering out of the ambient fog of droning guitars and synthesizers with meaty bass lines and heavily-echoed vocals. “Lake Somerset” veers closely to ambient dance punk, while “Octet,” but for its one-note bass pound, might escape a casual listener for its ambience.

The second half is the conceptual opposite: of the five tracks, only one (“Tape Hiss Orchid”) is an instrumental. The rest are hazy pop songs with hypnotic pounds and shoegazy guitar jangles over trance-like vocals. With the inclusion of the Fluorescent Grey EP on the fourth side, this record almost becomes two separate albums, one more ambient focused and the other pop-song centric.

​But the remarkable thing is, they do both well, impressing on each half of the record. Sadly though, as their career has progressed, Deerhunter (and Atlas Sound) have moved away from the atmospheric aspects of their palette. And while the rest of their catalogue is just as excellent, no one does ambient indie rock the way they do here, leaving a void that only Cryptograms can fill.

Record #98: Beach House – Bloom (2012)

/ Nathaniel FitzGerald

I’m back from vacation and in a new house with a slew of new records under my arm and the hi-fi set up in the living room. I’m ready to get on with this project.

First record back onto the saddle is Beach House’s new release, Bloom. As I mentioned earlier, Beach House makes some of the best dream pop around these days, existing in “the sweet spot between pop music and chill music where God intended dreampop to live,” (from my review of Teen Dream, way back on record #26). Bloom’s predecessor is one of my favorite records ever, a cloudy masterpiece of effervescence and ambiguity. Bloom has certain similar qualities; the sound of the record is nearly identical–nothing here would sound out of place on Teen Dream or vice versa–the same droning synthesizers and glassy slide guitars carry Victoria Legrand’s smoky, androgynous voice through the thick reverb coating the record.

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Record #21: Atlas Sound – Let the Blind Lead Those Who Can See but Cannot Feel (2008)

/ Nathaniel FitzGerald
Bradford Cox is, for lack of a better word, prolific. Not only does he manage to fill the role of primary frontman and guitarist in Deerhunter, he also maintains an equally impressive solo project at the same time.
Between his main band and his Atlas Sound moniker, Cox has released new material every year since 2007. 2008 saw four releases, with Deerhunter’s double-release of Microcastles and Weird Era, Cont., and this LP/EP set.
​What’s even more remarkable than his great prolificacy is his consistency. Every album released in the past five years has been truly great, even as far as his musical center has traveled in those years.
With this in mind, it’s just about impossible to talk about Atlas Sound without talking about Deerhunter. Unlike other main band/solo project relationships, there is a constant dialogue between Cox’s full-time job and his hobby.
This album, his first official solo release (he had recorded under this nom-de-plume since he was a teenager) finds him delving once more into the ambient meanderings of Deerhunter’s excellent Cryptograms. But, while that LP featured hazy atmospherics that would recede to punk-tinged pop songs, here those atmospheres serve as the basis of those songs instead of transitional pieces. It’s an incredibly laid back record. When necessary, tape loops and drum machines are called in to add a beat to swirling drone of heavily effected guitar and synth pads that serves as the focal point of most of the songs.
Cox’s use of his voice supplements the haunting textures. Whether he’s singing single vowels or stretching his words across measures, he takes his time to say what he wants to say, which is unclear–the lyrics are ambiguous and the vocal track is drowned in the mix. Instead, the emphasis is on the wash of sound flowing out of the speakers, and it is an excellent wash of sound, to say the least.
Another Bedroom EP, included on the vinyl version of the release, is very much in the same vein. However, this time around the wooshing guitars and ambient vocalizations are paired with softly played drums and the occasional acoustic guitar. Unlike most other EPs, the non-lead tracks don’t feel like filler. Rather they are all fully fleshed ideas that flourish in the same way as the single (even the loop-based Spring Break).
​
Previous listens to this album (all digital, as I procured the physical copy less than an hour ago) rolled over me like a warm breeze; it was a pleasant experience, but I wasn’t left with too much of substance. This closer listen reveals much to latch onto. It’s a subtly wonderful record that exists in the realm of ambient without falling into the realm of boring. But what is important to remember is that this is primarily a bedroom record–Cox performed, sang, and recorded every sound here himself–and while it maintains certain elements of DIY, the record never forces you to listen through the limitations of the recording process. Instead, it is a beautiful and pleasing affair that I’m certain will become a frequent visitor of my turntable.