Deerhunter
Microcastle
Kranky
By Mike Randall
Amidst all the noise and seemingly directionless chaos of Deerhunter’s second album, Cryptograms, there was a sense that the band was going for a less structure-equates-more-punk aesthetic. Experimenting for the sake of trying not to sound normal can often lend a band to sounding as status quo as verse-chorus-verse, and the result was as divisive as it was at times un-listenable. But it seems frontman Bradford Cox enjoys the polarizing nature of his band, and with Microcastle, Deerhunter did the most punk-rock thing possible: he polished the shit out of the group’s sound without forsaking artfulness, and the result is extraordinary.
If Cryptograms was Deerhunter’s introduction to the world of experimental, abrasive noise rock, Microcastle is their Rather Ripped, a stylistically evolved record of tight, structured and melodic soundscapes that are simultaneously accessible yet still totally out there. Glassy chords, ringing open strings and lush arpeggios zigzag in accordance with Cox’s oft-inaudible, embedded vocals. Even though he’s low in the mix, his voice and enunciations function as a conductor to the orchestra of sound cascading around him. There are still many instances of swooshing noise blocks and pulsating drone, but they’re inserted into spots that work in conjunction with a musical piece, as opposed to a tool to shock or distract.
With Microcastle, Deerhunter’s experimental nature has less to do with screeching guitars and piles of feedback as it does with mood. Look no further than the minimalistic “Little Kids,” which toys with 60s psych-rock and early Kinks by making use of reverb-drenched guitar rakes and cheery, harmonized choruses. Cox sings about getting older shortly before the song simply dissolves, giving way to the record’s dream-like and trance-worthy title track. On “Microcastle,” recorded just a hair above a whisper, Cox sounds like he’s struggling to get the song out until the last minute, which explodes into a triumphant finale of interstellar guitars and fragmented vocal effects. The gorgeously gentle, slow moving arpeggio of “Green Jacket” offers a glimpse into the band proving they’re unabashedly still willing to take risks, as does the near organic sounding chime of “Calvary Scars,” which owns a clear Sigur Ros feel. The Floyd-ian blues-psych of “Saved By Old Times” (featuring guest voice from Cole Alexander of Atlanta colleagues, Black Lips) is certainly interesting, but it’s the album closing “Twilight At Carbon Lake” that shows just how far this band has come in one record. With a “Sleepwalkers” vibe, Microcastle goes out with a bang to a storm of crashing guitars and Cox’s heavenly vocal overtones.
The difference here just might have been the more collaborative nature in which Microcastle was recorded. Guitarist Whitney Petty was brought into the fold, and Cox even let his bandmates chime in during the writing process and share some of the vocal duties. The result is less of a sketch feel and more of a cohesive body of work. Shortly after a spaceship ride of an intro that falls somewhere between Radiohead’s “Sail To The Moon” and “Subterranean Homesick Alien,” the first voice we hear is guitarist’s Lockett Pundt. “Feed me twice a day/I want to fade away,” he sings during “Agoraphobia,” an ambient, Tortoise-like groove that finds Pundt waxing poetic about feelings of isolation. Pundt returns to the microphone during “Neither of Us, Uncertainly,” a dazzling track in the ilk of My Bloody Valentine, with a swirling guitar drone that shifts in total unison with the melody over a tight waltzing rhythm. No song is more evident of the collective band effort than the upbeat and groove intensive “Nothing Ever Happened,” easily the tightest and most clearly song-oriented piece the band has ever written. With a thumping intersection of angular melody, dyslexic guitar and highly percussive drum, bass and keyboard support, it’s simultaneously trippy and rocking.
To call Microcastle a punk record would be completely inaccurate, but then again that ethos was an attitude that existed more in mindset and execution than any tangible music on Cryptograms. Looking back, Deerhunter proves they really might not have been as self-indulgent as they were accused of with Cryptograms. There might have been some of that at work but with Microcastle they prove they’re not just a drifting ship. Anyone can create chaos but not anyone can control it. As with Sonic Youth and My Bloody Valentine before them, Deerhunter prove capable of both.
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