Graham Reid | | <1 min read
This is either a strange coincidence or some weird serendipity -- but this solo album by Brandford Cox of the Atlanta band Deerhunter sounds like it has been made after he eavesdropped on my listenings in the past few weeks: a bit of JPSE's widescreen fuzzypop from Bleeding Star as filtered through Fripp & Eno's tonal landscapes, plus a colouring of Eno's moonscape Apollo, a seasoning of gentle acoustic pop whispered in your ears as Miracle Mile can do, some distant John Lennon ballad like #9 Dream . . .
Extraordinary coincidences -- and this is an extraordinary album all round.
A kind of ambient dreamscape which opens with a wee boy telling a ghost story, it moves in and out of dream states and death, confession and perhaps even a cathartic release of emotion for Cox who did the whole, quietly dramatic thing at home on a laptop.
There are deft loops which bubble away gently, barely audible lyrics, melodies hinted at rather than overtly revealed, and much more to immerse yourself in.
The NZ version of this one also comes with a bonus disc of six equally moody and mesmerising tracks.
Deerhunter make dronepunk and suchlike, but I do hope Cox takes time out from that to make more albums like this one.