No doubt there will be some bemoaning the ever-shrinking distance between Deerhunter and Atlas Sound, but the common ingredients have kept them latched since day one (and not just because of Bradford). The messy psych-pop stained with guitar maelstroms and searing drone that once characterized Deerhunter has melted beneath their increasingly bright spotlight—they’re no easier today, but they’re certainly cozier. Once painful but impressive-to-behold scuffed-up boots, now worn bedroom slippers, Deerhunter seems no more comfortable with their roles as one of pop music’s greatest hopes—if for no better reason than because it seems unlikely that anyone on the pop charts is even paying attention—but there’s no resistance left. Devastatingly sad at times but always warm and woolly, Halcyon Digest is another notch in the belt of rock n’ roll’s undying optimism; hope springs eternal.
Emphasizing the “ambient” part of their self-described “ambient punk” entry in pop music’s catechism, the band is never relaxed enough to drift amiably but the muffled haze that characterized long stretches of their last full-length, Microcastle, appears here with greater consistency. Even the clarity is greater, which might seem to fly in the face of the aesthetic, but is developed as a way to ensure their pop chops are less invisible to the casual listener. Anyone interested could find entryways and keyholes in their earlier records, but every door seems to be left open (or at least ajar) across Halcyon’s unsettled landscape.
The album begins with lock steps and crashes that would sound more at home with a glitchy digital crew than ones who prefer live instruments, but shortly after that stuttered open, vibrating guitar dins and psychedelic swirls envelop Bradford Cox’s half-submerged vocal. Climbing chords arc over into arpeggios and the drag-click beat grows in intensity until Cox is flooded over entirely and his words melt directly into the gorgeous fuzz. “Don’t Cry” and “Revival” both up the ante by bringing out the backbeat even further while emphasizing Lockett Pundt’s docile, summery guitar tones via contrast. The latter is like clattering folk rock with an Appalachian kick chaser and Cox declares, “I am saved! I am saved! And, oh, would you believe it?” But before you think the evangelists have him, listen to him sing about “all these darkened hallways” and notice how the stomping part disappears right after.
Same as it was with their last, the album really takes off during the middle. Instead of gliding into the bathwater with trepidation, “Memory Boy” explodes with exultation (helpful, since it followed the album’s quietest, most sluggish offering, “Sailing,” which would have benefited from better track ordering), and is refreshingly slight after all of the heaviness that began building up. If that one is slight, the next number, “Desire Lines,” is a sprawling epic split in half by traditional verse/chorus aplomb and exploratory instrumental exercises. “Lines” is doubtlessly this LP’s “Nothing Ever Happened”—before you criticize my hasty reaction to compare, break them down to their essentials and you can’t deny their similarity. “Nothing” was twitchier and more elastic, springing from the heavy post-punk rock sizzle they rarely attempt anymore, while “Lines” has a dreamier, steadier approach. The former was the nervous pauper while this one is the confident prince. However you slice it, these two represent the obvious watershed moment of either consistently great effort.
“Basement Scene” makes an obvious nod to the Everly Brothers with it’s “dream a little dream” chorus (the inflection is copped, too) while “Helicopter” returns to the programmed percussion chatter of the opener while a harp-like guitar cascade gives it an ethereal austerity that few other artists could replicate (and probably fewer would even try in the first place). Late in the album, the band’s playbook edges slightly towards conventional territory in song structure and attack (“Fountain Stairs,” “Coronado”), but Deerhunter doing “conventional” ain’t exactly the safe water of slick commercialism. Besides, their repertoire opens even further during this period as instruments from tinny pianos to saxophones all the way to 12 string guitars are utilized in their sonic expansion. Last but not least, “He Would Have Laughed” initially seems like a Merriweather Post Pavilion clone until it expands, delightfully dawdles, reroutes, goes airborne, collapses, and wheezes drunk in the dust.
Cox’s lyrics are full of their usual contradictions and corrections—“I lived on a farm, yeah/I never lived on a farm,” “I don’t wanna get old…I wanna get old.” The former is murmured on closer “He Would Have Laughed,” something of a tribute to the late Jay Reatard. “I get bored as I get older,” sings Cox. “I won’t rest ‘til I can’t breathe.” “Don’t Cry” is full of sadness and offers no easy resolution—and, in Cox’s way, transposes vagueness for universality—but he doesn’t oversell, “Come on, little boy, I am your friend and I understand the pain you’re in.” The same broad strokes paint “Helicopter” with even greater sorrow: “No one cares for me/I keep no company/I have minimal needs/And now they are through with me.” The liner notes indicate that the song pertains to a young Russian man named Dima; if you know the full back story, the words will haunt you with unspeakable bleakness long after the final watery notes fade.
Halcyon Digest does not have as many immediately memorable compositions as Microcastle; it takes longer to “get into” and explore; the desire to revisit isn’t quite as rabid. But the depth of the songwriting, vivid but indescribable, takes this one in a sidelong direction—soothing sonics that can frustrate but a greater satisfaction for the intellect/heart. It feels sparsely intimate even though they widen their palette, giving it a demi-conversational appeal that offers numerous stark rewards (and a few that, despite mesmerizing, we wonder if we were properly prepared to accept them), but aside from a few choice cuts, it takes time for it to emerge as a “rock” or “pop” record, which was instantly evident with their last. But with winter fast approaching, it will be a great one to curl up inside, finding a balmy glow to dry the inevitable tears.
"Halcyon Digest" is on sale September 28, 2010 from 4AD.
