Happy Thoughts with Atlas Sound

Around this time last year on a rather bleak autumn night, I was sent along to an unrenovated dance hall above a gently mouldering pub quite close to Kentish Town tube station to check out what was then the latest in the never ending succession of groups to bear the title ‘emerging American rock band’.  The venue was awful, all elbows and spilt Carling; the band was Deerhunter and was sublime.

Since then I’ve had a bit of a fixation on Bradford Cox, the band's inimitable frontman.  On the above mentioned night he was a riveting presence, obsessively fiddling with his amp and telling an amusing story about how he didn’t meet Lou Reed*, in between ripping the utter shit out of his guitar.  It was fun.  Which is what rock music should be.

Not long after that I discovered that Cox had this whole other project happening by the name of Atlas Sound**.  Wistful, ghostly and disaffected electronica-hued pop probably sums it up.  Oh, and deeply catchy, though more in a ‘gets under your skin without you really realising it’ than a ‘I can’t get this freaking song outta my head’ sort of way.

I liked, but wasn’t blown away by Let The Blind Lead Those Who Can See But Cannot Feel, his elaborately titled solo debut – it possesses a kind of quiet, rambling, pent-up angst, like a child locked in a large empty house on a rainy day, suggesting a richly detailed but closely guarded interior universe.  It’s a difficult album to love, its insularity acting to repel the casual listener; similarly it’s hard to grow tired of, its many small joys emerging with repeated listens.

So anyway, Atlas Sound has a new album.  It’s called Logos.  Whether this is in ironic reference to the late Jacques Derrida’s rippingly fun demolition of the foundations of western thought is open for debate.  What is certain is that it is something quite special indeed.  It’s a pop record.  While not exactly sunny, it’s certainly more expansive and generous than Cox’s previous effort****, and even includes a couple of collaborative efforts with other nice people.

Anxiety is still the order of the day however, Cox being more interested in creating a certain ambiance and mood than expressing his dissatisfaction more directly.  Take opener The Light That Failed for instance, its gentle murmurings conjuring a golden sunset framing waves lapping at a quiet shore, an image tinged with disquiet.  An Orchid, which immediately follows is a masterful exercise of evocation, Cox’s breathily indistinct vocals echoing blurrily over a whimsical little pop song laced with despondency, a model used on such subsequent tracks as Criminals and My Halo.

It is perhaps unsurprising in this context that the most interesting and invigorating material on the album comes in the form of the two tracks written in partnership with Noah Lennox aka Panda Bear of Animal Collective and Laeticia Sadier of Stereolab, Cox rising to the challenge of working with people intent on dragging him out of himself.

Walkabout, the track with Lennox is a jaunty ditty, the pair’s morning-after blood-shot chant being punctuated by the occasional eruption of kaleidoscopic electric euphoria that is Lennox’ specialty.  In fact, it could almost be called *gasp* optimistic.  Such could also be said of Sheila, which leapfrogs over its burdensome verse (‘no one wants to die alone’) with a heady and insanely catchy chorus (‘we’ll die alone, together’).  Ok, so maybe optimistic is the wrong word.

By contrast Sadier’s contribution, Quick Canal, is a very different beast to the rest, synths tracing lazy arcs over a driving beat that unstoppably propels things forward for nearly nine minutes.  Meanwhile Sadier’s beatific voice issues forth with disappointed reproach against a figure who’s ‘wasting his life’, perhaps pandering to Cox’s self-flagellating, masochistic, confess-uncomfortably-intimate-details-in-public streak, but in context functioning as a breath of fresh, external air.

Which is not to say that Logos is stuffy.  On the contrary, it's the work of an extremely talented individual who is only just beginning to stretch his creative wings.  Who knows, next time he might fly right out the window and take off into the clouds.


Stuff to do when it's raining:  Cox's emaciated frame adorning the cover of the album couldn't help but remind me of Rubber Johnny.  Sorry Brad;  Giggle your way through A Case of Exploding Mangoes;  read things such as this.  I do not envy that nice Mr Obama one little bit.


* he was buying a book about Lou Reed at the time, thus missing his chance to make the acquaintance of the genuine article.  Poor bugger.
** the man’s blog is well worth checking out, his cheerful proclamations on the state of music usually being insightful, controversial and amusing.
*** he regularly make available Atlas Sound singles free to download, also compiling ‘Micromixes’ which are quite wonderfully packaged little mixtapes of eclectic goodies.
**** or at least displays expansive and generous tendencies.