Deerhunter - 'Cryptograms/Fluorescent Grey' (Kranky)

Somehow Deerhunter have crept into my life and become this powerful, meaningful band - the kind of rich n' deep artistes that fulfill almost everything I'm looking for in music (but struggle to continually find as I get older). Big words I guess, but I mean them -- there hasn't been an indie/rock artist that I've connected to this much in years. My love affair really began with Microcastle, but Cryptograms, the predecessor, is also fantastic. It's a strangely structured album, and this 2xLP reissue spreads it awkwardly over three sides, making it even harder for me to view it through the traditional bipartite rock album lens. Deerhunter would have never belonged on Kranky during their early Labradford/Bowery Electric/Tomorrowland days, but in recent years the label has embraced more song-based efforts and this record's pretty much a perfect fit. Bradford Cox began his ascent into the pantheon of great contemporary songwriters here, but it was a sneaky climb. Some of the catchiest songs on Cryptograms are crammed into the back, like 'Strange Lights' and 'Haze St.' - the former could have been a bright, brassy college radio hit, at least in my college days. In terms of album sequence,  Deerhunter here continually shift between the songs and the more ambient workouts, of which 'White Ink' and 'Red Ink' are the centerpieces. The most brilliant thing about Deerhunter is not this dichotomy though, nor the moments of integration when the sound exploration is built around a strong song (such as the dazzling title track, or the thunderous 'Octet'); the brilliance is in Cox's songwriting, which attains some of the most true melancholy I've ever listened to, but in a subtle way. Emotionally, Cryptograms doesn't jump out at me as much as the later records, but I haven't really invested myself in this album as much as the subsequent two. I know that any investment will pay off as it has for Microcastle and Halcyon Digest - this is a band in a brilliant run of music right now and I don't know where it's going to end. Cryptograms is building up to this wave, but not quite there yet. However, this lovely gatefold release is packaged with the Fluorescent Grey EP, and this is precisely the moment where the brilliant run begins. These four songs are about as perfect as things get, Deerhunter's Watery, Domestic. I really do think of Deerhunter like Pavement because I think Cox might be my favourite songwriter since them, and there seems to be as much depth, to me, in these songs, as in Malkmus's 'Greenlander' or 'Home'. The title track of the EP is where the creep factor begins - it's an exploration of death and obsession, lyrics almost perfectly underwritten, and it's just a great achievement. 'Dr. Glass' sets down a misleading groove with a fun woodblock/handclap accent, though it's about useless bodies. And this is what I love again - the subtle darkness, disguised by a flamboyant, psychedelic colour, yet it's not exactly like other psych music. 'Wash Off' is among my favourite Deerhunter songs too, and an excellent way to end (more so than 'Heatherwood' ends Cryptograms, which seems to demand a nonexistent coda). It's sharp and smooth at the same time, twisting around with wicked caresses. "I was sixteen" is the refrain, the counterpoint to "You were my god/in high school", making this EP really about adolescence, which of course rhymes with fluorescence. So fucking good. Please keep it coming.

Bugskull - 'Distracted Snowflake Volume One' (Pop Secret/Darla)

I think this is probably Bugskull's finest moment. It's not quite as messy (sonically) as the last few albums, but boasts a pop confidence not heard ever before. There's a more emphatic approach to the instrumental work as well, as the opening track 'Icecream Daydream' sets the stage, sounding like a looser Yo La Tengo circa Painful. The electronica aspects are much more personal than before; field recordings, affected keyboards and weird synth sequences create songs that are some of the most mystically odd electronic music I've ever heard. 'Goodbye' is like a bizarro Boards of Canada track, every bit as detailed and perfectionist. But it's also got the most song-based side of Bügsküll that we've heard to date. 'Grand Canyon' is a straight-up folk song, somewhat improvised lyrically, with the sound of wind (perhaps recorded at the Canyon itself?) that is deceptively simple; it's nuanced and honest, and a far cry from Crock's soup-maelstrom. And 'Winky's Wild Ride (The Quest)' is the best Bügsküll song ever - with probably the most forward vocal part, and also some magically ascending toneclouds - it's the essence of the sublime. The closer, 'Sun', starts like Charlemagne Palestine on a hot air balloon - warm to the touch, and occasionally flaring up before plateauing into a sophisticated mid-level psych workout. The percussion is Eastern-tinged hand drumming, a nice complement to the hard electro-beats that pepper the other parts of the record. The recording quality is stunning, letting the instruments breathe and find their own space -- but it could also be that over the years, Mr. Byrne has upgraded his equipment somewhat. The liner notes contain a silly/nonsensical story about a garden gnome that I could live without, but it sets a mood I guess, and the album more than delivers. All of these Bugskull records offer something to enjoy, but this one seems to take every aspect of what he does and do it better than the rest.

Tim Buckley - 'Blue Afternoon' (Straight)

You can see there's been some gap since the last post, which is attributable to a holiday, but actually I've listened to Blue Afternoon about five times before being able to write about it - twice before the break and thrice since. Blue Afternoon is a 'sleeper' if there ever was one. Somber in tone, the avant-tendencies are stroked a bit further and one can't deny the Astral Weeks fuzz in the windscreen. Or maybe it's like if Happy Sad was just Sad Sad. A gentle guitar strum guides every song, but there's still some noodly bass and piano parts, and the occasional guitar flourish, like when Lee Underwood rips it up on 'So Lonely'. 'The River' is an epic in under six minutes, full of percussive swells, grand scenery and confident pain. 'The Train' takes us closer to 'Gypsy Woman' territory but that opening riffstrum is a classic rock gesture if I've ever heard it. I think the reason many of us are still interested in Tim Buckley in 2010 is just how far he pushed himself over a handful of albums. Things are so fluid here, the songwriting is freeform, there's jazzglue everywhere and its truly genre-defying. But you can go back to find more details every time. The wooly recording quality makes everything feel like it's from another time and of course his tragic death inflates the star. Maybe I've always been a halfassed fan of avant-garde music because it's most powerful to me when it combines some sort of forward-thinking whatthefuck innovation with something human that I can connect to. Pure experimentation can alienate me (sometimes) whereas using musical invention to extend human expression, well, fuck yeah, that has the emotional wallop I want. The crazy jamjazz breakdown about 3/4 through 'The Train' is almost out of place but when Buckley comes back in, wailing and gibberishing over extended dissonant jamming, something blows the hair out of my eyes (and it comes from the stereo speakers, readers). It's a weird contrast with the first half of the album, which are mopey yet beautiful songs, but it somehow feels cyclical, which is why I've listened to this 5 times now. Mine is a promo copy on Straight, with crystal-clear looking vinyl that somehow sounds crackly and dirty - maybe it's just a cheap promo pressing? Supposedly the material from this was recorded at the same time as Lorca and Starsailor's outer explorations so you can appreciate his sense of grouping. And now it's onto those....