'Microcastle', actually Deerhunter's third long-player but their first on 4AD, has been garnering rather a lot of praise from the blogs. Already reasonably well-known (particularly in their native Atlanta) for their often incendiary live shows, this album has been touted as the one to, if not launch, then at least push them towards the mainstream. This sort of hype always makes reviewing a little difficult: mark the album too highly, and you are accused of following the trend. But at the same time, there must be something about the album that is making almost every internet-based music reviewer fall over themselves in praise. On top of 'Microcastle', the full album proper, the band have also rather generously decided to include a bonus CD, 'Weird Era Cont.', which throws into the mix another thirteen tracks, a veritable album's worth of new material.
The proceedings are opened with the what appears to be a loping, woozy opener, relaxed but with a driving guitar undercurrent. 'Cover Me Slowly' features a languid lead guitar that ambles dozily through the melody. Next up is 'Agoraphobia', a melodic, slightly shoegazesque track, guitars ringing in the mix. Nevertheless, it feels soft and gentle, wonderfully complemented by Lockett Pundt's rather murmured lyrics. The song gradually brews into a buzzing, humming, swirling sprawl at the end. Listeners should get used to hearing apparently innocent pop songs degenerating into anarchy towards the end, as if finishing a song in a normal fashion is almost beneath Deerhunter. Songs such as 'Agoraphobia' and 'Little Kids' have a habit of collapsing under a wash of feedback and ambient noise, hence perhaps the 'ambient-punk' genre that the band have coined for their music. 'Never Stops' appears to experience a full-blown, piercing riot, à la The Jesus And Mary Chain.
'Microcastle', the title-track for the album pulls out the popular "quiet, loud" formula. A broody, almost moping build-up is accompanied by a light, solitary sounding guitar. Once again though, half-way through the song, the noise submerges the gentle beginnings and we're left with a track that reminds me of one or two songs from No Age's 'Nouns' album, another rather anarchic, at times in the gutter, at times in the stars, album.
'Calvary Scars' begins with an odd scraping percussion, and it all feels a bit loosey-goosey. The guitar meanders about and the dreamy, slurred lyrics hover in the air, before the whole thing segues into the vignettesque Green Jacket. Based on a repetitive piano line, this track feels like a mid-album comedown, a respite to the at times aggressive noise-rock of the previous tracks. Whispy vocal echoes drift from the speakers as the piano melody collapses to a halt. It's all very beautiful.
'Activa' is one of those non-songs that Deerhunter throw in occasionally, particularly in the 'Weird Era Cont.' bonus album that will be discussed later. Here, revolving around the rather depressing 'We've wasted our times, we've wasted our lives' theme, the song dies as it lived. The plaintive lyrics are backed by lutesque guitar chords and wind-chime percussion, and the whole thing serves more as a warm-up for 'Nothing Ever Happened' than an actual song in itself.
Indeed, the album as a whole is stubbornly difficult to tie down. Wilfully anarchic, it throws up angry noise-punk interspersed with ambient vignettes and laconic weariness, almost as if fearing that the listener will get bored if one song is too like its predecessor. It's a bold, exciting attempt that for the most part keeps the listener on their toes.
Perhaps the best song of the album, 'Nothing Ever Happened' is straight up rock, driving, aggressive, edgy, embittered and angsty, which once again delves into squalling, shoegaze territory. This is a track whose melody lines repeat on the listener, like a damn good meal, hypnotically persistent and highly addictive. The whole thing feels like it's accelerating, throbbing, spiralling away from the listener, but the drumbeat remains spot on, keeping the song on a tight rein and, in turn, keeping the listener anchored through the storm.
'Neither Of Us, Uncertainly' is another song with Lockett Punkt on vocal duties. This time, his stoner-mumble is balanced precariously on a 3-step waltz that again blurs the boundaries between ambience, noise and pop before tumbling into a bubbling denouement of feedback and electronic noise. Even then, the song itches to burst forth again, back into life, but instead morphs into a light, childlike piano ditty that merges into the final song of the album: 'Twilight At Carbon Lake'.
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'Twilight At Carbon Lake' displays a bit more life, taking a step away from Cox's rambled delivery. The build up is once again quiet, but this time around does not renege on its promise and explodes into more noise, culminating in an almost euphoric, climactic last stand which overwhelms the lyrics.
'Weird Era Cont.' is an altogether less cohesive affair (if you could indeed use such a word for the 'Microcastle' album). The songs feel less formed, more fleeting, less accessible but at the same time, it coalesces into a rather drifting, chaotic landscape of half-finished ideas, sounds, and noise. Perhaps it should be considered as their reward (albeit highly experimental) to their fans for purchasing Microcastle, an album that is positively rigid and inflexible in its structure compared to this. Don't bother trying to pin the tracks down; instead, listen to this second disc in its entirety, and embrace the ambient, dense sounds that seep from the speakers. That said, there are one or two tracks that can just about be treated on their own merits (although finding an albeit hypothetical bona fide single on this album would probably be more than any record company head could take).
'Vox Humana', one of the few aforementioned "discernible" tracks from the mix, kicks off with that distinctive drumbeat borrowed from 'Be My Baby' (and indeed Bat For Lashes' 'What's A Girl To Do?', amongst others). What sounds like a stream of (barely) conciousness narrates a bizarre tale involving skeletons, beaches and a basketmaker's shop whilst rickety staccato piano chords prop the whole thing up. It's one of those songs that reminds you of the dreams you have after eating too much cheese. Or perhaps the sort of nightmare that I would have had as a child after watching a stupidly gory b-movie horror from the eighties, if I'd actually been allowed to watch stupidly gory b-movie horrors when I was young.
'Slow Swords' is a fidgety, busy song, which bizarrely, is almost completely devoid of melody. 'Weird Era is merely a sound collage of whirring, creaking and moaning guitars, nothing more than ambient (although barely listenable) noise which slips into 'Moon Witch Cartridge', a military-step study, hand-claps augmenting the sliding, rather piercing guitar notes.
Finally, we come to Calvary Scars II/Aux. Out 13, the thirteenth track of 'Weird Era Cont.', if anyone is counting. This, unsurprisingly, is a re-imagining of 'Calvary Scars' found on the 'Microcastle' album. At ten minutes plus, it is easily the longest track on the album, and successfully exploits many of the content and styles that are on both albums. Starting off slowly, cautiously, it remains that way for four minutes, content to rely on soaring vocals and a pulsing, metronomic guitar that acts like a drumbeat. Having hit the four-minute mark, it suddenly speeds up and life flows back into the song. Tinkling bells spit and splutter behind the sludgy guitars. The song, which threatens to develop, but never does, instead ploughs on for another five minutes or so before fading into a ambient, peaceful, breathless wash.
All in all, the two discs offer an intriguing, fascinating listen. Not always entirely listenable, they nevertheless showcase a band that aren't afraid to keep the listener on their toes. 'Weird Era Cont.' may be a bit much to struggle through for non-fans, but those looking for an idea of where probably the hottest band on the blogwaves are going next will probably find much to ponder there. 'Microcastle', whilst hardly lacking in invention, is a more formed, defined offering that nevertheless makes for an enjoyable, anarchic listen.
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