Bradford Cox has always followed his own course. On early Deerhunter albums like Turn It Up Faggot and Cryptograms, there’s a lot of anger, tension and dissonance, the melodies buried in the mix. New album Fading Frontier finds melody front and center and begins with a triptych of songs full of gorgeous guitar work, layered vocals, and a measure of contentedness.
The very first words of the album find Cox talking about home. “All the Same” starts with, “My home, anywhere, expect no comfort save but air / Take it any way, I could leave or I could stay.” There’s the physical place of a house, and then there’s the idea of home; the former is a thing that can be taken away, the latter a state of mind which you can take with you.
However, mellow as the music might be, there’s still tension in the lyrics. In “Breaker,” death looms (“My enemies, they’re trying to kill me”). In “Living My Life,” Cox sings, “The amber waves of grain are turning gray again.” As possibilities dwindle, the present and future fade, there’s still a kind of joy about it — a wisening, an acceptance. Does he contradict himself? Well, yes. Let’s agree that the man contains multitudes.
For example, on “Snakeskin,” Cox sings, “I was born already nailed to the cross / I was born with a feeling I was lost.” However, in the video for the song, he sings straight into the camera with a wicked grin on his face, daring you to try to understand how he could be so damn happy, given the circumstances he’s describing.
You can, perhaps, point to any number of milestones in Cox’s personal life. Last December, he was in a very serious car crash and spent a long time recovering the hospital. Since then he bought a house in Atlanta, rescued a dog and named him “Faulkner.” These are not the actions of someone who thinks he’s going to die tomorrow, or be on tour forever. These are the actions of an optimist. The music is similarly optimistic, especially when compared to some of Cox’s earlier songs.
Of course, every Deerhunter album has to have at least one extended psychedelic number. On this album, it’s “Ad Astra,” written by Lockett Pundt. “Ad Astra” means “To the Stars” in Latin, and the song soars until five minutes in when it fades into Cox singing the folk song “I Wish I Was A Mole In The Ground” (famously recorded by Bascom Lamar Lunsford in 1928). It’s an unexpected transition, but it’s a nod to Cox’s southern heritage and his omnivorous musical tastes. It also serves as a segue into “Carrion,” the album’s final song.
In “Carrion,” Cox functions as a mole, and the title is a pretty obvious double entendre: Carrion literally means dead meat, but here it’s pronounced “carry on,” meaning that he’s not dead yet. The entire album has come full circle. He’s found a home, but at what cost? And why does he still have so many questions?
There’s an idea in Buddhism that once you reach enlightenment, you are still the same person — you still have to do the dishes, walk the dog and pay the bills. The same could be said for facing your own mortality, or getting older: You grow up, you buy a house; maybe you have kids, or maybe just a dog. But at the end of the day, you’re still you. You have the same questions. If you’re lucky, you’ll transcend the questions.
Bradford Cox is ever-changing, but he’s still the same man, questioning the same things, following his muse and cracking a knowing smile. With Fading Frontier, Deerhunter as an aesthetic continues to prevail and evolve.