Bradford Cox has been a busy, busy boy. Not content with the wildly enthusiastic reaction to 2010’s Halcyon Digest from his ‘main’ outfit, Deerhunter, he has chosen to set the bar even higher with Parallax, the third album under his solo moniker, Atlas Sound.
From the outset it is clear that the hyper-prolific songwriter has decided, once again, to re-invent; the cover art is suggestive of a new debonair and forthright slant for the previously murky Cox. Indeed, this uncovered openness extends to the music itself; his songs are more immediate than ever in their melody, and are, arguably, all the better for it. One might expect an album defined by the artist as ‘Science Fiction’ to be knee-deep in enigma, yet, while subjects broached include space, time, love and religion, they are presented in an unabashedly accessible manner.
Opener ‘The Shakes’ sets a clear precedent of warm simplicity for the rest of the album, with a tumbling rhythm and early 90s guitars abound. In digging up and brushing down the vocals which were buried deep under mounds of feedback in previous albums, Cox makes the leap from noise-rock auteur to full-blown crooner, and does it with aplomb.
This is not to say that Atlas Sound has regressed; his trademark atmospheric ambience remains. The marked difference here, though, is that each sound, even the minute-long, stuttering ending to ‘Flagstaff’, is essential to the overall arrangement of the album, contributing to its overall coherence.
Parallax is irrefutably Cox’s personal pet project, but he is still happy to play the Samaritan, enlisting MGMT’s Andrew VanWyngarden (and providing him, presumably, with some much-needed work) to assist on piano duties on the album’s standout track ‘Mona Lisa’, a gorgeously catchy slice of retrospective guitar-pop. Overall, this album sees Cox broaden his musical horizons and embrace the more infectious side of his music, without too much compromise and to a gorgeous, startling effect.
