For all of Deerhunter’s Bradford Cox’s talk about his music being influenced by loneliness, he’s always been a rather outspoken guy. Diagnosed with the genetic disorder Marfan Syndrome at an early age, Cox has never hid either his spindly features, his sexuality or his opinions on other musicians (read: Morrissey) from the public eye.
With that being said, Cox’s music has always felt much more tightly wound than has his outward persona. Deerhunter, though generally willing to bend constraints of the “indie rock” genre, has usually relied on intricate moments of contrast for emotional release. Take the 2008 track “Nothing Ever Happened,” which uses a razor-sharp krautrock rhythm and rigid bass track to eventually give way to a two-minute guitar solo that’s every bit as tight as the preceding elements. The song packs a punch, but it does so in a subtle, controlled manner. The same could be said about much of Deerhunter’s more mature work.
Now, however, with the release of Monomania, we finally have a Deerhunter record befitting of Cox’s somewhat vociferous personality and messy songwriting approach (he has been said to write in a “stream-of-consciousness” manner). It’s a truly clamorous album, with intentionally chaotic production that boldly puts the “noise” in Deerhunter’s “noise rock” tendencies. And yet underneath it all remains Cox’s immaculate attention to detail, his commendable knowledge of form and his ability to draw an even skeptical listener in. So, while some may find the record just a bit too loud and disorderly for its own good, and while the record lacks any true stand-out tracks, Monomania stands as yet another enjoyable and well-written entry in Cox’s somewhat prolific songwriting career.
The album opens up with the three-minute “Neon Junkyard,” and the title sums it up rather well; this music’s got a lo-fi, trashy aesthetic that’s turned up to 11. Underneath Cox’s manipulated vocals, cacophonous guitars and jangly rhythms, however, you can immediately understand how he’s managed to shore up such a fan base—his riffs (even under piles of effects) have a certain catchiness to them, and his vocal delivery has a relatable charm. It sort of feels like the work of just your average schmuck down at the local bar, if your average schmuck really knew how to write music.
This aesthetically perverted sort of populism appears frequently throughout Monomania. Whether he’s turning on his Southern swagger for “Leather Jacket II,” paying homage to Queen on “Dream Captain” (“I’m a poor boy from a poor family / There’s nobody left to take care of me”) or sounding a bit like early 2000s Eels (as on “Blue Agent” and “T.H.M.”), Cox has an innate ability to draw you into his world even as the production makes his music sound like it’s screaming to get out. Even if you don’t quite grasp the influences Cox draws from, you’ll feel like you’ve heard elements of his work before.
Highlights include the aforementioned “Neon Junkyard,” “Dream Captain” and the Americana-inspired “Pensacola.” Third track “The Missing” feels most like traditional Deerhunter, with a softer aesthetic approach and subtly morose lyrical delivery that combine to make the song feel all the more stirring.
It’s where Cox indulges a little too much in his newfound chaos that the record feels a bit alienating. The previously mentioned “Leather Jacket II” is built around a pretty fantastic riff, but as the song continues on it ends up devolving into perhaps the roughest bit of guitar experimentation on the record. The album’s title track, as well as its closer, also suffer from being just too damn loud. Now, if you’re into noise-rock, it’s possible you’ll see these as true album highlights, but for more middle-of-the-road listeners, these moments might leave you running for cover.
As a result, Monomania as an album simply isn’t for everyone. There are individual tracks on the record, however, that are. If you’re tired of the computerized mirror-sheen of most modern pop music, Monomania’s unique brand of controlled chaos might be the cure for your ills. It’s a brash, enjoyable but sometimes alienating record, and even if its edges might be a bit too rough, what lies inside is well worth hearing.
