Another one getting play on the end of year lists.
I could never really get into Deerhunter, and Bradford Cox's Atlas Sound side project makes roughly the same music: cottoney, sleepy pop that wafts into your ear and and echoes and echoes and expands until your brain is filled with clouds. This album is no great divergence from that pattern, the songs seem afraid of committing to a riff or hook, pulsing quantum around the borders of a sound, letting probabilities strike your ears, remaining largely unmemorable, leaving you feeling basically like you just spent all night listening The Kinks while more stoned than you've ever been in your entire life.
This reverb pop style has been in for a few years now and I'm done with it, every song sounds like the 10th track filler interlude between real songs, but the real songs never come 2/5
You might like this if: you think The Kinks ruined all their best songs by making sure you could hear the melodies.
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