Too Weird for Weirdos: Deerhunter

| Print Post This | Like (0) | Comments (0)

BRADFORD COX LOVES his parents. Bradford Cox is concerned with his mortality. Bradford Cox has no clear idea whether he's gay, straight or what. Bradford Cox smokes dope, says sweet things, maintains a policy of complete openness, occasionally wears a dress onstage and rocks it hard.

Cox is neither an anorexic nor a junkie, though he understands why you might think so.

He is a divisive figure.

His band, Deerhunter, is either a critical darling or a critical disaster. It plays D.C. on Thursday, for those who prefer to think for themselves. It will not be boring.

"I'm not very good at being mysterious or aloof," Cox said. "My sense of humor gets misinterpreted a lot. ... People think we're put-ons."

He referred to a particularly snide review by a writer for the "L.A. Weekly," one of those jaded hipster douchebags," who clearly dislikes all the buzz surrounding the band. A lopsidedly hilarious dialogue between Cox and the writer is detailed on Deerhunter's blog, deerhuntertheband.blogspot.com.

Deerhunter is a band on a joyous search for a signature sound. Hidden beneath the guitar noise, the shoegazery and the heavy lyrics is an emerging pop sense.

"Our music is not that out there; it's not 'Metal Machine Music,'" said Cox, referring to Lou Reed's notorious album of punishing guitar drones. "But it's not artsy enough for the artsy people, and it's too weird for the pop people."

But most newcomers to a Deerhunter live show tend to fixate on Cox's otherworldly thinness, theatrically enhanced by costumes and wild abandon. Heroin? Eating disorder? "Some people preemptively assume pretension," Cox explained.

But Cox, like Joey Ramone, has Marfan Syndrome, which causes abnormally elongated limbs. And listening, one gets the sense that Deerhunter is the most logical outlet for Cox's ambient outsiderness — residue of being a strange-looking kid from a happy and supportive family who has to convince the rest of the world nothing is wrong. It's an inversion of the usual rocker formula. It's everyone else who's queer.

» Black Cat, 1811 14th St. NW; with Clockcleaner, Thu., 9 p.m., $10; 202-397-7328. (U St.-Cardozo)

Written by Express contributor Bob Massey

Photos courtesy Kranky Records (top) and Bryan Meltz