There’s no way to guess how a fresh Deerhunter track will sound. Will it borrow a bassline from a 1950s prom ballad or will it skim fuzz from some shoegaze staple? Will it more resemble the Stooges or Brian Eno? The only sure bet: Bradford Cox’s swooning lyrical fatalism. While Cox sighs about disease and dead skateboarders, this EP’s five songs venture in five different directions, from lullaby-with-tabla to codeine-doped Hawaiian ambience. A few tracks seem unfinished, but Deerhunter’s obsession with oblivion remains as intact as always.
