Why Hasn't Everything Already Disappeared?

It is so unmistakably Deerhunter without sacrificing any of their mythos or crucial genetic makeup. And we sure can't find any fault with that.

They continue to look forward and create music that feels unlike anything else out there. This one is no exception: it's the perfect antidote for these bleak, modern times.

It’s utterly, completely, resolutely and defiantly them. It’s futuristic but warm, nostalgic but distant, pretentious but human.

Underneath it all, Deerhunter are still a band that are completely beholden to music's ability to spiritually transcend even the worst state of things. If you really pay attention, you will be infected by this attitude, eat some hummus, and maybe start something yourself.

This is a record that sounds like it could be performed in living rooms, in department store foyers, on mall stages, at any moment, anywhere. The songwriting stands strong enough that the context of the music matters less and less, and the instrumentation becomes secondary to the tonal and lyrical moves--chamber music for the microdosing set.

From the weariness and wonder in its title to the mix of delicacy and anger in its songs, Why Hasn't Everything Already Disappeared? is one of Deerhunter's most haunting and thought-provoking albums.

Its strangeness is all-pervasive, yet understated. It‘s Deerhunter’s quietest record to date, and not exactly lacking in hooks--’Element’ and ‘Plains’ are earworm-ish. And yet everything’s ineffably odd. ... But it all adds to the the album’s allure--a singular thing, not quite of this world, desert fruit ripening quietly on the eve of the end.

Already Disappeared, which was co-produced with Cate Le Bon in the sprawling desert expanse of Marfa, Texas, is not an easy album. It’s often bleak and experimental: Cox’s vocals burst through like distorted, burbling fragments of static, or appear muffled amid the instrumentation. This is a new side of Deerhunter that gives the listener much to contemplate.

Tonal changes aside, those worried if Deerhunter have stepped away from their feverish art rock needn't worry. Futurism is one of their most sparkling tracks to date, as it enjoys one of those chromatic guitar riffs (accomplished with the assistance of White Fence's Tim Presley) they've been writing since their Microcastle days.

Disappeared rewires many of Deerhunter’s aural hallmarks. The band has often sounded either gently sprawling, as on Fading Frontier and Halcyon Digest, or aggressive and claustrophobic, as on Monomania. Here, they manage to hit both moods at once.

Deerhunter have often dealt in lofty, intense blows, but on album eight, they provide a breezy distraction from the chaos outside, and it’s most welcome.

This album isn’t a call-to-arms or doom merchantry, but rather a poetic statement of fact--short stories of and for the anthropocene, the product of a resignation to our inevitable demise.

Why Hasn't Everything Already Disappeared? has its high-minded lyrical concerns (the problems of the present, the problem with romanticising the past) and musical flourishes informed by the Old Continent and corners of Americana, but the greater picture and its many curious details--Cox's theatrical enunciations in "Element", the stream-of-consciousness zig-zag globe trot of "Détournement", the Eastern Bloc hallucinations of "Tarnung"--come together only upon repeated listens. In that sense, then, it's a classic album-fan's album, attention spans be damned.

If there are moments where the album overplays its hand--a warped spoken-word track titled Detournement perhaps lays it on a bit thick--there’s a confidence about its stylistic leaps that means it feels like the expression of an authentically idiosyncratic imagination rather than someone being weird and eclectic for the sake of it.

Come the closing ‘Nocturne’, Bradford is wailing into a malfunctioning microphone like the late, great Mark Linkous of Sparklehorse phoning a wasted lullaby home with one unreliable bar of phone coverage, and ‘…Disappeared?’ becomes less Cox’s ‘High Violet’, more his ‘Low’. This is how you turn pop into art.

Why Hasn't Everything Already Disappeared? is more exploratory than Fading Frontier, but there's a minimalism that helps its stark ideas and sad-eyes melodies shine through. [Feb 2019, p.88]

It is their poppiest, most direct album yet, with a '60s swing permeating throughout its 10 tracks, but Cox has never sounded so disconnected from the world. ... It is a lean and often brilliant album. [Feb 2019, p.110]

Some of Deerhunter's prettiest songs to date. [Feb 2019, p.13]

This is rhythmically agile music, thankfully. The songwriting is sturdy, too, even if it can sometimes feel like Bradford & friends are running on an autopilot setting set to David Bowie’s Low.

Thoughtful, strange, spiritual, immersive, rewarding upon repeated and thoughtful engagement.

Though less immediate, Why Hasn’t Everything Already Disappeared? still bristles with the spirit that makes Deerhunter’s work mystifying. Along with Fading Frontier, the album presents a new era for Deerhunter, one more contemplative and spacious yet continually beguiling.

This is a Deerhunter album, so closer listening reveals much more going on beneath the surface. To be fair, though, Why Hasn’t Everything Already Disappeared? isn’t as viscerally challenging as many of the band’s prior efforts.

Despite the heavy-handed intents, the album is surprisingly accessible overall. The arrangements generally maintain a pastoral pastiche, an uptempo feel that’s both compelling and catchy. Indeed, the shimmer that illuminates the vast majority of the material is generally elegiac.

More memorable would be a complete artistic statement that’s further informed by each track. Instead, each song revels in a singular level of creativity and scattershot collaboration, driving us further away from a central theme.

The majority of this new record feels stuck in a chordal rut. The dynamic tension between the musical surface and the tonal depth is alive and well, but Disappeared serves as an excellent reminder that good rock music needs more than just ideas to thrive.