has always been an enigma for me, one of those bands that make it hard to find any bona fide sonic compatriots to play the 'sounds like' game back and forth. Bradford Cox exacerbates the mystery in his own right, unable to really take hold of any frontman paradigm. Sure, he dabbles in the brooding sad/dark thing, but the object of his pain always seems to be this nostalgic lack, an obscured longing, and the product of his alienation always seems to just render more, rather than draw the audience any closer. Cox is a gay punk dude from Atlanta, a tall and thin walking contradiction, who seems to be both unable and unwilling to really just let us in and take a good look around. Halcyon Digest
comes to us with the veneer of Cox's own frosted glass, fully and completely a product of a true individual.
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