Just a year ago, when I toured the country with my band Elevado, the only consistent thing was musician Bradford Cox. His photo was featured in most every local print monthly magazine we came across, and his band Deerhunter was also listed in most online music blogs we read, having become favorites of the popular Pitchfork Media.

Recently, while in Philadelphia visiting my girlfriend, she told me Atlas Sound, Cox's latest spaced-out music project, was playing at Johnny Brenda's over in Fishtown. Johnny Brenda's is one of the coolest little venues I've ever seen and reminds me of the Earl in East Atlanta but with a fantastic second story, cathedral style balcony, and great local beers.

Next up was Honey Owens, Atlas Sound's bassist, who played guitar and looped music for her Kranky band Valet, her vocals drenched in effects. She took us deeper through the void into a demented world where one might visualize spirits and ghosts circling the cosmos from a comfortable seat looking through an ever-changing kaleidoscopic window. This music was haunting and hypnotic as Cox played drums while Atlas Sound's Brian Foote did double duties on guitars and keys.

Cox and the group were in excellent spirits as Atlas Sound took the stage. The band seemed to have a lot of fun and Cox's interaction with both the audience and the band members revealed a more at ease and casual front man. Unlike a Deerhunter show, where you may find yourself mesmerized by Cox's stage antics, odd costumes, and driving, danceable beats, Atlas Sound took us to a more intimate and pleasant place.  The band interaction was silly and goofy, and Cox even took playful jabs at Philadelphia culture.

Atlas Sound's songs, though theoretically simple, often require multiple listens before one adapts to the unique rhythm and minimalist repetition. There were electronic drum loops played with additional percussion from Stephanie Macksey. She added a very subtle charm, lending a certain Velvet Underground shaker/tambourine feel to the music while every member of the band seemed to compound its spacey/psychedelic nature.

The vocals were pretty low in the mix and it was virtually impossible to discern any lyrics as we watched from 10 to15 feet above the band but Cox's consistent use of his voice as an effected melodic instrument offered the audience a pleasant auditory experience and an almost meditative bliss. The way the band meanders with hippie imagery is somewhat perplexing, and one can't help but ask if the band is serious or simply making a mockery by playing up themes they know are too un-hip to avoid. Of course, at the rate of Cox's rise to cult icon, it won't be long before hipsters everywhere start shedding their skinny jeans and faux mullets for tie-dyes and sandals.

On my flight home to Atlanta, the airline offered a satellite radio connection. As I plugged my headphones in, oddly enough, Deerhunter's song "Strange Lights" was playing. It sounded fantastic as I stared out the window at the city lights and toy cars below, and it became clear that Cox is claiming his place in rock and roll history. It is exciting to see a prolific Atlanta artist having such a profound impact on music lovers and musicians across the country.