The cover of Deerhunter's forthcoming album, Fading Frontier

On previous albums, Cox’s lyrics were often cleverly obtuse; evocative bits of wordplay that generally hinted at his mental and emotional states without ever giving away too much. But on Fading Frontier—a record that seems preoccupied with tuning out, pressing pause, and generally taking stock—Cox is remarkably direct. On the stately highlight “Living My Life”, a happily domesticated Cox seems to have finally reached a state of balance after spending the past decade chasing after success and constantly being asked to explain himself. “I’m off the grid, I’m out of range,” he sings. “Will you tell me when you find out how to conquer all this fear?/ Will you tell me when you find out how to recover the lost years?/ I’ve spent all of my time chasing a fading frontier/ I’m living my life.”

In interviews, Cox can be both frighteningly forthcoming or maddeningly evasive, depending on his mood—which makes him both an amazing subject and someone prone to misinterpretation. Within the milieu of modern indie rock, a landscape still mostly populated with straight dudes concerned with appearing distantly cool, Cox has proven himself to be a lightning rod for controversy. Like so many artists, the things that make him fascinating are the same things that often get him into trouble—a combination of fearless opinionating and sometimes-shocking vulnerability, particularly in regards to his own health, sexuality, or emotional state. He may talk out of his ass sometimes or make jokes that are destined to live forever as horrible pull quotes, but he’s never boring. Cox is someone who elicits adoration and frustration, a subject as unpredictable as his own work.

These days, the songwriter lives in a beautifully restored home near Atlanta’s Grant Park. His house is meticulously curated—each room filled with records, books, candles, and all-manner of antique ephemera collected from over a decade on the road. “Don’t be fooled,” Cox tells me at one point, “most of this stuff came from Goodwill, I just know how to arrange it.” That he has created such a beautiful refuge for himself close to his family and his bandmates—guitarist Lockett Pundt lives only a few blocks away—seems very much in keeping with the mood of Fading Frontier.

It also speaks to his relative well-being. In late 2014, Cox was struck by a car, an accident that not only left him seriously injured, but also provided a perspective-giving jolt. He is loath to go into details about the incident, but admits that it was a definite turning point. Having spent many months recovering, these days he is happiest at home with his dog, a friendly rescue named Faulkner who co-stars in the video for Fading Frontier’s first single, "Snakeskin". At this point, Cox is enjoying the kind of life his younger self might have never imagined.

His newfound serenity has affected how Deerhunter operates as a band, too. Perhaps dogged by the perception that he serves as the quartet’s prickly dictator, he reiterates how much Deerhunter’s evolving aesthetic has to do with the actual group. To that end, guitarist Lockett Pundt, drummer/keyboardist Moses Archuleta, and bassist Josh McKay all come over to his house to hang out, the five of us having drinks in Cox’s dining room and playing a competitive game of darts. Whatever palpable tensions used to exist within the band—which were often pretty evident in the past—seem to have mostly evaporated.

They talk about recording Fading Frontier at a nearby Atlanta studio with Halcyon Digest producer Ben Allen as a challenging but surprisingly pleasant experience that allowed everyone room for more creative freedom. Even though Cox is quick to admit that, even now, “nothing in Deerhunter can ever just be easy,” the rest of the band appear genuinely nonplussed about the current state of affairs. “We get along better now than we ever have,” says Pundt. “We’ve all helped each other through hard times and we’ve all celebrated together. This becomes your family.” Before the band goes home, everyone does their own dishes, and Cox doles out gifts purchased during a thrifting expedition earlier in the day: a shirt “that may or may not be a women’s blouse” for McKay, and books of poetry and old biographies for Pundt and Archuleta.