Bradford Cox is, unmistakably, a profuse creator. His raging appetite for permuting the various DNA strands of his leading post-punk outfit, Deerhunter, proves an insatiable creature. Speaking in absolutes, the lifeblood of his very being is music. When he’s not reintroducing bygone subgenres of punk and psychedelia through Deerhunter (his devoted wife) or Atlas Sound (his downtown hotel-room mistress), he’s practically reinventing them. He’s also got a penchant for reinventing himself. Hell, minus the ubiquity, he’s feasibly this generation’s David Bowie — above all in the context of the various, androgynous personae he’s experimented with over the years.