I’ll admit it. I’m not usually a fan of the branch of rock called “shoegaze,” which is often characterized by walls of sound, washy guitars and distortion. I once listened to Lush, but not anymore, and I never really got into My Bloody Valentine. It seems inhabit an unhappy medium between straightforward rock in its various forms and more spectral, atmospheric music like Air and Sigur Ros.

Shoegaze seems to have had its heyday in the early 1990s (the hallmark album of the genre, My Bloody Valentine’s “Loveless,” came out in 1991) but the genre has proven to have a strong influence on artists that followed, including M83 and Six Organs of Admittance. I heard about Deerhunter from a friend, but was skeptical — a band that revives and innovates the shoegaze sound? My initial doubts quickly wore off during the first listen, both due to the album’s initial accessibility and the coherence of its sound.

First off, the album’s name — “Cryptograms” — is a fitting one. It is indeed a cryptic work. It’s not an album that immediately becomes comprehensible on the first listen, the second or even the third. The first track is titled “Intro,” and it is just that. Slow-building guitars and postmodern beepings permeate a lyric-less haze, and it is clear that this is an album one listens to on a high-quality sound system; otherwise, it is difficult to discern the layered complexity of the first track — and indeed, of the album. The second track, the title track, begins with singer Bradford Cox mouthing, “My greatest fear/ I fantasized/ The days were long/ The weeks flew by/ Before I knew/ I was awake/ My days were through,” and the disillusionment — and vague sense of the apocalypse — permeate the rest of the album.

The album was recorded in two separate sessions, roughly splitting the album in half. The first half is bleak, brooding and heavy. Faint lyrics can be heard just above the guitars’ wash. “Lake Somerset” is the first half’s strongest track, with nifty guitar work and soaring, building vocals. The second half, which begins at “Red Ink,” has a noticeably different sound. The guitars are much cleaner, and the songs are more accessible, less intimidating and easier to penetrate. “Cryptograms” still proceeds slowly, and the pace does not really pick up in the second half. It appears that band’s innovation occurs in the first half, and the second is far more straightforward and comparable to previous work by other bands.

The two halves of the album are different enough to merit individual albums, and one wonders what might have been. On the other hand, 12 tracks’ worth of the first half’s artistry, rather than six, might have been too much, rendering the album much like a too-rich piece of cake. The sudden shift, however, from the first half to the second is unsettling. Although it may be the band’s intention, it hampers attaining a comprehensive sense of the album’s direction.

“Cryptograms,” despite its bifurcation, is a superb work of artistry, both in its first and second halves. Its complexities and mumbled lyrics maybe can never be deciphered entirely, but the album is good enough that it is worth trying — over and over again.