Deerhoof
Deerhoof Vs. Evil

The happiness that accompanies every new release from Deerhoof is the helpless joy of childhood when approaching carnival rides, where you know in advance that you'll have a blast indulging in sweets and returning home with a couple of cavities.
In 15 years of career and with 10 albums behind them, they are among the few bands that have managed to stand out with their own unmistakable brand, without being self-referential and without ever falling into monotony. In simple terms, they have style, personality, and a unique approach to music, which is why the group from San Francisco has, and maintains like few others, a loyal base of followers over time. If you take the trouble to look them up on Wikipedia, you'll discover how many artists have been influenced by Deerhoof.

But let's focus on this latest release where the quartet (the trio was joined by guitarist Ed Rodriguez in 2008) challenges the devil. What can I say, everything is so magnificently beautiful, with that proletarian humility, that gentle grace that sets them apart. Creativity and explosive flashes with an anarchic propensity for melody. Simplicity of intentions and often frivolous solutions give us the essence of Deerhoof: they are kids having fun like when they were teenagers, never taking themselves too seriously. Of course, time passes and some changes are inevitable; we find more pop irreverence at the expense of wild experimentation, a few synthetic flourishes here and there, but it's only right, in the natural evolution towards quieter and, if you like, more predictable shores, it's more a benefit than a detriment, given that with Friend Opportunity (2006) a glimpse of sclerosis was emerging.
What surprises (but not too much) is the amount of Japan, emphasizing Matsuzaki's parentage in the compositions. The first part varies between quirky and restless pop, between cowbells, diabolical fades, dry guitars that engage in unlikely arpeggios.

“Behold a Marvel in the Darkness” could be the theme song for a Japanese TV show, except it then evolves into classic acid guitars and the rain of drumming, two pieces of the granite Greg Saunier, ending in the dark plot of Satomi's bass. In “Merry Barracks,” churning guitars are held in check by Saunier's slow progression, irresistible impotence. Tracks like “Must Fight Current” and especially “No One Asked to Dance” risk heresy for "traditionalists" but end up appearing graceful in their soft uncertainty. And on to other lessons in style: “Super Duper Rescue Heads!”, “Secret Mobilization” at times Bloodhound Gang-esque, and “I Did Crimes for You,” where in 3 minutes they change landscapes ten times over. Not bad either is the calm final farewell of “Almost Everyone, Almost Always,” imitating the presumed defunct Enon.

Nothing to fear, Deerhoof have remained genuine as well as quite diabolical.