I love this band
but they can be
difficult to listen to.
I have one Deerhoof
CD, one LP, and about
four or five downloaded
albums that, in light
of that difficulty,
were not in heavy rotation
despite the fact that
I was delighted and intrigued
by every one of those albums.
They are one of those
bands, and I’ve listened
to a lot of bands, that
strike me as being wholly
unique and original.
It’s possible to describe
them, but nearly impossible
to compare them to any
one else. Are they a punk
band? A jazz band? A prog
rock band? Are they an
experimental noise band?
Lo-fi art rock?
Did the drummer, for the
longest time, play a two-
piece drum kit, bass and snare?
Yes, to all of the above.
At times, this drummer is
clearly phenomenal and at other
times rhythmically everything
falls apart, one would think,
purposefully. Japanese-born
lead singer Satomi Matsuzaki
sounds as if she hasn’t quite
mastered her English, but its
not because the English is
broken, only that the lyrics
are absurdist and nonsensical,
as is evidenced by a few of
the song titles on Reveille:
“No One Fed Me, So I Stayed,”
“Frenzied Handsome, Hello!”
“Top Tim Rubies,” “Hark the Umpire,”
and “Tuning a Stray.”
This record, pretty early in
their ascension to something
like an alt-rock cult band,
is pretty wild, the opening
track alternating
between robot noises,
crazy bursts of odd time
signature guitar fuzz
and drum explosion,
and Matsuzaki’s spoken
word, silly lyric, and melodic
doo doo doo doos and beep beeps.
Their songs are short and full
of crazy changes, so it’s almost
like someone is holding a
remote and channel surfing
with the band. There’s a tune,
or a movement in a tune,
wherein Matsuzaki appears
to be singing or talking with
her hand over her mouth; the
words are indecipherable.
There are quiet moments,
but they don’t last long and
are often interrupted by some
ungodly sound or another.
On the whole, this is a terrible
sounding album, also, purposeful.
The first record I heard from
Deerhoof was a record called
Friend Opportunity, recorded
five years after this one, when
the band landed on something
resembling rock song structure
and grew into a more sonically
full and hi-fi recording aesthetic.
Still experimental and strange,
but way more tuneful, way more
palatable. This record, the only
one of theirs I have on vinyl,
is designed to be difficult, is
the kind of record that makes
you wonder if something is
wrong with your stereo.
Its main saving grace is twofold:
it’s certainly not dull,
and it’s over in about a half hour.
Notes on the vinyl edition: Reveille, Polyvinyl Records, 2002, blue with white marble vinyl.
In case you don’t already know: I’m listening to almost everything in my vinyl collection, A to Z, and writing a long skinny poem-like-thing in response for each artist. As a poet and a student of poetry, I understand that these things look like poems, but they don’t really sound much like poetry, hence, I call them “poem-like-things.” I’ll admit that they’re just long, skinny essays that veer every now and then into the poetic or lyric.
michael jarmer 