Deerhoof, London Scala

Deerhoof

July 1st 2009

You have indie gigs. Frequently comprised of tepid Telecaster-wielding fops, wistfully gazing over the audience with mock sentiment, occasionally flicking their well-groomed fringes from their faces. You sit through one after another formulaically dreary cliché of a song, while some feckless dolt essentially rapes you from behind with his jeans on. You watch the minutes slowly tick towards the 11 o’clock curfew and think, please finish now, I’m bored and I want to go home.

And then you have Deerhoof gigs.

For those who don’t know, Deerhoof aren’t so much a band of human beings, but rather a small collection of robot/alien mutants from the far reaches of space. Disguised as humans who just happened to be passing Earth and thought they’d stop by for a jam. Thank Xenu for Deerhoof.

The band takes to the stage; standing completely still, silent, then begin with ‘Chatterboxes’. Fixed stares, the bass then heralds the beginning of ‘Flower’, the band so at ease with the song by now that they toy with its structure, a recipe that will be common throughout their set. Next up is ‘Blue Cash’, and it’s a twee, fairly sedate beginning before things begin to get a little more abstract.

The next three songs come from their latest, Offend Maggie. ‘Buck and Judy’, ‘Offend Maggie’ and ‘Snoopy Waves’ find the crowd beginning to shuck and jive sporadically, in an awkward manner that the tricky time patterns determine. ‘Spirit Ditties of No Tone’ shakes the whole audience to idiotic grinning while Satomi Matsuzaki chirps, “Bless spirit ditties of no tone/Inspirations/Unsensations/Modulate more silence”. It’s too enchanting not too smile like an idiot.

While she’s not parading around the stage like an ideal, yet slightly odd gym teacher – whistle blowing, shorts and miniature shoes – she’s an incredibly masterful bass player. The pounding chords of ‘Giga Dance’, which become much darker when live, momentarily replace the charm she exudes. Following track, ‘Panda Panda Panda’ finds Satomi, relieved of her bass duties, bopping around the stage snipping mimed scissors through the air and mimicking glasses and panda ears.

We’re treated to a range of favourites: ‘The Great Car Tomb’, ‘Twin Killers’ and ‘+81’ played faster and slower than usual. ‘Basket Ball Get Your Groove Back’ turns the venue into a weird UV indie rave. The sound is all at once beguiling, abrasive and raucous, with spasmodic drums thrown in to shake things up a bit. The reason we’re all here.

Guitarist John Dieterich sings ‘Pinhead’ by the Ramones. Satomi takes to the drums while drummer Greg Saunier sings ‘Going up to the Country’ by Canned Heat. The latter demonstrating his ease with not only drums, but guitar also (he nails the solo with nonchalance). Elsewhere, Saunier doesn’t necessarily play drums, but seizures with uncontrollable perfection. Unhinged, he’s more Animal than Keith Moon, slowly working his way through a stack of drumsticks strewn across the floor. Weights prevent his drums from sliding forward toward the audience; such is the ferocity of his playing.

John gurns, a plectrum pursed between his lips throughout the entire show, bending double and awkwardly ambling around like a lost dinosaur trapped inside a tight fitting body suit. At one point the entire band follow suit in slow motion, easing around the stage, lying down, utilizing every inch of space. Dieterich, pushes his guitar deep into the corner of the stage atop a discarded chair. Satomi and second guitarist, Ed Rodriguez placing their instruments above their heads, towards the monitors, speaker stacks and ceiling; anywhere they might attain some new level of post-track feedback. There’s no end to the adulation emanating from the crowd.

Shattering and utterly compelling, it works the audience into a hysteria that warrants two encores. It’s not just great music, but an entertaining and cathartic experience throughout. A perfect break from the often too characterless dirges that gigs can be.