By: Amber Schadewald
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| Deerhoof - Publicity Photo |
In short, Deerhoof made my endorphins skip outta their holsters faster than any drug I imagine is available on the street. This San Fran band is genius in their ability to be both sporadic and ADD, while also detail-oriented and beautifully planned down to the second. Their show at the Walker was as strange as I had hoped, and a few liberal tablespoons more.
The three individuals took up little space on the stage, but the sound they produced was overwhelming. Boisterous guitar, wrenching bass lines and rabid drum tantrums weaved around unpredictable melodies, making hearts flutter and necks crank in surprise. The full crowd literally gasped at times, anticipating the next random rhythm change.
Oddly enough, the most striking part of their performance were the moments of silence. The audience sat on edge each time the music paused, sometimes just a one second halt mid-song and sometimes multiple breaks in a row. Timed to perfection, I’ve never witnessed a band so in tune with one another—I seriously contemplated the possibility that strings linked wrist to ankle across the stage.
There wasn’t a dull moment in Deerhoof’s set, and each of the members had a unique bit to add to the madness—guitarist John Dieterich had the cutest inverted knee stance while rocking out, and drummer Greg Saunier mixed up his playing by using hands, fists and elbows to create his outstanding beats. Bassist Satomi Matsuzaki was just a whole other story.
A lyrical cross between Yoko Ono and Grover (yes, of Sesame Street), Matsuzaki intermittently sang actual words between high pitched “choos,” beeps and yips (and I swear I heard a “waka waka waka” in there). A jazz skat of sounds, Matsuzaki replaces the Ella Fitzgerald-type smoothness with an electrified Asian-inspired variation. There were few words I actually understood, but of the ones I was able to pick out, “China” and “bye-bye” were most obvious. Her creepy hand gestures and stiff-twisted leg kicks were also very entertaining.
During the encore, Matsuzaki brought out a toy stuffed-bird, letting it robotically chirp in the microphone, then tossing it back and forth into the crowd. When prompted by the audience, the band reminisced about a previous experience playing in the Museum of Natural History in L.A.., during which Matsuzaki said boars, bears and “lots of other scary animals” surrounded them. Bent over at the waist, the very tall Dieterich spoke into his much shorter band mate’s mic, recalling the time when the band first played in Minneapolis as the opener for the film “Rocky” in Loring Park.
Shifting back and forth from chaos to peace, the members of Deerhoof completely sacrificed themselves to their instruments, becoming slaves to the sound for the entirety of their show. There were no flashy lights, no glitter, no anything to hype up their performance— yet it wasn’t missed one bit. Their sound alone was enough to please.
Location Info:
Walker Art Center
Artist Info: Deerhoof
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