Deerhoof
Offend Maggie
(Kill Rock Stars, 2008)

San Francisco quirk-rockers Deerhoof have built a name for themselves on clever changes, angular riffs, and rewarding melodic payloads. Their irregular timings, unconventional structures, and pop/noise (sometimes punkish) flash has, in the past, bordered on the experimental, as their sound has evolved within a stylistic variety of songs that jet like fireworks turning sharply in mid-air before bursting. On their latest cut, Offend Maggie, the group preserves enough of this charisma to remain sure-footedly Deerhoof, yet also comes considerably closer to kilter than ever before.

Songs on Maggie are as punchy and inspired as those from albums past; yet, they also move away from the band’s foundation in spontaneity for melodies that keep steadier for longer. It comes across as less improvisatory, and, in that, there’s a sense that maybe they’re mellowing a bit as songwriters, or at least they did for this album. Gone are the little electronic flourishes that appeared on 2007’s Friend Opportunity, and save for a few seconds of piano or organ, there’s barely a sign of the keys more prominent on Friend as well. Instrumentally, Maggie feels more like a follow-up to 2005’s brilliant The Runners Four; a solid, no-frills set-up of guitar, bass, drums, and vocals crankin’ out the rock as Deerhoof knows it, although the way they feel it seems to have altered with the times, and appropriately so.

Of 2004’s Milk Man, there was something menacing in the jangle between cutenesses; the meteoric Runners Four was a sunshine-y, almost Beatles-esque alt-rock smash that, even at its crunchiest and most aggressive, was still fun; and Friend Opportunity, while celebratory in tone, was also an objective, studio-streamlined work of concentration. On Maggie, there’s definitely an emotional undertone both musically and lyrically, though it’s neither a positive nor a negative. It’s confusion; the feeling of being neither here nor there, of not knowing, and its accompanying disoriented freedoms and anxieties. “Chandelier Searchlight”, easily the album’s most straightforward pop gem and perhaps the highlight overall, is an exact representative. A cheerful tune touched ever so slightly by melancholia, it flows perfectly along with a bit of that glint championed on Runners Four yet sings of the transitional phase from life to death, through lines split between Japanese and English, backed by guitars, alternatingly acoustic and electric.

Interestingly, the one juxtaposition least remarkable in all this is the go-to one Deerhoof has employed virtually from their beginning. Satomi Matsuzaki’s placid sopranino has always been especially effective given its variance to the serrated, raucous clamor of the instruments, yet amid Maggie’s general prettiness and order, Satomi’s voice, while no less sweet and quizzical, often blends right in. It happens on the Celtic-sounding title song, as well as on the short, pared-down, acoustic-and-vocal, “Don’t Get Born.”

Much to Deerhoof’s credit, their heretofore tendency towards unexpected sonic breakouts creates a sort of tension in songs that never do break out; a tension that makes returning listeners all the more appreciative of the steady ride they’re taking. Whether an intentional reflection of the times or not, Offend Maggie reins in Deerhoof’s wildness for a sound that’s at once easy to hold on to, yet sometimes racked with anxiety. It’s as if with all today’s chaos—markets crashing, leadership in limbo, crazy weather, wars, and a perilous future—the iconoclastic Deerhoof searches for something steady, even if they’re just as uncertain about things as anyone else. Fortunately, the one inalienable certainty here is their talent, which continues to shine for another solid record.

Listen: Various Tracks [at myspace.com]

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