Energetic, experimental, genre-blending

Nearing their 30th anniversary, San Francisco experimental group Deerhoof have a long history of bold artistic choices. While most aptly described as noise-punk, the band has dabbled in a wide range of styles over the years, from jazz to psychedelia to contemporary classical. It’s no surprise that Miracle-Level, their newest album, is so electric with creative risks. 

In many ways, Miracle-Level is a typical Deerhoof album – from the first bars of “Sit Down, Let Me Tell You a Story”, listeners are met with needle-sharp electric guitar, jagged riffs playfully warring with the softness of the vocals, set to a backdrop of machine-gun drums. In other ways, Miracle-Level is entirely different: most notably, the entire album is in singer Satomi Matsuzaki’s native Japanese. 

When asked for the reasoning behind this choice, band members have cited both a desire to appeal to the rising popularity of J-rock in English-speaking countries and the desire to reject English, the language of “the world’s policemen.” While certainly unconventional, this double-edged philosophy works perfectly for a band so skilled at striking delicate balances as Deerhoof. 

The overall sound of Miracle-Level is energetic and rock-forward, but songs often fall into gaps of contemplative silence or dissolve into silly rock n roll riffs as in “My Lovely Cat!”, switching their tempo and energy at the drop of a hat. Unlike more traditional punk (including earlier work by Deerhoof), the clean and simple production of Miracle-Level gives a sharp, art-pop feeling to the album, in the same way that a paint-splattered canvas might look refined when placed in a frame. 

If there’s a major gripe to be had with Miracle-Level, it’s that the album isn’t exactly approachable. Between its frantic instrumentation and wild melody lines, the experience of listening all the way through feels kind of like sitting in a speeding car without a seatbelt on. Frequently, songs break down midway through and collapse into spiraling, repetitive riffs, a motif that may grow tiresome to some listeners by the end of the album. 

Luckily, Deerhoof has a talent for apportioning breathers. “The Poignant Melody” and “The Little Maker” take down the tempo, offering a bluesy sound that highlights the wavery charm of Matsuzaki’s vocals, and “Miracle-Level” begins as a soft piano ballad, a welcome relief after the thrash and clamor of “Jet-Black Double-Shield.” When the energy builds so high as to become grating, Deerhoof knows how to pull it back down just as skillfully as they ratchet it up.

However, even these songs don’t give listeners full respite. Just as the more punk-forward songs on the album insist on complexity, the more mellow songs still carry a certain tension. Though uneasy high notes and dissonant, echoey piano chords prevent the listener from finding true comfort, these choices give the album a sense of artistic cohesion. Even in its calmer moments, Miracle-Level is a live wire, a current thrumming beneath its surface.

It’s this contrast – the careful balance between the melodic and the dissonant, the playful and the threatening – that makes Miracle-Level stand out. The album’s punk elements are more weighty when juxtaposed with softness, and the softness is more beautiful when nestled among blistering noise-guitar. Even if Miracle-Level isn’t an easy ride, it’s certainly an interesting one, and well worth a listen for longtime Deerhoof fans or those who aren’t afraid of taking a risk.