Deerhoof - Noble And Godlike In Ruin

You never know what a new Deerhoof album might sound like, except that it will always sound like Deerhoof.

They are defined by such paradoxes, as Noble and Godlike in Ruin reaffirms. Their latest album is either a portrait of a world descending into monstrous hate, dehumanisation, and dollar signs, or a haunting self-portrait of band-as-monster: an intelligent, sensitive, hybrid creature, singing tirelessly of love, but increasingly alienated from that world.

The music is joyful and foreboding, cybernetic and deeply human, all at once. Strings that evoke avant-garde chamber music and classic horror-film soundtracks bounce off guitar and bass lines that chug on impervious to the creeping dread. The drums are sometimes filtered to sound almost electronic, but no computer could come up with rhythms so funky and dynamic, with each minute variation from one snare hit to the next conveying worlds of possibility.

Though the subject matter may be bleak—how could it not be?—the songs carry an implicit note of defiant optimism in their refusal to bow to convention or received wisdom. There’s that famous Dylan Thomas line about raging against the dying of the light: Noble and Godlike in Ruin feels a little like that. The world may be going down, but Deerhoof is going down swinging