BioDeerhoof is one of those bands that is always and only described in outlandishly cartoonish hyberbole. Exclamation points follow every sentence about them. And that's just their fans. Their label is wise to the game too, unashamedly comparing their latest release to masterpieces by The Beatles, Duke Ellington and Orson Welles.
Sure, this San Franciscan quartet could easily be put in place as just another young and hyper j-pop-esqe band, doing the cute cute punk thing, tone deaf in the lovable post-Sonic Youth world where a broken guitar and an effects pedal with half-dead batteries puts one on equal par with the entire written work of Vivaldi.
No matter. Deerhoof is riding high, hard and far on a genuine stylistic rush of energy that fuels feeling good. Their sense of fashion and style is so dialed in that crowds will continue to gather and gather in greater numbers. They are now, they are power, they want it, they're giving it, feel it, love it, live it. One can only cheer them on as they continue their efforts to conquer the world, because a world under their thumb would be one way hella fun place to be.