Beards, Blazers & Glasses: Deerhunter Or A Conversation Between a Hipster Music Critic and His Totally Normal Friend, Joe
Hipster Music Critic:Renowned by all four of his friends as a musical sage. Relatively certain that in primitive societies he would've been called a shaman.
Hipster Music Critic's Friend/Joe: Joe is a very normal well-adjusted individual. He likes music with tunes and melodies and intelligible lyrics. Hipster Music Critic thinks Joe is stupid, but once Joe saved Hipster Music Critic from getting beaten up by a tough high school's women's field hockey player. They have been friends ever since.
We meet our heroes, surrounded by a thick swarm of bearded, bespectacled, be-blazered individuals and the leggings-clad women who love them.
Joe: Someone needs to give Deerhunter's lead singer a sandwich. She makes Amy Winehouse look like the fat chick from Wilson Phillips.
Hipster Music Critic: That's not a woman. That's a man.
Removing a black fright wig from his head, Deerhunter lead singer Bradford Cox is clad in an ill-fitting floral house dress. He has a pentagram drawn in ink on one of his freakishly thin arms.
Hipster Music Critic: Their music is so primal, so erotic, so sexual. It makes me want to go home and crawl into a bathtub filled with petroleum jelly while listening to Bryan Ferry solo records.
Joe: Why is the lead singer deep-throating the microphone?
HM(I)C: You fool, you are mis-understanding his phallic use of imagery, reflecting the epic cycle of self-abuse and nebulous nullification that make his nihilism necessary.
Hipster Music Critic: You just don't get want they're doing. They're advanced. No one in the history of time has ever thought to have a martian-looking lead singer in a dress with four guys playing reverb filled with so much shoegaze that you can hardly stop shoegazing long enough to remember that Pitchfork gave them 89 Pitchforks of love.
Joe: What does that mean?
Hipster: I'm not sure yet, they just keep getting better and need more hard Pitchforkings.
Joe: Right...but did you ever stop to consider that it's much easier to write songs with purposefully indecipherable lyrics, without any regard towards hooks or melodies.
Hipster Music Critic: It must be hard to be so unenlightened. Can't you appreciate the beauty in their atonal screeches and how long they can drone. This band could just fucking drone me all night long---hard. Can't you grasp the brilliance of Bradford's Cox?
Joe: I don't understand the question and I won't respond to it.
Deerhunter: They Hate Deer But They LOVE Sheep (wink, wink, nudge, nudge)HMC: This is art high art, forged in a fiery furnace by Fiery Furnaces who have properly synthesized their concrete Christ-like crystallizations.
Joe: I'm leaving, I can't watch this anymore. This isn't brilliant, this isn't art, this is what would happen if you tried to soundtrack a migraine headache.
HMC: Philistine! But admit it, their performance raised some questions about existentialism, expressionism, empiricism, Dadaism, Momism and several others words ending in -ism that I'm going to have to invent to properly describe this band.
Joe: Well, it does raise one question.
HMC: Which is?
Joe: How many people are gonna' figure out that these erstwhile emperors aren't wearing any clothes?
See also Brunette Like Me's Similarly Hans Christian Anderson-referencing take on Deerhunter's Live Show. I particularly appreciate her description of the band's sound as being akin to the "cacophonous wail of a dying chimpanzee."
See Also Scott Sterling's kinder and gentler take on the band, proving once again he is a better person than I.
Download: (Admittedly, these songs aren't nearly as bad as the live show)
MP3: Deerhunter-"Wash Off"
MP3: Deerhunter-"Strange Lights"
Video of Deerhunter Live (probably unsuitable for small children):