Imagine a dark and stormy night in 1990. Shonen Knife is opening a few dates for Sonic Youth on the West Coast leg of their tour, and the bands share a bus as they motor down Highway 1 en route to San Francisco for a two- night stand at The Fillmore. Suddenly, a mudslide rips down the hill and plows into the side of the vehicle, sending it careening wildly over the guardrail. As it tumbles end- over- end into the ocean, two drum kits, six amplifiers, twelve guitars and ten screaming people bounce around the interior of the coach, turn after turn after turn...

Don't worry, this is just pretend and nobody gets hurt, but if this were to happen, the resulting cacophony would be something like Deerhoof's The Man, The King, The Girl. This is a band bent on exploring the sound of a barely perceptible pop innocence being molested by Stockhausen's creepy offspring. Interesting how these kids can write a catchy tune when so inclined ("Gore in Rut" and "The Comedian Flavorists") but primarily choose the dissonance route, trading any dreams of one day joining the bourgeoisie for what can only be seen as a lifetime of cool. You have to admire it, even if you don't always want to listen to it.

Deerhoof is a trio, mysteriously identified only as The Man, (bass, guitar) The King, (drums) and The Girl (vocals). Although The Girl can shriek in the upper register with Japanese- noise- band power, she can also slip into an intimate, wide- eyed purr on more accessible tracks. The album was recorded on a four- track, and the bedroom production serves it well, maintaining the tinny compression while allowing the crashing cymbals to ring true. Songwise, it works like this: for every three cuts of The Girl shrieking over chaotic, lo-fi noise there's one twisted stab at a pop song. No, it's not for everybody, but if you're feeling adventurous and want to explore the dark side, you could do worse than to hand out with Deerhoof.

-Mark Richard-San