The Undefinable Deerhunter

Saturday night: Deerhunter at Johnny Brenda’s. It was dark, and we were puzzled. Never have we seen a stage so dimly lit. We wondered why. An added aspect of mystery? An act of kindness to all of the dilated pupils in the room? Then, from the center of the darkness, came a huge wall of sound that almost knocked us on our ass. We were glad we didn’t partake before this show, because had we been anything less than sober, we would’ve puked. It was that insane.

Musically, the band has drawn comparisons to groups like Sonic Youth, but we felt like it was unlike anything we’d ever heard. Most of the set was a musical miasma of reverb, pulsating drums, driving guitar licks, and unintelligible lyrics. Just when we thought we had them down, they’d throw in a danceable number and we realized that we didn’t know them at all.

Their stage presence was interesting. There was no banter, but they didn’t need it. The guitarist, who wore a shirt that read “Just Say YES” in the tradition of the famous anti-drug campaign, attacked his instrument with the same intensity as his counterpart, who wore a black and white striped shirt that called to mind the Hamburglar. Lead singer Bradford Cox was wearing a dress. Yes, a Laura-Ashley-minus-the-lace sleeveless number with green and earth tone-colored print. His wig was draped over his face so he appeared to be an apparition of hair, limbs, and grandma’s housedress.

It was one of the oddest concert experiences we’ve had. We were equal parts attracted and repelled. Trying to make sense of it in our mind, we kept coming back to an image of Carrie, doused in a bucket of pig's blood. Horrifying, and yet wouldn’t that warm, viscous liquid be kind of comforting?

Image credit: Tom Rippe. Photo of lead singer Bradford Cox at a Deerhunter show earlier this month.