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The Daily Tar Heel

Inconsistency slays label showcase

I wish the milkman would deliver more milk - in the morning.

Avant indie-poppers Deerhoof came to Local 506 on Sunday in support of their latest LP, Milkman, on Kill Rock Stars' experimental imprint label, 5 Rue Christine.

Inside the crowded, smoke-congested room that is Local 506, openers All Astronauts blared and wailed with the fury of a scorned siren bellowing from her island precipice. Decked out in an olive green dress, frontwoman Haydee Thompson pleased her fans with a genuine smile on her face as she performed through the set.

At one point, she adorned her head with a large costume flower and wore a leaf glove that looked oddly like a green lobster claw, attempting to hold the microphone to continue her performance. With a passion and flair befitting someone dressed as a flower, she continued, falling from the stage into the arms of an unsuspecting audience.

Unfortunately, the night fizzled out before it really began. Following All Astronauts was Dark Inside the Sun, a decidedly more subdued group consisting of only two people playing together on stage.

Although the duo has an intimate and altogether beautiful sound, it couldn't help but seem somewhat out of place at this particular show.

Its soft, whispering instrumentation fell beneath the idle conversations at the bar. The chatter of the audience could be heard well over the pair's tunes as they sojourned on, finishing a set to which it appeared few were actually listening.

And the headliners were remarkably underwhelming. Given the preconceived notion that a magical land of enchantment would appear onstage, it was somewhat disappointing to see four normally dressed indie musicians.

Things began with a simple entrance and a hello before the group headed right into its first track, pounding away.

The sound quality matched that of the band's albums, and the group played everything one could possibly want to hear from its canon with surgical precision. But the thing is, Deerhoof never failed to please, yet never actually impressed.

The band churned out its bizarre brand of indie pop as though playing the soundtrack to an elementary school playground in the depths of an acid binge. Frontwoman Satomi Matsuzaki squeaked out her adorably high-pitched vocals with perfect delivery as the band pummeled its instruments behind her with a comical fury.

The show ended as it began - abruptly. At the end of "Panda, Panda, Panda," Matsuzaki piped a sharp "bye bye," and the band left the stage.

As the night drew to a close I was left with one thought: I wish the milkman would deliver more milk ... 'cause I'm yawning.

Contact the A&E Editor at artsdesk@unc.edu.

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