Deerhoof

Deerhoof doesn't really make any sense, but the band's members likely don't lose much sleep over that fact. Instead, the San Francisco quartet calmly lures listeners with an unconsciously upbeat clusterfuck of sound. Playful melodies dodge and weave between the lilting cadence of singer Satomi Matsuzaki's vocals, as they skip dreamily past roaring guitars, thumping drums, skittering beeps, and wavering keyboards that come and go in a ballet of cheerful cacophony.

But attempting to decode the music will result only in an incredibly serene mental breakdown. Just relax. Being musicians gives them license to drivel, a Wonka golden ticket to the factory where artists turn gibberish into genius by setting straitjacket ramblings to music before sitting back and smirking, as the rest of us frantically paw at each word, each stanza, each melody, trying to unlock the intricacies of life.

Take Milk Man, which came out in March. Curiously, it's the band's most accessible album. As long as you don't think too hard about it. In fact, we highly recommend a lobotomy. Because as soon as you stop trying to figure out what the hell is going on with "Dog on the Sidewalk," the sooner you can enjoy the raining beeps and squiggles without fretting over The Message. It doesn't even matter that the song's lyrics, in their entirety, are Dog on the sidewalk/I saw/Wan wan kun ga poko poko pon pon.

Naturally. What else would they be?