Deerhoof at the Asian Pop Festival 2026

Deerhoof is such a gem of a band. I first discovered them way back in 2006 or so through MySpace (when MySpace was just becoming a thing). In those days, MySpace had a feature that allowed users to put a music player on their profile page with up to half-a-dozen songs. What was cool about this was that you could be a world famous band or a three-piece playing out of grandma’s garage and have your music discovered by people all around the world. Nowadays, we are all so accustomed to accessing whatever we want on-demand, and we feel like we have access to all that the world has to offer. The novelty of this in the MySpace days was exciting, and in hindsight it was somewhat special for the fact that from the point of view of a kid crawling MySpace to discover cool stuff, big and little bands were all encountered and received the same way. All the new bands I discovered then were all equally obscure and unfamiliar. I had no idea who Deerhoof was and just assumed that they were one of the many local underground bands like mine getting a chance to put their music out into the world. I have always remembered them that way. Having not kept tabs on them, their appearance on the lineup for the third Asian Pop Festival started me down a crazy little rabbit hole of joyous re-acquaintance.

What I had always liked about Deerhoof was the unique… spunk that they have. Each song is a little adventure, and the mode of travel is usually something quirky and unconventional—like riding a unicycle across lava floes. The thing is, as much as I had listened to their stuff (albeit a fairly modest sample of their discography), in hindsight I feel like I never fully got them until I saw them play in-the-flesh. Their show on the City Stage at APF made me realize that they are one of those gems of a band that lives to play live. It is tempting to say that they are “better” live, but I think sort of quantification misses the point. It isn’t just that their live performance is a “better” version of their recorded material. It’s that their performance is a fresh re-living of their songs; not a replication or representation of them. As a band, they have a certain magic with each other, and their enjoyment of that magic in their playing together becomes the overwhelming focus of the performance.

The first thing I noticed as we waited for the show to start was that the band performs side-by-side across the stage rather than in the conventional drums-in-the-back formation. Not only does having Greg right up on the edge of the stage add a little visual spice to the show (giving the audience a front-row seat to admire his chops), but the nature of Deerhoof’s music (and consequently the way it is performed) almost necessitates having the whole mix in view at once. Deerhoof is not the kind of band that sings a tune atop some chord progression, featuring a solo here and there with the drums supporting the band in the background. Their style is much more dynamic, and the interplay between each instrument/player is a big part of what is on display. As the dynamics of the song change, the audience’s focus is drawn back-and-forth across the stage, and having them arranged laterally provides a kind of bird’s eye view of what is happening.

A typical Deerhoof song might meander between explosive episodes and gentle, reflective movements; often abruptly. Deerhoof songs also keep your ears from assuming too much by shearing a beat off the end of a bar, or interweaving the erratic or even spastic musical gestures of each instrument into an peculiar but coherent organism. Not to mention the use of rubato to create a kind of stumbling effect at times. All of these characteristic moves the band makes in their songs nudge the listener into surprising moods, emotions, or images that could not be expressed otherwise. This is bewildering to behold live; being packed in with hundreds or thousands of people riding those waves, each feeling, associating, or imagining their own worlds through them. Bands and concerts like this make me insatiably crave not just music but that magic to which it serves as a medium or vessel. During their set, I kept getting this feeling that “this is it, this is what this is for.” We are so accustomed to just hearing musical noise all around us whenever we want or whether we want to hear them or not. Seeing a band like Deerhoof re-create their music in-person is like medicine. It punches through the ambient din of music’s everpresence that we have come to take for granted, and exposes the rawly human desire for meaning carried by all that noise. How could you not want to start a band after seeing Deerhoof? How could you not want to rage against all the soulless capitalization of the arts and human experience that litters the byways of 21st century life?

Seeing Deerhoof do their thing felt like I was being reunited with kindred spirits—with people who get it. Not only does Deerhoof get it, they embody it. What do I mean by “it?” The magic, of course.

I have to at least mention how taken I was by Greg Saunier’s drumming at this show. As I said, he was right up on the edge of the stage; more-or-less right in front of where I was standing. I was completely blown away not only by his energy, but also by how expressive his style is (while also carrying the band, no less). There was one part of their set where the strings were playing somewhat rhythmically consistent arpeggios, and on top of this Greg was playing interesting off-beat motifs that put emphasis in the most counter-intuitive places. It wasn’t just spastic and random, though. The band as a whole was incredibly tight, and Greg’s drumming somehow held it all together while simultaneously challenging the ear’s sense of balance.

Since their set, I have been inspired to practice drums more earnestly. In fact, I started taking drum lessons nearly two years ago partly as a result of being inspired by Idiotape at the very first Asian Pop Festival. Watching the drummer of Idiotape go nuts over the top of all the synth madness not only looked fun, but it was strangely serene. Having learned drums for nearly two years without much purpose other than just the enjoyment of playing them, after seeing Deerhoof I now have a clear sense about to what I would like to aspire in my playing. It is hard to articulate what that is exactly, but if I had to hazard an explanation I would say that I admire Greg Saunier’s control of (or more accurately his intimate relationship with) his instrument, but more so the way he adds so much dimension to their songs with his expressive style and tight interaction with the other instruments. His drumming is not just “backup” for the band. It is an active participant in the conversation. Perhaps this is partly why I was so inspired by their set. I really miss playing in bands—not just any band, but a band that actually plays together. Deerhoof’s performances immerse the audience in that musical play and conversation, and having gotten even just a little taste of it again I feel like I cannot satisfy my appetite for it.