I hate to tell you this, but if you didn’t catch Deerhoof’s show at the Rickshaw Stop this week, you might’ve missed one of SF’s best shows of the year so far. I must admit, I didn’t know what to expect after only recently becoming familiar with some of their music. Little did I know, I wasn’t heading out just for some cool local band… Deerhoof is an iconoclastic noise group, critically acclaimed with an incredible 30 year legacy that started here, in the city of San Francisco.
When I arrived at the Rickshaw Stop late Thursday evening, the room was already filled with all kinds of characters. I got there just in time to catch the last few songs of Commode Minstrels Bullface, the most experimental act of the evening. I immediately walked up the stage to get a closer look at their handmade costumes and large headpieces made of cardboard and tinfoil, which created quite the intriguing visual. Their music featured erratic plucks of a bass guitar, an electronic violin, and a synthesizer. I didn’t quite know what I was hearing, but I think that was the point. Afterwards, my friend commented that it felt like watching a band from hell. The AI-generated art projected behind them which morphed into monsters, lobsters, and skulls both fascinated and unsettled her, in a good way. While this might have scared off the average concertgoer, the crowd was absolutely captivated.
As red and blue lights illuminated the stage, the mood shifted from the previous act. Next up was another Bay Area local, Marinero! If you’re not familiar with singer-songwriter Jess Sylvester, imagine Bossa Nova suave vocals over a Latin groove, mixed in with some Indie-El Chicano vibes.
Marinero, dressed in a crisp white button-down shirt, picked up an acoustic electric slimline guitar with no visible pickups—very chic. Another suave-looking musician took a seat at the triple-stacked keyboards, dressed head-to-toe in vintage attire, and I immediately recognized him as Jesus “Vintage Gear.” What gave him away? Perhaps it was the incredible 1970’s Moog Grandmother, Mellotron, and Crumar he was rocking with. Not sure how many others in the room realized an LA icon was present, but it felt like knowing a dirty little secret. Jesus has got a legendary reputation repairing and renting iconic vintage music equipment to groups like Chicano Batman and The Lemon Twigs.
Between songs, Marinero shared some insights into the meanings behind his music, particularly his deep love for San Francisco and it’s magic. My favorite song of his was “Nuestra Victoria,” which he dedicated to an old panaderia on 24th that sadly closed a few years back.
“But we still got conchas on 24th. Prima, she don’t live hear no more. It’s far too pricey now too stay.”
During the set, Jess also gave a shout-out to his mom, Lupe, who was in the audience. He asked the crowd to wish her a Happy Mother’s Day, which if you also need a reminder- is coming up this Sunday. He apologized for not being able to celebrate with her that weekend jokingly adding, “At least I remembered.” Their set was silky smooth, filled with joy, and served as a heartfelt tribute to our beautiful city.
Then it was time for the one and only Deerhoof, the legendary San Francisco experimental noise band fronted by bassist and vocalist Satomi Matsuzaki. Thank god for music nerds! My friend Andrew, who graciously considers Deerhoof one of his top five favorite bands of the 21st century, gave me the rundown: “I love all their eras! Their no wave, avant-garde, noise, free jazz, and math rock albums— even their new stuff!” I had no idea I had walked into a show where everyone was a highly informed Deerhoof mega-fan except for me.
Their set was ecstatic, upbeat, and in-your-face loud. My immediate thought was, “Wow! That guitarist is like Marc Bolan’s and Ludus’ Love child!” The founding drummer, Greg, appeared with unbrushed hair, a striped crop top and mismatched Halloween/Rolling Stones socks… a really good sign. Satomi came out in a bright neon green lace skirt wrapped around her waist and red leather shoes. But John, the guitarist in the unassuming grey t-shirt was definitely one to watch.
After hearing them perform, I was delirious. I credit the madman drummer who rocked his socks off, along with mine! I managed to scribble “They should really change No-Wave to Fuck-Yeah Wave” in my notebook. Their set wa sabrasive and melodic, blending punk rock with J-Pop. Ed Rodriguez, in his pirate denim shirt, rocked the hell out of his Supro amp. Satomi’s ability to harmonize with the penetrating, shrieking guitar riffs was truly impressive. I absolutely love love love when singers sing guitar parts like that— it took me maybe 15 seconds to be converted into a Deerhoof stan.
In the middle of their set, I heard a familiar blaring noise – and I immediately wanted to fall to my knees. Is this what I think I’m hearing? A cover of Silver Apples’ song “Oscillation”? Thank god for the face masks they gave us at the door, because my mouth stayed open the entire time. I was in disbelief, yet so excited to hear such an incredible rendition of their music live. (I had just made an appointment to get a Silver Apples-inspired tattoo next week—is this a sign? Abso-fucking-lutely!)
The drummer, Ed, would stand up to sing backup vocals and speak to the audience between songs. At one point, he shared three major bullet points about the band’s creation:
- Members of Commode Minstrels in an “alternate band format” showed up in Tokyo, where they found Satomi and “trapped her” into making costumes for their next performance.
- If it hadn’t been for those members of Commode Minstrels, Satomi would have never considered San Francisco as a possible post-Tokyo destination.
- Who knows if Deerhoof would performing had it not been for members of Commode Minstrels who introduced her to a ‘San Francisco noise duo’ that was looking for a singer.
They closed the night by thanking all the opening acts for supporting them on their journey, 30 years later after forming in San Francisco. When the lights came up, I hurried to the stage and snapped a photo of the setlist—a small keepsake from something much larger. I left not only grateful for the chance to see one of San Francisco’s finest live for the first time, but reminded of how powerful it is to take risks, stay curious, and keep experimenting—because that’s where the magic lives!
Review by Michelle Payan
