Forgive me as I am not usually one to highlight other writers' offhanded dismissals, but when such effort has apparently gone into disrespecting a release that clearly hasn't been listened to particularly closely, I have to post it here. Let it be said that I fully respect the writer in question - he is awesome nine times out of ten - but this... this is POO (I have highlighted the major offences):

"There's no point in speculating on why Deerhoof have become such a <b>band du jour</b><i> (Um, what? MD)</i>. Our time would be better spent working out ways to consign them back to obscurity and make sure they stay there.

To be fair to them, this twenty (yes, that's fucking twenty) track album <i>(So what if it's 20 tracks? It lasts less than an hour nonetheless)</i> would have made a half decent EP. An EP with one track on it. 'Twin Killers' is charming enough but doesn't come anywhere close to making up for the rest of the bilge on offer here.

For the uninitiated, they churn out a joyless mess <i>(Joyless? I don't think so... and mess? It's deftly crafted, non? Moreso than, say, the equally 'du jour' - or whatever - Animal Collective)</i> of badly tuned indie guitar, spasmodic jazz drumming and cutesy vocalisations, and on 'O'Malley, Former Underdog' they overlay this with irritating electronica that is reminiscent of the noise your discman makes when your mobile phone is in the same pocket. <i>(It sounds nothing like this, at any point, seriously)</i> 'Spirit Ditties Of No Tone' sums up exactly what is wrong with the band right there. Ill-conceived, badly executed, inconsequential rubbish designed to set your teeth on edge.

And just as you think things can't get any worse they do to the power of three cubed. This, the sound of one jazz professor on drums surrounded by a roomful of ADHD children let loose in the music cupboard, is so irritating that you can bet your bottom dollar that it is being pumped into a dank freight container where Black Ops soldiers are trying to extract information from Iraqi insurgents. <i>(This is the most pointless paragraph of them all... what song/s are like this? It doesn't specify. It's lazy; a readymade comparison unfit for such a usage)</i>

Of course, twenty-something jazz fans who can't do sex properly will be up in arms at the merest criticism of this sacred cow in the making (<i>I don't like jazz, and can have the sex quite wonderfully, thank you)</i>, waving their copies of The WIRE around wildly, threatening to hit people with their badly malfunctioning metronomes while claiming no one but they understand this sort of complicated music. <i>(It's SO not complicated! It's totally lo-fi for fucksake!)</i> But anyone with any sense will be paying them no heed and heading out for a walk in the park with The Jackson 5 booming out of their generic MP3 players.

Now will someone ask this gigantic naked emperor <i>(WFT!?)</i> to leave the room; the sweat glistening on his hairy man dugs is beginning to make me feel sick."