Just over seven years ago, a friend of mine found a detached deer's hoof (and nothing else) by the roadside on the way to high school. Being an idiot completely unaware of the hazards associated with handling dead animal flesh, he figured it'd be a great idea to pick it up and bring it along for a day of higher education. Unfortunately-- as I've been trying to tell Ryan, who sent me this record to review immediately upon hearing that I had this story-- no zany antics ever ensued. A little absurdity in the midst of an otherwise average day, that's it. Some people asked stuff like, "Why the hell do you have a deer hoof?" and, "Would you mind getting your deer leg out of my fucking lunch?" but basically nothing happened. Still, it left an impression; harmless, real-life surrealism like watching your principal confiscate a severed leg is rarely forgotten.

Though this story might seem only tangentially related, the moral is simple: Everyone needs an occasional jolt of twisted, rhapsodic hysteria to shatter the mundanity of everyday life once in a while, something to pull them out of the banal mire of geriatrics in alien glasses, tech schools, gas prices, and trips to the supermarket. Deerhoof, bless 'em, have been serving the public interest for five full albums now by playing host to these little reality-warping junkets. With each successive release, their pop acumen becomes keener, a deadly undercurrent of subversive, sugar-glazed hooks to match their ferocious blasts of noise. Apple O’ is the latest head-trip from these San Fran bliss addicts, debuting as-yet unseen levels of songcraft; in just thirty minutes, I danced, I wept, I sang-- even the pandas they promised showed up. In short, Apple O’ performed exactly as expected, although that in itself is a little frightening.

While last year's Reveille was a similarly beautiful, bright flight, it was just unhinged enough so that, until its final moments, there was a lingering uncertainty as to its destination: It would either land in a frenetic pop playground, or allow unbridled blasts of noise to plunge it into the sea. Now it seems as though Deerhoof have transmuted Reveille's spurts of genius into a more cohesive, but slightly less astonishing consistency. Apple O’ is still a fascinating trip, but from the very beginning, it's a fairly safe bet that you'll be headed somewhere very pretty, without as much worrisome turbulence. That's not a lock, naturally-- the trademark madness that's infected their earlier recordings hasn't vanished, just diminished-- but this is their most straightforward release to date.

The good news is that the band's efforts to "normalize" (if such a word can truly be used to describe their work) has reaped great dividends. Every song they present is a staggering collage of guitars and drums, bells, tambourines, brass, and every other manner of beep or squeak under the sun, all falling in line in lush, swaying arrangements. Now, with the added ballast of an improved song-focus, Deerhoof venture into deeper waters, adapting their instrumental melange to a wider variety of styles. Dance, jazz, be-bop, 50s doo-wop, and standard jangle-pop all get thrown into the mix at varying points, while remaining inimitably in the thrall of their particular brand of noise. All that's left is for Satomi Matsuzaki's kindergarten-cute vocals to add the final, unifying glaze.

As a treatise on love, romance and creation through a very cracked looking glass-- love as bridge (the card game), among other metaphors-- Apple O’ functions loosely as a concept album, so its tighter cohesion might be expected. Staccato crunch and trembling lines accompany the beautiful romance of "L'Amour Stories"; "Dummy Discards a Heart" reprises the blistering, start/stop dynamics and killer percussion that made "This Magnificent Bird Will Rise" such a highlight of Reveille. From the streetcorner serenade of "Dinner for Two"-- a sort of J-Pop reincarnation of "Earth Angel"-- to the solemn regret of "Apple Bomb", all avenues of this relatively tranquil concept are explored. And then, in a definitive, almost symbolic closing statement, Deerhoof opt for a humble, unadorned acoustic gem ("Blue Cash") in the vein of those prep-schoolers in Belle & Sebastian, rather than any of their signature weirdness. As Matsuzaki sings, "Play on your heartstrings a song," its innocence perfectly conveys everything they've spent this entire record trying to say.

Once again, Deerhoof have released an album masquerading as out-of-the-blue insanity, while cleverly harboring nothing but the most basic, virally contagious pop around. Apple O’ never seems quite so unpredictable as Reveille, so it's a safe bet that if you liked Reveille but found it a bit too experimental, you'll like this one better. Of course, in the age-old controversy between a steady keel of greatness or sporadic moments of true genius, genius has to take the gold, but this album's intense variety and sparklingly consistent pop songwriting make a great consolation prize.