Mountain Moves

An album both generous and balanced in its patient give and take, upbeat and open, full of enthusiasm and joy. [Nov 2017, p.67]

The broadest, strangest and coolest sonic canvas that Deerhoof has ever framed. [No. 146, p.52]

Mountain Moves' whimsy often feels like a party that just happens to be political, but it's this sense of joy that makes protest--and Deerhoof's career--sustainable.

This influx of new voices finds Deerhoof exploring a number of different styles and sounds, all the while keeping that chaotic exuberance they are known for.

Vibrant and outward-looking, the record has a buoyant, dancified energy that flows. [Oct 2017, p.103]

Mountain Moves is a brilliantly executed synthesis of tag-averse weirdness, orchestral pop and easy grooves, stuffed with earworms and whimsy-free. [Oct 2017, p.26]

The collaborations on Mountain Moves are well-chosen and thankfully work nicely with the talents of Deerhoof’s four current members. ... Eclecticism serves Deerhoof well and invites comparisons to everything from the Flaming Lips to the White Stripes to Captain Beefheart circa Doc at the Radar Station.

Mountain Moves indicates that something better--something made by diverse but like-minded collaborators--might be able to come next.

While the group doesn't necessarily soften all the edges to play nice with the album's guest vocalists, some of the usual structural complexity of their songs is smoothed at times to turn the focus more squarely on the interplay between Matsusaki and their visitors.

If Mountain Moves occasionally feels disconnected, it’s because the theme upon which it hinges--injustice--is, sadly, still as broadly defined as it gets. Fortunately, that disconnectedness makes for a bright, lively listen.

Whether it's the drifting of "Singalong Junk," the stripped down, jazz-cat prowling of "Mountain Moves," or the electro-tripping of "Sea Moves," Deerhoof have simply outdone themselves with Mountain Moves, an album that requires as much focus as it does imagination.

On the good side, there’s the spacey disco-funk of “Palace of the Governors” and “Begin Countdown.” Describing Deerhoof songs frequently forces you to invent delirious fictional bands to compare them to; the latter of these two sounds like the Meters as covered by an ensemble of Teletubbies. On a handful of songs that litter the album’s second half, however–”Sea Moves,” “Singalong Junk,” “Kokoye”--the band searches at its borders for a new sound to bring back and doesn’t find anything very interesting.

As usual, there’s probably a few too many ideas here and the band trip up on them occasionally--but if they didn’t, it wouldn’t be much of a Deerhoof record.

The best moments find Deerhoof unadulterated, like the angular tropicalia of Begin Countdown, or drummer Greg Saunier's Prefab Sprout-like Ay That's Me. [Oct 2017, p.94]