What better way to open my personal favorite dungeon-come-venue for 2012 than a capacity crowd to see the wonderful and amazing Deerhoof – and it was a veritable whose-who of Auckland’s music scene rubbing shoulders with every gig-goer worth their salt – shit, even the Dum Dum Girls were there.
Late additions to the line-up when Kody and Bic’s Opossum pulled out, Poor You, Poor Me were an absolutely perfect choice for support slot – winning over new fans from those early enough to see them – a non-traditional early start at 
Whammy had them on stage just after 9.30pm. I fielded at least half a dozen “who are these guys; they’re awesome?!” inquiries during their set. Trying to explain Poor You, Poor Me to someone who hasn’t seen them is like trying to describe a colour to a blind person; or the internet to your grand-parents. They provide answers to questions you hadn’t imagined with their post-internet non-linear influences; they are like a messed up mash of The Pogues meeting tonight’s headliner in a damp alley. Poor You, Poor Me gained a whole bunch of new fans last night and deservedly so – one’s to watch for 2012 without a doubt.
I haven’t seen Sharpie Crows in what seems an age and was curious given their recent Flying Nun signing to see where they had progressed to. There should have been a warning on the ticket – Sharpie Crows may cause lacerations with their cleaver-like bass lines and butchering rhythms – they were like a disaffected and disengaged monster – yelps batted thunderstorms in a bloodied and murderous mess. Carnage by Sharpie Crows. In a good way.
To quote Nelly – it was getting hot in there; an underground cauldron of anticipation as the mild-mannered Deerhoof made their ways to the stage. Within three songs Deerhoof hadn’t so much de-constructed popular music as stripped it down to its bare foundations and sold the parts for scrap – shit, I saw the guy from Pick-A-Part there getting the hub-cabs! Deerhoof are so wonderfully off-kilter they defined their own trajectory; melodic machine guns with cherry-ripened ammunition rat-ta-tatted the willing in smiling executions. Satomi Matsuzaki was like a psychotic dove – she was all about peace and fucking shit up. - review by Andrew Tidball
