Deerhoof

Though Deerhoof’s latest release is bereft of brass, the aptly titled Reveille evokes the kind of emotion induced by a bugle call at sunrise: You might appreciate the sentiment, but the jolting nature of the noise leaves you feeling edgy. At times, listening to the San Francisco band’s fourth album is like laboring through a short story that shirks all rules of grammar, with songs that are occasionally entertaining, often off-putting and sometimes downright intolerable.

The group entertains early on, striking a balance between off-kilter raucousness and intricate melodic textures. One of the catchiest tunes on the album, “Holy Night Fever,” blends chanteuse Satomi Matsuzaki’s childlike singing with the British Invasion-inspired guitar riffs of new member John Dieterich.

Unfortunately, when the band branches into more experimental territory, the result is often nerve-racking. One listen should be plenty for tracks such as “No One Fed Me So I Stayed,” which abandons tunefulness in favor of an irritating sound collage that brings to mind a screeching toddler banging on pots and pans. The childhood motif also extends unsuccessfully to “Cooper,” which boasts a barrage of fuzzy guitars and a melody like something a five-year-old might ad-lib.

Compared with the complex improvisations and innovative time signatures of some experimental artists, Deerhoof’s work sounds like a bunch of kids playing around with their first instruments. Frequently, the threesome’s energetic stabs at nontraditional rock lack the complexity required to succeed.