The Deer Hearts now have six songs available for your perusal here on the ol' Space. Some of the guitar-playing and singing could be a little better, but the songs are tight, and part of being the hippest band in the world's hippest town is pretending to like things that you can't do right.
Here's the bottom line: right now, dropping the name "The Deer Hearts" into your next stylishly pedantic musical conversation is tantamount to informing the world (but not informing them directly) that you are the coolest white motherfucker they've ever met. Unless you aren't white, but frankly, you probably are. However, this is a limited-time possibility. We, The Deer Hearts, are destined to sell-out. In fact, we're desperate to sell out. Tim works for a printing company and wakes up at five-thirty in the morning. Jessica is a whore. They don't want to have to work anymore, and as soon as Sire Records comes sniffing around, they won't. They'll sign the Devil's contract with their mothers' blood using their own severed weiners as pens and be on a fast-track to mediocrity before you can say Against Me!. Which is sad and a terrible commentary on these modern times and blah blah blah, but it's also a neigh-priceless opportunity for you, the too-cool-for-shul music consumer.
If you start liking The Deer Hearts now, going to their shows, digging their tunes, and--above all--telling your friends, then in two years when they're complete and utter hacks, you can bitch about how you were personally wounded when your favorite indie band turned mersh. It's pure hipster currency in your pocket: YOU were there before all the fucking fucks showed up and ruined the scene. YOU spotted the trend before it was a trend, when it was just some poor motherfuckers doing it for the love, and YOU suffered when KKKorporate AmeriKKKa ripped it away from YOU.
Liking The Deer Hearts now won't make you cool, but not liking The Deer Hearts anymore will make you better than cool. It will make you credible. It will grant you integrity. You will be Eddie Vedder in 1990. You will be Axle Rose in 1985. You will be Lou Reed, forever.
