Merited or not, bands with an exotic front woman possess an unmistakable je ne sais quoi. The Velvet Underground, Blonde Redhead and most recently, Deerhoof, all possess her, and all carry the crushing weight of their possession-because however great the band's artistry may be, they're forever prone to gimmickry. Deerhoof's latest album demonstrates that it's indeed the tunes (and not the three white guys and the Japanese girl) that matter. Across the elegantly architected cartoon land that is Milk Man, the SF quintet stretches pop music almost to the point where it becomes unlistenable. It's an aesthetic so beautiful and dangerous, you'll be sorry you ever had petty differences.