For going on two decades, these artful dodgers have been getting their shit together somewhere in the outer limits of the noise-rock fringe, with conceptual song cycles about desperate milkmen pied-pipering children into pastures of cellophane flowers and marmalade skies, or cuddly pandas wandering through the valley of the shadow of death. The personnel have shifted over the course of 11 albums, but these days Deerhoof are anchored by drummer/singer Greg Saunier’s deep kick and light voice, the twin-guitar abstract expressionism of John Deiterich and Ed Rodriguez, and the naif anime vocals of bassist Satomi Matsuzaki, whose helium-pitched pipes have the same calming effect of a police horse at a riot. Deerhoof’s hard-earned longevity has proven that, if nothing else, persistence is the mother of attention. In recent years the band’s been embraced by elder noisenik tastemakers like Sonic Youth and Wilco. The key to penetrating Deerhoof’s dense algebraic rockism isn’t to start at the beginning of the equation, but rather the middle and work your way outward. Start with, say, “You Can See,” from 2005’s The Runner’s Four, which sounds, atypically for Deerhoof, like Belle and Sebastian’s Stuart Murdoch fronting early-’90s Stereolab on a cover of “Spirit in the Sky” — for about a minute, anyway. And then, as per usual, they pull the rug of familiarity out from under your feet and you land ass-first on the hardwood floor of the unknown. Eventually you’ll find your footing. Maybe you’ll even find the dance floor, do the hokey-pokey and turn yourself around. Stranger things have happened. A pair of tickets to see them tonight at World Cafe Live goes to the first reader to email us at FEED@PHAWKER.COM with the answer to the following Deerhoof trivia question: What member of Wilco collaborated with Deerhoof (on the 7-inch single pictured above)? Please include a cellphone number for confirmation. Good luck and godspeed!