In the summer of 2010, I saw Dan Deacon play a show in Redhook, Brooklyn in support of his then-latest LP, Bromst, and I'll confess that I don't remember a single song from the setlist. What I do remember is a mass of sweaty young bodies bouncing and thrumming in a state of communal ecstasy. What I do remember is Dan Deacon guiding the crowd's energy, shaman-like, by means of a few simple, childlike "games" that forced even the least energetic, dance-prone of audience members (I include myself in that category) to partake in the collective trip.
Deacon could have continued to rely on his stage charisma and frenetic songwriting approach moving forward. Instead, he chose a far more ambitious route with follow-up LP, America. Intended as a musical travelogue of the songwriter's trip across the U.S., some tracks such as "True Thrush" and "Lots" hearken back to Deacon's past efforts.
The former, with a bouncy dance beat, playful synths and vocals sung in the cadence of a schoolyard chant, is the stuff of summertime jamborees and psychedelic carnivals. Fans of Animal Collective's more upbeat fair would do well to take note. Deacon's compositions lack the overt artistic overtones of the aforementioned critical darling, wallowing in exuberant hooks and unashamedly choosing to vibe "fun" over "brainy." Still, the lesser-known Deacon's efforts are no less worthy of acclaim, revealing additional nuances with every listen.
Still, America is at its most interesting when Deacon draws from a more diverse pallet of moods and textures. Case in pont: "Prettyboy." The track opens with a gorgeous keyboard line wafting over a bed of soothing synthesizers and gentle percussion. The track gradually builds up to a kind of crescendo, albeit without ever reaching the fever pitch one would expect from a Deacon composition. The gauzy synthesizer ebbs and flows, at one point halting to make way for a sprinkling of piano, reminding us that Deacon is just as capable of mining beauty from traditional instruments as synthesizers.
After peaking with a rapid, but still relatively subdued drumbeat, the song ends much as it began: serene, pensive, soothing, orchestral, and utterly gorgeous. "Prettyboy" demonstrates for anyone who was in doubt that Deacon is anything but a one-trick pony.
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