LIVE WIRE: Absurdist electronica for the 21st century.

Dan Deacon is a golden god. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.   

Two weeks ago was when I heard his name for the first time. I was out with some friends, happily inebriated and splitting a platter of 25¢ wings the size of a small lifeboat with them when fate struck me in the form of seven innocuous words: “Have you ever heard of Dan Deacon?”   

No, I hadn’t, I’d said. Should I know about him? What does he sound like?   

“Um, well, it’s kind of hard to explain…”   

Having listened to nothing but songs from Rock Band for the past month, “hard to explain” was music to my ears. So I did some research and discovered that he was coming to Richard’s on Richards soon. So I sent out a few e-mails, and Timbre Productions got back to me within hours. And I was off.   

Hailing from Baltimore, Maryland, self-proclaimed absurdist composer and electronic musician Dan Deacon is a real piece of work. Listening to tracks like “Crystal Cat” or “Big Big Big Big Big” without knowing just who the hell Dan Deacon is would probably initially make you wonder who his dealer is, and then whether or not you really need an RRSP. But after having seen him live and having given him a serious listen, it’s evident that Dan Deacon’s music is more than just something to get stoned to.   

Take his opening act, for instance. (No, not Montag. His noteworthy opening act.) As part of his Ultimate Reality Tour, a 30-minute long composition by Dan Deacon himself played through the speakers to two live drummers keeping the beat in perfect sync onstage, while a kaleidoscopic montage of old Arnold Schwarzenegger movies created by visual artist Jimmy Joe Roche played on a screen behind them. Deacon just stood back and took it all in. Total Recall, Predator, Kindergarten Cop, Conan the Barbarian and Junior all flashed before our eyes in fauvist shades as the synthesized harmonies weaved an elaborate aural tapestry to the beat, sounding a bit like a symphony orchestra filtering all its arpeggios and crescendos through the speakers of a Game Boy. And yet, the sophistication of his pieces was never overstated. I was thoroughly impressed by each movement and was not at all surprised when I found out later that Deacon had once been classically trained as a composer.   

Finally, Deacon himself took the stage. Well, sort of.   

Rather, he took the foot of the stage, setting up a table of electronic gizmos and effects pedals all wired into a postage stamp-sized iPod Shuffle, leaving the whole Richard’s on Richards stage empty so he could better connect with the crowd on ground level. As he set up his lights and his fans respectfully gave him the space he needed to do it, he took a moment to glance toward the far end of the club.   

“If you can’t see back there, you can come up onto the stage!” he yelled.   

It was probably around then that the hetero man-crush formed.   

The lights went out and Deacon started tinkering with the equipment. Forgoing the stage lights in favor of his own tabletop lighting setup, he opened with the redundantly catchy “I’ve Got a Rattlesnake Gun” and his single, “Crystal Cat”. Knowing the words is hardly relevant at a Dan Deacon show. Just make the noises. I’d only heard each of his songs maybe once or twice since discovering him, so I was essentially lost. Halfway through his set though, I knew I was just screaming gibberish but my face contorting to form the words/sounds to “Snake Mistakes” communicated the dedication of a longtime fan.   

I could go on and on about Dan Deacon. I could talk about how intimately he works the crowd, manipulating the audience into crazy actions and dance moves. I could talk about the tacky ornateness of his stage props and that trippy flashing green skull he brings everywhere. And I could talk about the raw energy of his live performances, which had me thrashing around to the best to them despite the particularly fragile camera I was wearing around my neck that night. But all that would take forever and still wouldn’t do his performance justice.   

What I will say is that Dan Deacon was the best one-man show that I’d ever been to anywhere, and the fact that Timbre Productions let me cover it for nothing more than a spot on the guest list puts them in my good books (at least, until they do something tasteless like promote an Avenged Sevenfold tour). But I’m still not sure how to define Dan Deacon, and ‘future shock’ has always seemed like a bogus genre to me. I prefer his own description, ‘absurdist electronica’.   

I still find myself chanting “Harry Potter! Book 6! Smoke Weed! Every Day!” on the bus to class so clearly, the show's stayed with me. After the show, I got to shake his hand and get a photo with him. He's a great guy. Reminds me a little of Jason Lee.

(Photo by Tom Whalen.)

Dan Deacon finished his main set with "Silence Like the Wind Overtakes Me" before delivering "Wham City" as an encore. I had a great time and can honestly say that my experience that night has opened me up to a whole new world of musical possibilities. 

Dan Deacon w/ Ultimate Reality and Montag @ Richard's on Richards! - a photoset on Flickr

Thank you, Mr Deacon. I'd eat a cloud of cream with you any day.

LIVE WIRE: Teen angst in 350 words or less.

Every Friday, indie scenester kids pack Richard’s on Richards and party away at ½ Alive, a “hands up sing along dance party” where DJs spin club edits while drinking, dancing and dancing while drunk. But this particular Friday, Parisian pop-electro-rock group The Teenagers were in town. And judging by how Dick’s on Dicks was packed wall to wall, it seems Vancouver got the memo.

What sets The Teenagers apart from other scenester bands is their apparent lack of conventional musical talent – not that that’s a bad thing. In fact, this same basement-mixed indie aesthetic jettisoned many other unconventionally talented musicians like Kimya Dawson to stardom. To elaborate, vocalist Quentin Delafon does not have an especially dynamic vocal range, and the band’s sound is much too treble-heavy to make the most out of Michael Szpiner’s simple, yet addictive, bass loops. Guitarist Dorian Dumont’s riff-work and melodic plucking also escalates the band’s overall sound to something more mature than standard three-chord song progressions, but as a whole, the band comes off sounding like a sloppier New Young Pony Club. However, the French rockers still make the most of a shaky grasp on English and turn singles like “Homecoming” into obscenity-laced adolescent anthems with lines like ‘I fucked my American cunt / I loved my English romance’.

Taking the stage with all the nonchalance of actual teenagers, the band hit the familiar opening chords of “Starlett Johansson” as Delafon eased into a rhythmic spoken word groove. After their opening number though, the performance lulled into an unremarkable six-song somnambulance before picking up again with MySpace singles “Fuck Nicole” and “Homecoming”. Delafon thrashed his arms about onstage, looking like a cross between a young Morrissey and a self-portrait of Egon Schiele, while the crowd sang and swore loudly along. But with the obvious highlights of the show over, the new rave power ballad “End of the Road” failed to deliver an appropriately punchy finale.

The Teenagers have plenty of potential. But if their show at Richard’s on Richards was any indication, their live shows need to do some growing up.

Special thanks to Brock Thiessen and Discorder for getting me in the door and Melanie Copple for looking out for the little guy. This review also runs in next month's issue of Discorder so be sure to pick up a print copy of that badass rag as well. 'Cuz when one of my future photos runs on the cover of Rolling Stone, you're going to want to be able to say you knew that silly bitch Ben when he was just starting out and you've got the issues to prove it. Deal?

Deal.