Tag Archives: Dan Deacon

Owen Takes Off His [Final Fantasy] Shirt (Herald 4.19.10)

It’s bigger, lyrically over-the-top in a kind of William Blake and Faulkner way, and rearranges all kinds of pop and pop-orchestral tropes in cool ways that lock into solid ground after a few listens. The stuff seemed a bit scholarly and forced on the first go-round, but I’ll admit to walking around with these tunes in my head for days on end now. The full-on dissonant string and woodwind stabs (courtesy on record of the Czech Philharmonic)? The somersaulting Sondheim/Brian Wilson vocal melodies? Solid gold here. Continue reading

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Todd P’s Bizzaro World 2010 SXSW — “MtyMx”

Word hit the internets over the weekend about New York DIY booker supreme Todd P’s plans to fly right over Austin, Texas this year and go straight to Mexico to throw one huge festival of his own — MtyMx. (They actual name dealie is never really spelled out — one would assume “Mighty Mexico,” right? Or maybe “Meaty Mike’s?” “Mountainous Mix?” “Minty Mackarel?)

Announcements popped up a few days ago when the toddpnyc.com page got updated with the details and a list of usual suspect artists headed up by Dan Deacon, No Age, Fucked Up, and Acid Mothers Temple. A press release did the rounds today updating the roster to include a list of more (Andrew W.K. and Telepathe among others) and a promise of additions for the rest of the month.

Say what you want about Todd P — dude never ever booked my band 😦 — but the guy has an incredible flair for mixing completely inconvenient and incredible situations. Lightning Bolt shows in Polish social clubs, a tough-to-read and obnoxiously lo-fi website, marathon shows of ten-minute acoustic sets in the middle of the night at SXSW — it’s all part of his plan to get people way outside their comfort zones. Continue reading

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Dan Deacon at the Boston Institute of Contemporary Arts, (Boston Phoenix 6.15.09)

Last Friday night, Dan Deacon dug frantically through tangles of cables for one that might get a live signal out of the duct-taped pile of equipment in front of him. A fire truck and an ambulance, pulling up outside the windows behind him, filled the room with dueling strobes.

“If this gets shut down, I swear this place will be haunted by a ghost that lives inside my brain,” he moaned over the mic. “I know that made no sense, I don’t care. I hate this.” After a few more moments of staring at his mixer, he punched the demo button on a tiny synth; it blasted a low-bit “When the Saints Go Marching In” as he disappeared to find help. Continue reading

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