Dan Deacon Bromst Rating: 8.7 Label: Carpark Records Release: March 24, 2009

A good way of thinking about the process of music-making is by comparing it to something such as painting. In most cases, both the musician and painter have a certain idea or concept in mind that they want to translate into a physical/aural form. With a solid foundation, a bit of ingenuity, a strong grasp of composition, and a distinct style they call their own, both artists can create work that appeals to an audience that has a genuine understanding and appreciation for their vision. There is no doubt that this analogy has been used before; however, the sophomore LP release from Dan Deacon, Bromst, is by no means an exception.

Bromst starts off as a blank canvas, and gradually the reverberating, repetitive loop from “Build Voice” comes within earshot, much like the beginnings of a painting where the first layer or two is applied to the surface, or when the imagery is first roughed out. Deacon introduces element after element in a steady but paced manner–from vocals to instrumentals, which are situated in a really pleasing manner, until he goes at it full-force three minutes into the track. Sonic structures of both organic (horns, pianos, shouting) and synthesized nature are carefully brushed into the song, occupying the entire space without it being too planned-out or contrived.

Like Spiderman of the Rings, Deacon maintains his rich, colorful palette of cartoon screeches and dissonant 8-bit, pixelated soundbytes on Bromst, although the occasional daubs of analog components is a breath of fresh air. Some of the tracks off of SotR (mainly “Trippy Green Skull” and “Jimmy Roche”) generate a bit of sensory overload, and are mildly suffocating to the ears (or rather, my own). While there isn’t necessarily any negative space (ie. silence) in Bromst, songs like “Snookered,” “Wet Wings,” and “Slow With Horns/Run for Your Life” capture a certain simplicity, starkness, and vulnerability. Especially with “Wet Wings,” the only thing you are experiencing is the unaccompanied vocals overlapping and scattering in and out. In this case, you are able to focus more on the individual sounds rather than hearing them jumbled into two or more layers melded into one another. It is clear that Deacon was attempting to create a polarity between the occupied and vacant space in his work, and produced something with a really beautiful and unexpected balance of the two.

But then you have tracks like “Padding Ghost,” “Woof Woof,” and “Baltihorse,” that are equivalent to something like a Pollock painting, where slabs of dribbling paint are flung with no real desired placement on the canvas. It almost seems completely chaotic and arbitrary, specifically in “Baltihorse” with its use of the xylophone underneath the synthetic cacophony. If you scrape off the surface layers, however, a certain pattern, rhythm, and system is achieved, and you find that, well…Dan Deacon really knows what the fuck he is doing. He has a really special gift for understanding how distinct sounds play off of one another (much like color theory or the use of space/light in a visual sense) and the kind of feelings or moods that they may evoke. For a sound that is entirely his own, there is no doubt that he took a lot of care in composing this meticulous yet seemingly simple record.

The dichotomy of sounds makes Bromst a bit more inviting for listeners without it being entirely accessible. And with the introduction to more organic instruments, this does not necessarily make this record more mature or sophisticated. If anything, it seems a tad easier to be more appreciative of what Dan Deacon is truly capable of. While his image is frumpy and disheveled, it really has no reflection on who he is as an extremely intelligent, talented musician. For all I know, he may well be the Mozart of contemporary music. And who knows, maybe a decade or so from now, parents will be playing for their babies “Baby Deacon” videos instead of “Baby Mozart.” Wouldn’t that be the day?

Written by: Sara Greene on March 31st, 2009 | Filed under Music Reviews