Last semester it was announced that Dan Deacon was performing at Conn.
I didn’t know much about Deacon. I’d never heard any of his music before and had no idea what his performance style would be like.
What I did have was the fervent support of Deacon from my friends, most of whom were foaming at the mouth to see him perform.
And then, all of a sudden and at the last minute, Deacon hurt his back. He couldn’t make it. The show was canceled. Luckily, Deacon expressed a desire to return second semester and perform once he was injury-free.
We didn’t realize it at the time, but this was really good news. This allowed those who were uneducated in the Deacon catalog to do some research on the electronic musician and YouTube mainstay (ever heard of “Drinking Out of Cups”? That’s him).
I soon fell in love with Deacon’s most recent album Bromst. By the time the announcement was made that Deacon was returning early second semester – injury-free and unafraid of the snowfall – I was aptly prepared. I strapped on my roller skates (yep, that was me), bought myself a ticket and earned myself a big black X on the back of my hand.
Deacon’s no rock star, as is made evident by his grizzly beard, balding head and slight gut.
Better yet, he’s an anti-rock star. He’s not pandering to the masses; he’s one of us, expressing his geekdom while stationing himself and his DJ gear on the dance floor, mere feet away from the sweaty heads of audience members.
He started off his gig with pep-rally antics, ordering his followers to count-down from ten, except that three was replaced with “New London,” two was “your favorite Ninja Turtle,” and 1 was “not your favorite Ninja Turtle but the Ninja Turtle you respect the most.”
Screams of “Donatello!” and “Raphael!” filled the space.
What’s fantastic about Deacon is that he genuinely wants his audience to have a great time. Deacon’s follow-the-leader exercise during “Of The Mountains” and never-ending game of London Bridge – stretching out of the ‘62 room through one door, snaking through the Connection and then back into the dance hall through the other door – made the night feel spontaneous and wild. The crowd was required to make a circle around the entire room for a series of events, one of which was a “sassy” dance-off against various willing (or unwilling) participants.
All of this occurred while Deacon’s neon “trippy green skull” lamp strobed vibrantly over the masses.
Deacon’s music is not for everyone. “Wet Wings,” for example, is made up almost entirely of female voices wailing the lines “The day is past and gone / The hour of death is near” and then remixed over and over into a three-minute mish-mash of delicate sadness.
Regardless of whether Deacon’s music fits your needs, the excitement and energy he puts into his work is infectious. “Woof Woof” and “Red F” are two especially energetic pieces.
After the concert was over, my legs and arms were sore from jumping and flailing, respectively, and I’d never felt more tired in my life. It was also one of the more interactive and satisfying concerts I’ve ever been a part of.
For that, I whole-heartedly thank Dan Deacon for fulfilling his promise to return to our fair campus and allow us to rave in harmony – and also for giving us the time to do our homework.
Seahorses.
Forever.
