Dan Deacon – 'Bromst' review
High intellectualism and eccentricity often go hand in hand. Look at Einstein, or the Doc from Back to the Future. Or, indeed, Dan Deacon, a graduate in electro-acoustic composition from the New York Conservatory of Music, no less, who revels in wearing oversized specs and making records with titles like ‘Silly Hat Versus Eagle Hat’ that sound like an army of toddlers licking batteries.
At least, he did. Once, he was happy with being the nutjob making breakneck day-glo hardcore and justifying it with degree-level musical sophistication, but now Deacon has tired of being a mad scientist. He will be happy if he never hears the word “quirky” again, he says, and wants to move away from 1000bpm absurdist electronica played on 1980s computers held together with rainbow-brite gaffer tape. Hence Bromst, Deacon’s “take me seriously” plea.
It begins promisingly enough, but within two minutes Deacon appears bored of ‘sensible’ and reverts to the crazed, CAPSLOCK techno of old. Fifteen minutes on the wrong side of headache ensues, as the vocals go Smurf, drums clatter and every synth in Deacon’s reach is played simultaneously.
Thankfully, the fuzz lifts on Snookered, with slow-chiming glockenspiels and vibraphones offering a welcome counterpoint to the frenetic electronics. Beta Band-style vocals further humanise proceedings, and although it eventually descends into the same daft electro that blighted the first three tracks, there are some lovely moments of serenity.
However, by the album’s eight-minute centrepiece, Surprise Stefani, Deacon appears to have his vibe nailed. Building from looped vocals that recall ambient pioneers Stars of the Lid, the track grows into a deeply pulsating monster where Battles are covering My Bloody Valentine, with Sufjan Stevens adding extra tinkles. It’s bold, hypnotic, glorious stuff – serious, and seriously good.
From here, the record grows stronger still, with Deacon getting into bed with Fuck Buttons and Steve Reich here, making sound collages out of atonal chanting there, and mastering the balance of playful and muso everywhere. Admittedly, Baltihorse’s recourse to witless button-bashing interrupts things somewhat, but it’s a minor blip on what is by now a scintillating soundscape.
Spinal Tap’s David St Hubbins once said, “There’s a fine line between clever and stupid stupid stupid,” and Dan Deacon crosses that line more than once on Bromst. Disappointingly large sections of guile-free, everything-and-the-kitchen-sink electro remain, but on the occasions that Deacon wises up, the results are almost beautiful – and there ain’t many nutty professors who can call themselves that.
8/10
