BY ANNA ZALAKOSTAS

In print | April 24, 2008

This is what ultimate reality feels like: synthesized crescendos of childhood noise, pixie stick sugar highs, strangers’ sweat, rubber cheese pizza, neon clothes, exclamation marks, Saturday morning cartoon music, newly bruised knees and stepped on feet, looped distortion and birthday party dance games. Bringing kiddie overstimulation to Olde Club last Friday night, Dan Deacon and fellow Wham City collective band Videohippos gave a performance that transcended expectations and stood out as the best yet this semester.

Descending the stairs of Olde Club before Videohippos opened up the show, I barely recognized anyone in the basement — no usual crowd by the couch, no circle of people in the corner, just one single group of freshman lurking at the bottom of the staircase and a few familiar faces darting past, but mostly lots of tightly pants-ed, American Apparel-clad Haverford kids. That was the first sign that this show was going to be a bit different than the rest. The second came when I went back upstairs to see Videohippos play only to find a room full of people excitedly murmuring, impatiently waiting to see an opening band who was set up on the floor, in front of the stage, with a white sheet draped behind their set up.

Who would have guessed that those people were waiting up there with good reason? (I would have — oh wait, I did, actually). Playing for an already filled Olde Club, Videohippos pounded out electro-dance toy-like synth as technicolor videos criticizing modern-day media-saturated society were projected behind them. The combination of pop art video projections, hypnotic beats and lo-fi electronic childhood noise built up the anticipation for Dan Deacon — much more toned down than Deacon’s hyper-stimulating music, Videohippos’ songs were faint hints of what was to come.

Appropriately setting up, like Videohippos, on the ground, right in front of the stage, Dan Deacon likely gave Olde Club the greatest dance party Swarthmore has ever seen, bringing something dramatically different to the usual Olde Club indie-rock lineup. As fans rushed onto the stage and others encircled the neon-clad DJ on the ground, Deacon mixed gleeful synth distortions, rainbow noise, childhood cartoon sounds, squeaky effects and candy-coated hyperpop, making Olde Club feel like a Fisher Price keyboard was put into the microwave on high with all of the marshmallows from a box of Lucky Charms. Racing through songs both new and old while highlighting tracks from his latest album, “Spiderman of the Rings,” Deacon smoothly kept the epic crescendos and clanging, electronic beeps going through the night with little rest in between.

As if the crashing, jumping bodies, flying elbows, musical entropy and hyper, high-intensity dancing were not enough, halfway through the show, Deacon started shouting out dance game directions to the crowd. First explaining the rules and clearing a circle in the middle of the floor, Deacon called out two members of the audience to start a dance off that culminated in a flurry chaos of swarming, dancing bodies. Later, Deacon set up two parallel lines of students and had them raise their arms to make a human tunnel. He then somehow managed to get everyone in Olde Club to run through the tunnel, travel outside, around the back and ultimately make their way back inside.

Musically innovative, stimulating and engaging, fun for fans and newcomers alike, Dan Deacon’s show at Olde Club was transcendentally ultimate. All of the nerve endings in my brain and ears were buzzing and setting off sparks from being submerged in squeaky tinkering swirls and plastic bubblegum sounds as a large, balding, sweaty man in neon tinkered with buttons and volume levels immediately in front of me: sensory overload, but in the sort of way that kids go a little too crazy if you leave them alone in a candy shop. Between the dance party games, hyper rainbow-rock, DJ style performance, childhood throwback and the high-level of interaction with the crowd, Dan Deacon gave Olde Club a show that will be remembered.

« RETURN TO LIVING & ARTS

« PREV ARTICLE | NEXT ARTICLE »