Since his 2007 breakthrough album, Spiderman Of The Rings, Dan Deacon has assumed numerous roles. He’s a staple of Baltimore’s Wham City art collective — and a classically-trained composer and film scorer. On stage, he’s a mad scientist tinkering with colorful electronics — and a ringleader encouraging his wild fans in absurdist dance-offs. Likewise, his music delivers both exquisite bliss and full-on beat-heavy cacophony. But no matter the setting, Deacon’s unfettered sense of humor and his masterful ear for sonic textures unify his various music sides in endlessly exciting ways.
Now, after several records written for larger ensembles, Deacon has gone solo once again with his latest, Gliss Riffer. In some ways, it’s a return to what he’s best known for: exuberant and densely-stuffed electronic dance music. And while singing has always played some part Deacon’s songs, Gliss Riffer showcases his voice more fully. You can hear that immediately in the lead single, “Feel The Lightning,” and in “Learning To Relax” — where Deacon changes the pitch or timbre of his voice to sometimes sound female — like a duet with himself. It’s a big pop-infused sound that easily got fans flailing with awkward abandon on the dance floor at Rough Trade in Williamsburg.
Channeling a happier Beach House, or perhaps an even-sadder Best Coast, the music of Alvvays presents a familiar juxtaposition: The Toronto band’s songs marry upbeat, lovely, occasionally messy surf-pop melodies with bittersweet words. Throughout Alvvays’ superb self-titled debut, Molly Rankin unfurls line after emotionally open line, painting a portrait of romantic discontent in the matters of love and relationships. In “Adult Diversion” and “Archie, Marry Me,” Rankin perfectly encapsulates the conflict between youthful restlessness and a desire to settle down.
Then, in “Party Police,” she articulates the confusion that comes with trying to decode the thoughts of someone you love: “Walking through the trees, I never really know what’s on your mind / Is it ever me, or just someone you’ve left behind?” In those moments, Alvvays reveals something more resigned and heartsick than those crisp guitars and singable choruses would have you believe.