Danielson, Harrison Center for the Arts, 6.11.2006

That last night's Danielson concert took place in the basement of a public arts facility ended up being very appropriate. Upstairs at the Harrison Art Center, which is actually three old buildings linked together, there is a little art community, with space for classes, exhibitions and arty get-together type things. Downstairs in the basement, however, is where the rock is kept. Or so it was last night. The proprietors have made the area into a little rock club, and while the sound left much to be desired (see: every concert ever in a basement), the atmosphere was pretty fun. It had the feel of a basement punk show, but in a cutting out animal shapes from construction paper while rocking out kind of way.

If the crowd was any indication, Danielson attracts two types of fans: the standard indie-types and the slightly younger, very possibly high school-age alterna-nerd. Now don't get me wrong, I have nothing against nerds, in fact there are large parts of my own personality that are profoundly nerdish. Okay, I was on the Academic Bowl team throughout high school. There, I said it. And while I really don't like defining bands, even slightly, by their fan bases (er, Bob Marley) because it's unfair to the bands, I think it's fitting to refer to Danielson not as a Sufjan-esque Christian rockenspiel or whatever, but as one of the shining lights of the nascent nerdcore movement, currently piloted by the Decemberists, and featuring They Might Be Giants as emeritus faculty. Like these two bands (and I know there are others), Danielson appeals to the more academically-inclined due to Daniel Smith's highly literate lyrical sensibilities (especially on Ships, easily his best work) and the band's disinclination to adhere to any prevailing trends of popular music. Where the Decemberists dabble in sea shanties and chimbley sweep laments and TMBG use commercial jingles and freshman year AP philosophy, Danielson has reclaimed the church camp strumalong (and the drama-club costumes) for the Pitchfork generation.

Back to the nerdcore kids. They're actually pretty great---weirdly enough, they exhibit many traits aligning them with the Greeks from the Band of Horses show---they tend to rock as hard as humanly possible in whatever manner they see fit, regardless of reaction, which bands have just got to love. Daniel Smith definitely did. Before playing "Did I Step On Your Trumpet (mp3)," he asked the crowd if anyone had actually done just that---stepped on a trumpet. No shit, there were like three marching band kids who had actually stepped on trumpets in the past, which kind of floored Smith, and he asked them to tell their stories for the edification of everyone present. Which they did, and everyone had a good time hearing them, because I bet a lot of other people were just too shy to regale everyone with their own trumpet-stepping story.

The song is actually about, as Smith explained, making good with people you've accidentally offended, and it's one of the best songs released this year so far. It was the fourth song played, the last of the first four songs from Ships that opened the set. They segued into "Animal in Every Corner" from 2004's Brother is to Son, which Smith mentioned was a "clapalong" (earlier, "Bloodbook on the Halfshell" was a 'snapalong'). The crowd not only clapped along, but they really enjoyed clapping along. I saw a girl look at a guy and shake her head as if she couldn't believe how much fun she was having. I didn't clap (not a big concert clapper), but I thoroughly enjoyed said clapping. But not as much as what was going on onstage. Here's a sample from Ye Olde Powere Shote of what was going on during "Cast It At the Setting Sail" that I put on Youtube. The audio's pretty rough, so turn down your speakers.

More Animals of the Arctic played before Danielson, and actually kind of blew me away. It took forever for them to start playing, mostly because leader Michael Tapscott (of Odawas) was sort of lazily getting his shit together, looking around, tuning his guitar, and making sure the sound guy knew that there was a definite need for severe amounts of reverb on everything. On stage, Tapscott exudes an engaging half-assedness that is not evident of a lack of talent or anything, but is actually quite appealing to watch. Like, for instance, during the first song, he sat down to play because his guitar didn't have a strap, and positioned the mic really low. Instead of adjusting it, he adjusted himself, craning his neck really low to make sure it was picking him up (see above). Aside from some typical sound issues, MAotA played about a half-hour of earthy prog with massive dynamic shifts, some songs dominated by Richard Wright-ian synth and others laced with harmonica. When they occasionally locked into a rhythm, it was really something, and they knew it. Check out their debut, An Appendix of Whaling Terms, on Standard Recording Co.