Danielson with Cryptacize @ the 941 Theater in Philadelphia
Danielson with Cryptacize @ the 941 Theater in Philadelphia by Lauren F. Friedman
I wanted to like Danielson, I really did. But I may have liked them more with earplugs.
In certain circles, their Dada Christian art rock -- which they've been churning out for almost fifteen years -- is legendary. They are (for the most part) a family band; they wear fun costumes; their frontman, Daniel Smith, could not be more genuine; and over the course of their recent set at the 941 Theater, they enlisted the audience for a total of three clap-alongs (Smith before the second: "It's another clap-along! Not interested? Let's do it anyway!").
So what's not to like? For their ardent fans, probably nothing. But for the casual concertgoer, their sometimes abrasive sound can take some getting used to.
Before Danielson took the stage, they had three strong openers in Dan Zimmerman (a gravel-voiced folk rocker faced with a half-empty room), Ortolan (chatty sisters who share with Danielson a love of Jesus), and Cryptacize (excellent musicians playing layered, ethereal compositions). The professionalism of all the opening bands managed to transcend the unfortunate friend's-basement ambience of the 941 Theater, and fans leaning against walls strewn with cotton (leftover from Halloween?) hardly seemed to mind.
Danielson -- joined by Cryptacize for the entirety of their set -- clamored onto the small stage dressed in bright blue military uniforms, with multi-colored clovers stitched onto the sleeves and their signature name patches on front. They kicked things off with "Good News for the Pus Pickers," pumping up the packed room with the song's shrieking verses, catchy choruses, and gut-rattling bass -- none of which looked effortless, as Daniel Smith constantly pinched his eyes shut and threw back his head, as if every note was a struggle.
Danielson's fans are known for being devoted, almost worshipful, and this show was no exception. Over the course of the set, concertgoers -- who ranged in age from infancy to middle-aged -- crept closer to the stage, almost imperceptibly, their faces all wide smiles and enraptured eyes. The band seemed to hit their stride with the ska-twinged "Rubbernecker," when one teenaged fan -- inexplicably sporting a cardboard beak -- shouted, "Everybody should be dancing!" A few people on the sidelines bounced along with the song, and -- slowly but surely -- the beak-girl got her wish, and dancing radiated like a contagion throughout the room.
While Danielson were not big talkers compared to Ortolan, at one point, a gleeful Smith announced, "John Fluevog made us these shoes!", explaining: "I told him, if you make us shoes, I'll write you a song about feet." That song, "Flip Flop Flim Flam," is one of the band's most playful and dance-inducing, with a steady beat and nonsense lines like "Flip flop flim flam / Fluevog toe jam!".
Ultimately, the Danielson show was a case study in the truly symbiotic relationship some bands have with their audiences. Danielson is by no means easy on the ears, and the poor sound in the venue didn't help their case, but fans who came hoping for an experience churchlike in its intensity and warmth did not go home disappointed.
The audience was totally behind the band (Smith before the third clapalong: "Let's do a clap-along... no?" Audience: "Yeaaaaaah!"), and the band -- who ended with their crowd-pleasing single, "Did You Step on My Trumpet?" -- was all about their fans. Even the youngest fan -- Daniel's infant son -- seemed happy at the end of the show.
Needless to say, he was prepared enough to be wearing earplugs.
