Dan Deacon
Bromst
(Carpark)

Dan Deacon is a maximalist—a very fun-loving maximalist. But beneath that outsize, extroverted exterior beats the heart of a serious minimalist composer. This was apparent on the Baltimore producer's debut disc, 2007's Spiderman of the Rings, but it was undercut by a predilection for risibly pitched-up vocals, choruses aimed at the nosebleed seats, concussive beats, and samples of Woody Woodpecker guffawing. The result was like somebody spiking Philip Glass's wine with ecstasy and letting him go crazy on the software programs and chintzy synths. The ensuing euphoria was practically off the scales.

On Bromst, Deacon bolsters Spiderman's electronic instrumentation with glockenspiel, player piano, vibes, marimba, live drums, wind, brass, and myriad mechanical devices (e.g., what sounds like an obnoxiously pitch-shifted alarm bell in "Red F"). The resultant dense, swarming brand of dance pop conjures a paradoxical sense of cuddly ferocity. Minimalist repetition meets Kraut-rock's motorik groove meets happy hardcore's overwhelming elation, all of which is inflated to mega-rave proportions. And, one senses, it's all for the kids, ultimately.

In opening song "Build Voice," Deacon loops a voice (presumably his) à la Steve Reich until it becomes a resonant oscillation, over which he layers distant, massed, Animal Collective–like vocals and florid keyboard flourishes. Elements accrue, rollick, generate glee. The track is a perfect illustration of how Deacon extracts accessibility from what could be construed as academic lab work. "Red F" and "Paddling Ghost" ride galloping rhythms, simple cyclical synth motifs, torrents of keyboards and drum machines, and pitched-up vocals until they coalesce into massive, blaring drones. The tracks appear to be escalating out of control, but Deacon retains a tight grip on the reins.

Relative respites from the overload occur on "Surprise Stefani," "Of the Mountains," and "Wet Wings," which reveal Deacon's interest in ceremonial music, Reich's undulating marimbas, Le Mystere des Voix Bulgares' gorgeous chorales—and possibly DMT. Still, this isn't chill-out fare. Deacon barges back into the maelstrom on the disc's last three pieces, culminating with "Get Older," a metallophone-powered track that's like a chip(munk)tune blown up into a Boredoms-like, serotonin-saturated symphony, all blustery chord clusters and fun-house-mirrored Deacon vox swirled into a vertiginous vortex. It's too much of a good thing. More, please.

Dan Deacon performs Sat April 25 at Vera Project.