ray roy
Dan Deacon has endured months of touring the open road, frequent
electrocutions, and too many basement dance
riots to count. So it
was surprising when Baltimore’s premier electro-pop comic almost missed
this interview due to mere turkey-induced food poisoning. In typical
fashion, though, Deacon rose to the occasion, speaking to The
Stranger by phone from his bed, where he was convalescing and
watching The Terminator.
Are you feeling any better?
A little bit, I still feel like total shit. I ate this expired
turkey; I’m pretty sure that was it. I realized about midway through
the sandwich.
You did your first U.S. tour on Greyhound buses—this epic
tour, out on the road with no money.
Yeah, I’m slowly transitioning out of that life, but that was the
first time I was ever truly independent and relying only upon the
resources I had on me at that exact moment. I kind of fell in love with
traveling, the idea of independence, and America. I know a lot of
people are disenfranchised with what it means to be American, but it
just felt so good.
You were reading the book Our Band Could Be Your Life?
Yeah, I was reading it on that tour.
Somewhere I heard that you said you’d never listened to those bands
before. Not even Black Flag at a party?
I hadn’t really, no. I’m sure I’d heard some of their songs but
didn’t realize it was them. I think the only band that I had heard was
Butthole Surfers, but I hadn’t gotten to their chapter in the book by
the time I got on the bus.
Before you went on that tour, you were the singer in a ska band,
right?
Well, way before. That’s like saying before you went to college you
were born. I kind of don’t want to talk about that; it’s not really
relevant at all. I feel like it’s just something embarrassing that I
did in junior high that the press now loves to exploit.
I don’t want to exploit you like that, I just thought it was funny
that you had been making ska music without listening to punk, and I was
wondering if Huey Lewis and the News were an influence of yours.
[Laughs] I wish it were Huey Lewis and the News! I guess in
high school and junior high, I listened to a lot of They Might Be
Giants and Violent Femmes, and then I got into ska because I played the
trombone. It seems like when you’re in high school and you play a horn
instrument, ska music is the coolest thing in the world. Then I guess I
got into Mr. Bungle, which is like the gateway drug to nontraditional
music, and that’s when I stopped being into ska.
When you’re touring constantly, what is it like when you get
home?
It always feels nice to go back to a space that’s familiar and see
people who know you outside of the context of being a
performer—seeing friends, visiting family. I’m pretty active in
the Baltimore arts community, so it’s nice to get back to work on that,
which is kind of why I’m not touring as much these days. I can only
play on the weekends, and I’ll probably do only one or two major U.S.
tours a year. I feel like for about four or five years, I did nothing
but tour nonstop. The foundation has been laid. I’d rather just do
shows that are quality over quantity.
All of your shows are pretty nutso, but what’s been the
craziest?
There was one show I played in Chicago where the floor collapsed and
I got horribly electrocuted. I get electrocuted a lot, so that wasn’t a
big deal, but the floor collapsing was pretty scary.
The last time I saw you play, there was this whole section of the
crowd that looked like it came from a fraternity. I had never seen so
many bros at a show before, but they really get down with Deacon!
Yeah! A lot of noise-based DIY bands are really esoteric and
protective of their scene, but I think that communities would be a lot
better if more people were exposed to weird and radical culture. It’s
nice to play at a place, like a warehouse space or a loft, and have
people be like, “I didn’t even know things like this existed!” I grew
up on Long Island, which is a pretty culturally devoid place, and I
remember the first time I went to one of those places—it just
blew me away and radically changed my life.
You have a degree in electroacoustic composition. If you weren’t
touring the country, would there be any use for it?
[Laughs] I don’t know! I used to mainly write Fluxus-based,
open-structured improvisations for small and large ensembles. I’d
probably still be doing that, making no money, eating out of the
garbage, and getting food poisoning a lot more frequently.
Garbage turkey?
This turkey wasn’t from the garbage, but it’s there now. I used to
eat exclusively out of the garbage for three years and only got food
poisoning once from eating a
rotten sweet potato.
What would be your ideal job if you weren’t making music?
Doctor?
Yes, I’d be two doctors. I don’t know what I would do. I don’t
really like the idea of working for someone else. I’d like to be back
in school. The academic setting is really nice, and I’d like to learn
some new software and have available players who I could work with. I
guess I’m slowly drifting out of pop music. It sort of happened by
accident, like a phase I was going through. The next record and the
next national tour I do will be full ensemble, mallet percussion
players.
Your shows are always a big party, do you ever feel like you’re not
able to rise to the occasion?
Sometimes when I’m really sick, exhausted, or jet-lagged. But
normally as soon as I get down in the crowd and feel people in the
front are really excited, it’s really easy to feed off that energy,
which is why I like playing on the floor. You see a lot of bands going
through the motions on the stage, but it’s hard to just go through the
motions when people around you are grabbing your head, patting you on
the back, and screaming along. It really gets you pumped.
Bumbershoot has you playing at the Exhibition Hall, which is sort of
this isolated cave room, where they can put edgy, non-family-friendly
bands. Are you going to do anything controversial or
non-family-friendly?
[Laughs] I don’t know! I tend not to do anything that’s
controversial to families, because I love families.
You won’t be biting the head off a bat?
I don’t want to do that. I like bats, too. I’ll put the head back on
a bat—for a family. 