Dan Deacon - America (2012)
i see your face for miles in the sky - september 25, 2025
The mind tends to fail to describe the true volume of vast things. Things that extend past the horizon and fire off into the sky, that extend past the curve of the earth, that see you as infinitesimal. Primal thoughts are formed, yes, but rarely do they filter into words that successfully convey that sheer crushing weight, that deep pit in your gut, those oceans of noise as they crash down upon you and consume you whole. Dan Deacon, a noted freak from Baltimore who emerged from the noise pop and indie of the mid 2000s, submerged himself into insane live shows until he came out the other end with a newfound ability to turn that sheer scale into sounds so massive they spill out across movements, level song structures and leave you utterly breathless. America is the first time those solid rocket boosters were truly turned on.
To spend a moment defining our terms, what is America in the context of America? America is an area of land and the nation construct that encompasses that land. These two entities have vastly different origins in both time and location, yet in the present day they seem intrinsic to each other. This forcible combination, imposed across centuries, results in a contrasting, chaotic mess of an entity that is both mind-numbingly beautiful and utterly pilfered, a genocidal, all-encompassing machine that is itself bleeding at every opportunity. It is massive, vibrant, unbearably bright, impossible to ignore and impossible to comprehend.
Dan takes this eagle-eyed view of North America’s geography and the infernal beast clamped to it and does what he does best-- blitzing the absolute shit out of it until the synthesizers catch on fire or your speakers blow out, whichever happens first. Fuzzy, burning synths and panicking drums flood river valleys and crash against mountains, receding only to let you catch the breathtaking view left in their wake (and your breath, if only for a moment). It lures you into a bit of a trap, even. The frenetic electro-indie-pop that dominates the first half almost dares you to take it as the normal state of affairs here, even as something slowly shifts in the distance.
Then the “USA” suite kicks in, and the waves that lapped at your feet now fully overtake you. Dan operates with the force of a full orchestra, taking his hurricane-force sound and magnifying it to ever further heights. It pushes ever forward, crashing into ever more of the frontier. It’s rapturous, not allowing you to escape for a moment as you’re pushed ever higher upwards. It only ends, gradually and triumphantly, after you’ve long since been obliterated.
The image of America on America is one that’s much like its reality-- vibrant, confused, fragmented, loud, and constantly attempting to smother its contradictions-- most importantly, the cardinal sin that undermines its own existence. In the first and fourth movements of “USA,” you can hear the song that Southern Cheyenne chief and advocate for peace White Antelope sang as he died in the Sand Creek massacre, loud and clear, before it gets smothered in ever more layers of instrumentation and vocals:
Nothing lives long, only the earth and the mountains...
This America, the nation, is a violent and omnipresent yet short-lived entity. It is destined to vanish long before the land it sits on. This is not close to justice for the horrors it has committed.
To define our terms once again, what is America in the context of America? It’s the realization that we can both live in a beautiful land and have to survive deep in a horrible nation. It’s realizing the latter’s merciful impermanence while coming to terms with the violence it has committed in establishing and perpetuating itself. It is massive, vibrant, unbearably bright, impossible to ignore and impossible to comprehend. And, fuck, it’s good.
what if you were right?