Br. Danielson – Brother Is To Son

There is something strikingly honest about Daniel Smith. His music is alluring by virtue of its sincerity alone. Smith’s scratching vocals and off-center melodies are indicative of a friendly mania that draws the listener into the world of Danielson, and bombards them with fast changing landscapes that are slightly askew in composition.

Brother Is To Son is released under Daniel Smith’s solo surname, Br. Danielson, and offers an unhindered glimpse into his world. The album’s liner notes are astounding in themselves, each track getting it’s own handwritten lyrical thought bubble (complete with illustrative drawing). The writing parallels the album’s sound spastically meandering through lower-case, cursive, all capitals, with the occasional drawing of a hammer or a pair of eyes.

Although Brother Is To Son does incorporate many of Daniel Smith’s Christian ideals, it does not take an overtly evangelical approach. Smith’s songs do not preach, but instead explore. They are more a glimpse into Smith’s struggle. The feeling of the album is one of a deranged positivity.

It seems that Brother Is To Son is an album born out of necessity – Daniel Smith’s mind had to pour forth these thoughts and sounds. This sentiment is fittingly displayed in the album’s opening track, “Things Against Stuff.” This song indicates a mental derision that mirrors a pervasive national condition. Smith explains in his squeaky falsetto, “There’s two kinds of fun/ Things vs. Stuff can not get along,” and then asks the question, “Which side are you on?” The song explores the triviality of materials, and in doing so calls its own content into question. The only salvation that the song offers is in Smith’s recurring image of the tree of life (which also serves as a recurring home-made onstage costume.) Smith’s Christian imagery allows salvation of the song’s fault line, and also of Smith’s concerns.

The album is very manic. It is able to switch quickly from the thumping and screeching climax of “Our Givest,” and effortlessly cool off with the ominously restrained “Sweet Sweeps.” The latter is held together by a growingly concerned pendulum rhythm that is created by the movement of a broom. Eventually the increasing tension is punctured by a female voice frankly stating, “And I swept him off his feet,” and the song takes on a more melodic tone before fading back into its lulled state. The song is a dramatic trudge through mood, and exemplary of the album’s overarching strengths.

Daniel Smith does not rely on melodic convention to form tunes, but instead allows his mind to dictate a song’s structure. The songs are free-flowing in their own spastic way. Smith is clever in his onomatopoeic moments, insane in his less-controlled moments, and endearing in his sincere moments. In the song “Hammers Sitting Still,” Smith says, “All my bubbles/ Have been bursted/ And I’m left with/ Shoulders bruised.” Despite the inevitable feelings of hopelessness between the album’s more excited moments, the album is successful in applying some sort of salve to life’s issues. Smith’s prescription may be unique and absurd, but it is still very effective.

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