Dan Deacon’s America opens with a barrage of sound that contains a centerpiece of carefully mixed bouncing clicks that returns to a full-on, face-pummeling force before giving way to the album’s most pop oriented and harmonious track, “True Thrush.” It’s one of the album’s highest points, though I’ll admit that it may not mean much, since I almost always favor a pop track over instrumentally oriented electronica, no matter how masterful it is. And it is—the soundscapes, beats, synths, and static are flawlessly produced.
Deacon delivers a party-rock anthem in “Lots” and balances on rock solid, but less wowing mid-album tracks “Prettyboy” and “Crash Jam,” a smoother arrangement and another upbeat party song, before plunging into the last four songs, all similarly titled and themed. Each begins with the “USA” followed by a number and a phrase or word.
It is here that America, the album, shows very different sides of Deacon, who has collaborated with several orchestras and classical music organizations lately. Though the final four songs do contain flashes of the same Deacon present in the album’s first half, they also make use of soaring instrumentation and plenty of strings. America, simply isn’t an album that adheres to a single approach, but it’s not like Deacon doesn’t know this. Rather than be stifled by one style of musicianship, Deacon seeks to celebrate the disparate worlds of the electronic and the organic. To say they don’t belong on the same release ignores the intent of the artist. Of course, these parts belong together—that’s the point.
The final four songs lose themselves at times and at others feel right on, but they’re always brave and new. My favorite is the most orchestral, “America III: Rail,” a beautiful track that reminds me of Sufjan Stevens’ similarly aimed project Age of Adz. The “USA” series radiates hope and joy in the vibrant melodies buried beneath the layers of distortion and incessant beats. The final minute of “USA IV: Manifest” is heartrending and epic. Sustained chords arranged in major progressions swell gorgeously like some new national anthem heard by the citizens of Deacon’s America.
