Five or so years ago Dan Deacon was struck square in the jaw by a rift in spacetime. Tore right through him while he walked from the kitchen to the bathroom in his house in South Astral Plane and split him into two. Two whole men even! One became the Dan Deacon we know, who got progressively more dense and arty, whose sound got more and more and more more more, culminating in last year's America, a masterpice of n-layered electronic and analog sound, spastic electro-punk shoegaze prog a thousand stories high.
The other Dan knew knew he didn't belong in this place, so he struck out to be even more Dan than Dan, stayed purer to Dan than Dan, and made a Dan Deacon record as clever and ambitious as Bromst or America, but without all of the density, without all the layering and production, making an album as basic and primitive and raw and noisy as pre-Spiderman of the Rings Deacon, making an album like modern day Dan Deacon might make if he had to create it live, with surging, clumbering analog crashers loping and looping along under atari sunspot leads, making the most fucked soaring pop you've heard in your timeline. That album was called Total Folklore. He filed it under Dan Friel to make it hard. If you like Dan Deacon, but weary of his crushing ambition, take a trip to an alternate dimension and give his quasi-extant shitshow masterpiece a whirl 4/5
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