A few Sundays ago, Team Spicy, otherwise known as Agents Drew, Nate, Kirsten and Dillon, managed to find their way down to the meatpacking district/eastern market in Detroit for a Dan Deacon Dance Music Extravaganza, this is the account of their journey.
Past the burnt out buildings, and across from the Islamic slaughter-house, we found 1551 Winder. This was our venue, clad in brick and grime, welcome to Scrummage University.
In through the door, Team Spicy walked. We knew this was the right place, as bright colored clothing and bearded men with 40’s in hand flooded our peripheral vision. On we trudged up the stairs, over the concrete steps with visible holes, to the fourth floor.
Two men waited in laz-e-boy chairs that had seen better days, taking money for admission. To our left there was a table of empty animal mascot heads. A few of us who are especially wary of furries shuddered. Beyond the men in laz-e-boys a technicolor hall waited. Each wall was a different color and littered with collage, knick-knacks, arabic, and references to jesus. I was home.
[Below, agent Nate, in the white and scribbly tee, can be seen soaking up the energy, as well as trying to take a surreptitious shot of himself with Dan Deacon, the man in the teal scuttling away].
Forward through the hall marched Team Spicy. We were serious. We were there to party. Accordingly, we put on our serious-ready-to-dance-and-run-amok-faces. It worked.
Inside the main room, hanging bananas and tubas and lots more color mirrored the type of people milling about. Clowns. Guys with XBOX360 headsets (is that cool now? apparently I am unaware). Girls with nasty dreads. Dudes with American Apparel Tights. It was a circus.
Benny Stoofy provided the opening music and ambience, which was nice and infectious. Following their set, impatient audience members shuffled excitedly as the blue of the projector filled a darkened room. It was time for Dan Deacon. Coupled with his already catchy glitch-pop-electronica, a fantastic psychedelic visual was added to complete the experience. In it, a master story, if you will, of Arnold Schwarzeneggar was presented — something along the lines of Conan the Barbarian goes to the future fights robots, gets pregnant, and teaches. It was ethereal.
The rest of the night progressed similarly, ending with a homeless lady screaming in my face, as I hobbled outside, still smiling in awe of the show. It was a great experience.