[ORGANIC ELECTRO] When we last checked in with Portland
duo Deelay Ceelay, Chris Lael Larson and Delaney Kelly had placed third
in WW’s 2010 Best New Band poll and hit the road on a national tour with Starfucker. Shortly afterward, Deelay Ceelay disappeared.
“During that 10
months it was hard to turn down good shows,” Larson says. “And part of
me thought, ‘How many will we turn down before people stop asking?’
Whether we verbalized it or not, it was a concern: Is 10 months enough
time for a local band to be forgotten?” It’s a reasonable question:
Portland music moves fast, and the two-drummer electro outfit—with only a
four-song EP to its name until this week’s release of debut full-length Sunset Drumsets—moves awfully slowly.
There are a host of
reasons for the band’s molasses-style release schedule (day jobs, studio
indecision, life), but the real culprit is that Deelay Ceelay isn’t a
band at all. In concert, it’s a very sophisticated A/V experiment, and
Larson’s elaborate video projections—with their hand-shot, acid-trip
fractal explosions, organic patterns and DayGlo dancers—take time to
produce. “I used to spend up to three months on them,” says Larson, who
is responsible for those video duties. He has since learned to expedite
the process by removing narrative from the videos and enlisting the help
of local dancers. Still, it’s a process: “It changes every time. The
same way I wouldn’t want us to write the same song twice, I try not to
recycle any visual devices, which is hard.”
After seeing the inspiring, energetic live show, any Deelay Ceelay recording feels a touch incomplete. But Sunset Drumsets,
like its title, is an effort strong and cinematic enough to stand on
its own. Songs like the punchy, robotic “Little Whispers” and the
squealing “Slow Rain”—both uplifting and elastic tunes that add a hint
of post-rock drama to Starfucker-style live electronica—seem to contain
wordless narrative arcs all their own. The album is a moody, complete
work from a wholly DIY band still seeking its comfort level with
collaborators and deciding where to go from here (it enlisted mastering
help from busy Portlander Jeff Stuart Saltzman, which contributed to the
band’s long hiatus).
The arc of many
recent Portland electronic projects—from Guidance Counselor to YACHT—has
been their steady expansion from minimalist laptop projects to full-on
bands, and that’s something Deelay Ceelay hasn’t ruled out. “I’m
certainly open to it, but we can barely get the two of us organized to
practice,” says Larson. “And I am also tied up in the symmetry we have
onstage—if we get one bass player, we kind of have to get two bass
players. Which is completely absurd.”
If it isn’t broke,
Deelay Ceelay probably shouldn’t fix its approach to live music. While
some showgoers are uncomfortable with the majority of the duo’s sound
coming from pre-recorded tracks, the simplicity of the arrangement and
constant onstage movement are still what makes the band tick. Besides,
we wouldn’t want to lose Deelay Ceelay again. “The last few months have
been excruciating,” Larson says, adding that the band ignored label
interest in order to get its new album out as quickly as possible. “In
order to be a living, evolving thing, we have to be playing.” CASEY
JARMAN.
SEE IT: Deelay Ceelay plays Saturday, Aug. 6, at Doug Fir. 9 pm. $5, includes a copy of the new album. 21+.
