Skip to main contentChristopher Carrabba represents a breed so rare, the World Wildlife Fund should dispatch an armed tactical squad to protect him.
Nice guy, Carrabba. Comes off so open and genuine, in fact, one wonders how he navigates a city street without getting sucked into conversations with every panhandler, Moonie and hollow-eyed Krishna-bot on the block.
The scrap heap of music history is piled deep with nice guys, of course.
In the guise of Dashboard Confessional, Carrabba writes and plays music that's the nicest of the nice: emotionally naked, acoustic-guitar-driven songs about love, relationships and desire.
But the globe teems with sensitive singer-songwriters and their unpaid creditors.
What makes Carrabba unique? Success, baby. The sweet smell of success.
Meathead metal, jingo-country and braggart hip-hop dominate the pop charts, but Carrabba's carved a sizeable niche for his wide-eyed romance. Major-label sales are shrinking like Japan's economy, but Dashboard Confessional's The Places You Have Come to Fear the Most, on super-indie Vagrant, has moved more than 90,000 copies. While the Industry frets about the Demon Internet, Carrabba uses the Web to build a passionate--some might say fanatical--fan base. And as some bands whine about declining live audiences, Dashboard Confessional sells out almost every show.
All this has taken the 26-year-old ex-skatepunk from South Florida unexpected places, a recent slot on Conan O'Brien, the pages of every glossy rock rag and mass rotation on MTV included. Such a dizzy ascent might leave a lesser soul jaded, overwhelmed or plump with ego. Not our boy.
"I don't think of it as a surprise as much as I think of it as an incredible gift," Carrabba says via phone from a San Diego hotel room. "Not a gift that I have, but a gift that I receive. I think of us as the square pegs of the music world. Fortunately for us, there seem to be plenty of square pegs out there in the world, too."
See? Nice. A nice-guy-turned-rock-star, still humble.
Much recent attention focuses on Dashboard Confessional's incredible appeal to younger fans, an enthusiastic army of love-addled teens who turn most DC shows into en masse singalongs. If there's one thing that draws a faint (very faint) glimmer of defensiveness from Carrabba, it's the perception that he's an emo-rock Pied Piper, the thinking kids' Justin Timberlake.
"You look at the crowds, and not only does it tend to be about a 50-50 gender split, but the age tends to range from about 16 to the mid-30s," he says. "It's cool, because it wasn't too long ago that I was 20, wondering why I still didn't get it even though I was officially an adult. And I can also relate to people who are slightly older, who maybe do get it a little bit.
"The thing is, I don't really have a target audience--if I do, it consists of one 26-year-old guy named Chris from South Florida."
While Carrabba claims not to have a formula, clearly he's doing something that works for thousands. Can this one-man endangered species survive on the vicious cannibal planet that is the music industry? Contrary to at least one hoary piece of hardball lore, signs thus far point to yes.
Crystal Ballroom, 1332 W Burnside St., 225- 5555 ext. 8811. 8 pm Friday, March 15. $12.50 advance, $14 day of show. Tickets going fast.
"Nice guys finish last."
WWeek 2015