Eternal Gratitude

The statement is as follows: “Please do not buy our album.
It’s not for sale. We are not merchants. We prefer a non-monetary
exchange. We want to know who you are. We would rather have a story or
a poem or a photograph or a song than a $10 bill. This is
communication.”

Deelay Ceelay are certainly not the first musical endeavor to part
with a recording for free, but few, if any, have done so with such
style and purpose. The local duo’s website (deelayceelay.com) is a both a visual
wonder and a vehicle for well-penned band propaganda. It’s also where
you can obtain their debut EP, Thank You, without prying open
your wallet to do so. There are no less-than-subtle nudges toward
PayPal donation, or an In Rainbows pay-what-you-can model; this
is music unthreatened by commerce, or as they put it, this is
communication.

“I think a lot of what we do in this band is informed by what we
didn’t like in our older bands, specifically in terms of being
merchants,” explains Chris Lael Larson. “We’d tour a bunch and get in
this dynamic where we’d play a show, get off the stage, and the first
thing that comes to mind is ‘What did we sell?’ I came to really resent
that.”

So when Deelay Ceelay debuted last year—fittingly at the TBA
Festival—they were armed with a smartly packaged CD/DVD, and no
intention to be a slave to their merchandise table. While not all bands
have the financial freedom to part with a recording without seeing a
dime in return (both Larson and Delaney Kelly are employed full time, a
rarity for artists in this economy), the duo wanted to break away from
the unseen pitchman pressure of using live shows as medium for slinging
product, and for the focus to be primarily on their art.

Less performers than components in a multi-platform presentation,
the music of Deelay Ceelay is a natural extension of the instrumental
gauntlet previously thrown down by early recordings from Hella and
Ratatat; a free-form exploration of sounds not hindered by vocal
direction or the traditional build and break of most post-rock acts.
Equal parts film and music, their live show is a wondrous,
percussion-heavy visual assault of dual live drummers, copious samples,
and an over-stimulating series of flashing video projections that
blanket the band while they perform. These visual elements feature a
vast array of swirling Day-Glo kaleidoscopes of repeating shapes and
patterns, a video companion that impeccably intertwines with the band’s
frayed electronic sound. All these elements come together seamlessly
when the band sends “Sloop John B” to the bottom of a hazy sea of
cracking electronics and live tribal drumming, in a seemingly
simplistic Beach Boys mashup that utilizes the band’s tenacious
percussion to add a new layer to the classic song.

There is no denying that Thank You is absolute in its title
and intention. It’s both a heartfelt offering to prospective fans, and
a devoted love letter to the chain of artists that have influenced the
band’s musical direction. “Having been in this music thing for a while,
there are so many people whose work has inspired or influenced us,”
Larson says. “So that became the concept of the album: ‘What do we have
to give back?'”