Daniel Knox - Night Music

"I put something in your drink ... Can you guess what it is? ... I'd rather not say ... Shhhh ... Shall I untie you now?" (Daniel Knox, 'Mrs. Roth') 

The only thing that disappointed about the magnificent third season of Twin Peaks was the absence of Daniel Knox from the Bang Bang Bar line-up.  For the uninitiated, each episode would close with a real-life artist delivering a song on the stage of the Twin Peaks roadhouse.  We had the very well-known, such as Nine Inch Nails and Eddie Vedder, but also lesser known acts such as The Chromatics and the wonderful Au Revoir Simone.  As David Lynch had met Knox when touring Inland Empire around American cinemas - Knox is the projectionist at the Music Box Theater in Chicago, and at Lynch's request performed a brooding number on the theatre's organ to accompany the director's introduction – I kind of hoped that he would get the nod and close out one of the episodes. 

The Bang Bang Bar

I was turned onto Daniel Knox by British music journalist Pete Paphides flagging up his eponymous third album, declaring it the record of the year.  In the first cold days of 2016, every other track that I listened to seemed to be 'Blue Car', a song about a childhood encounter with a mysterious driverless automobile.  Its lush and eerie keyboard chords and Knox's booming yet peculiarly vulnerable baritone began to obsess me.  The rest of the album was wonderful too, and delving into his back catalogue revealed further treasures.  With the release of his latest album Chasescene he is garnering deserved recognition from his peers.  Jarvis Cocker, adding the vocals to 'Capitol' on this album, is a ringing endorsement and Nina Nastasia's voice on 'The Poisoner' is just mesmerising. 

And so to The Slaughtered Lamb in Clerkenwell (rather than Devon masquerading as Yorkshire, werewolf fans) for his latest London appearance.  This was my second time of seeing him live and, as with a gig at The Islington a few years ago, I was transfixed.  Despite labouring with a virus – Knox's remark that everyone in London seems to have a cold at the moment was apposite – a large glass of red wine and Knox's dark and brooding masterpieces were the perfect balm.

Daniel at The Slaughtered Lamb (photograph: @AntonelloGuerrera) 

He opened with a few of my favourites.  'Ghost Song' with its spooky, banshee chorus - a great way to warm up the voice - was followed by the bouncy OCD anthem 'Don't Touch Me'.  And then the quite magnificent 'What Have They Done To You Now?' with its wise advice about keeping your pants on and refraining from dancing on tables. 
 
We then had some fantastic cuts from the new record.  What I love about Chasescene is its dark comedy coupled with a pervasive air of menace.  Images of crawlspaces and rotting meat are complemented, strangely, by lovingly crafted piano phrases, that then – putting me in mind of Angelo Badalamenti – take a gentle turn towards dissonance and darkness.  My favourite track on the new album 'Mrs. Roth' got a run out, Knox's hands sinisterly delaying the pay-off notes as he describes putting something into the drink of his first grade schoolteacher.  And then the tension is suddenly undercut on a track like 'Leftovers' where Knox declares that he's "getting tired of this music-less dance ... why don't you put your hand down my pants?" (he might well be obsessed by pants).  However, when a phone bleeped for the second time - the first time, he angrily arched one eyebrow – the unseen culprit was torn into with some very choice Chicagoan terms, and the air of menace was back.  The audience clapped and laughed uneasily – aptly Lynchian, I thought. 

Daniel Knox's new album, Chasescene

The sense of precarious romance soon returned though, and 'Lovescene', a song that I hadn't registered before crept slyly up on me.  "And suddenly I find myself dancing ... Oh, how I hate dancing!"  Me too, Daniel, as I swayed from side to side, and a rush of melancholy passed over me.  A swift two-tune encore that included the closer from Chasescene, 'Me and My Wife' – a non-linear song about memories that seems to be haunting my day (I've listened to it twice on the way into work today), and we were done.  Wonderful stuff!  

I rushed out into the cold January evening and as the waning moon crept behind a cloud, I was left regretting the absence of headphones so I could indulge further (always a sign of a great gig when the first thing you want to listen to is the artist you've just been to see).  Indeed, there's something very nocturnal about Knox's music, fabulous night-bus fodder that makes you want to delay the journey home.  Or, rather, as Daniel suggests in 'Man Is An Animal', don't actually go home at all!