Girl Talk and Dan Deacon get rowdy

My toes are still aching from last Wednesday night. The overzealous crowd of hipsters, club urchins, and fresh-outta-Frosh-week party kids that populated the sold-out show showed no mercy in their fight to claw/elbow/stomp and otherwise propel their sweaty bodies closer to Pitchfork-darling Gregg Gillis (a.k.a. Girl Talk).

The Philly-based mash up DJ responded to his frenzied followers with a lush and generous set, looping together a collection of samples so massive and eclectic that it’s difficult to distinguish whether Gillis is a genius or just ADD-addled. Either way, the crowd ate up his blend of Dance Cave tunes and spaz-attack beats with eager energy.

An impromptu dance party epitomized the evening, with throngs of concertgoers helping each other climb onto the Phoenix’s stage to thrash around the shirtless DJ and his glowing laptop. Not even the predictable security cleanup that ensued—which almost led to the performer himself being carted offstage by a confused guard—could put a bump in the buzz, which culminated in a communal sing along to a sample of ‘70s band Pilot’s cheesy tune, “Magic.”

Though shorter and less rowdy than Girl Talk’s frenetic contribution, co-headliner Dan Deacon’s set of bizarrely endearing electro- absurdism was arguably the highlight of the night. Deacon, a portly guy with thinning hair and grandpa glasses, had scenesters and cool kids alike clamoring to rub shoulders with him as his distorted vocals scraped against a mix of pulsing beats and cheerful synthesized tunes. Unfortunately, conditions in the stiflingly overcrowded concert hall foiled Deacon’s attempts at orchestrating a friendly dance-off, the initiative quickly deteriorated into neartrampling chaos causing toes to get stomped on and glasses to be flung off of poor, nearsighted faces.

Opener White Williams channeled Joy Division in a pleasant but otherwise unremarkable set, providing a mellow backdrop for initial beers and washroom runs before the crowd got too territorial.