NEW HEARTLAND ROCK
The return of hometown potential heroes Diacon-Panthers
by Nick Huinker

"When I was a kid my dad told me that if I wanted to sound like the Clash I'd have to be good first, then pretend to be bad, and I think I'm following that still." - Natan Diacon-Furtado

In some ways it's tempting to toss around the overused, undercooked "alt-country" signifier when talking about Knoxville's Diacon-Panthers, particularly considering the vibe of their inaugural shows in early 2006; between frontman Natan Diacon-Furtado's hushed, twangy acoustic songs and the band's lap steel-laden arrangements, the influences seemed clear, and the niche assured. In the ensuing two years, though, breakneck maturation has left the tag far behind, and what once came across as affected indie country has revealed itself as something quite different. The specifics are hard to nail down, but there is one good way to describe Diacon-Panthers: uniquely, undeniably Southern.

"The most popular characterization by bloggers is 'Americana punk'," shrugs guitarist Greg Given, which sends the band into a frenzy of alternative genre ideas, including "new heartland rock", "new belligerent American dream" and "that goddamn American band with the brown kid singing."

Given, his brother Jeremy and drummer Charlie Henschen had been actively playing music together for six years before the brothers aligned themselves with longtime friend Diacon-Furtado in 2005. After years of fruitless collaborations and facing changing musical tastes, the band was eager to have a songwriter to rally behind, even if the first few shows exhibited a certain reticence to intrude too much on his songs.

By late 2006, though, a bond had been established that let the material fully flower in arrangement, and latecomer Henschen's penchant for pure volume gave the band their final push into the earthy, ecstatic rock and roll they proudly call their own, presided over by Diacon-Furtado's occasionally rough, always expressive howl. Though humble about his talents as a vocalist, Diacon-Furtado admits about its relationship to the band's music that "it either makes people angry or excited, and that's where I want them to be."

The sound, the voice, and the formidable songwriting are all to be found on the band's debut long-player Make It Feel Better, engineered by Royal Bangs frontman Ryan Schaefer over the summer of 2007 and self-released at a rare show early this year. (The band spends the majority of the year at school on opposite sides of the country; Greg and Natan at Reed College in Oregon, Charlie and Jeremy at separate schools in New England.) Since then the band has secured digital distribution through Portland-based Borrowdeer Records (also home to Knoxville's Deek Hoi) as well as on their own through CDBaby and iTunes, but the search for physical distribution continues, though the band says they've sent it to "every label ever."

"We actually sent it to Bar/None at their request, but they never got back to us," says Greg, disappointed.

"Merge sent us a postcard," chimes his brother. "I still have it."

The lack of label attention is unfortunate, as Make It Feel Better is an extremely impressive debut, especially for a band whose schedule would seem to preclude the work most bands would have to put into preparing such an organic, charismatic set. Schaefer's eminently listenable "mid-fi" production captures the youthful immediacy of the songs with a handmade charm that compliments the arrangements both sonically and philosophically; that the record sounds simultaneously dense and stripped-down pays due tribute to the band's ability to suggest country, soul, and southern rock sounds without letting them interrupt the proceedings.

Fortunately, Knoxvillians who missed out on Make It Feel Better's release show will have another opportunity to pick it up in its homemade physical incarnation on May 31, when the band returns to the Pilot Light to kick off a painfully short summer vacation; the band, for one, cannot wait, insisting that their scholastic home cities (including Portland and Boston) pale in comparison to Knoxville's music community.

"I don't feel anything in Portland like the camaraderie we feel in Knoxville," insists Diacon-Furtado. Detailing their "indie"-addled scene, he pines for what he characterizes as our freedom and variety. "That's what I like about the Knoxville scene. People play what they want."

Hometown love aside, the days following the Pilot Light show will find the band on the road for two legs of a short tour, first into the Carolinas and then on up the east coast and culminating in a show at New York's fabled Knitting Factory, which the band describes in half-serious excitement as "our first show with advanced ticketing." The show, along with most of the east coast portion of the tour, came to the band in a lucky accident after Jeremy sent a random blogger ("with all sorts of alt text in his myspace name") a link to their website; he ended up liking the album so much that he and a few friends helped the band secure several big-city shows. (Oddly enough, Diacon-Panthers will be sharing the Knitting Factory's stage not only with fellow Borrowdeer act Wooden Nickle but also Knoxville's own Senryu.)

After the tour, Diacon-Panthers will once again return to the nation's northern corners, but rest assured they've got an eye on their future as a band. Asked about their plans, Diacon-Furtado offers only a cryptic promise: "Lynyrd Skynyrd riffs and club synths."




Printed in Knoxville Voice on May 29th, 2008.