Drew Danburry = Jason Anderson + Kevin Devine + David Dondero
The first time I saw Drew Danburry play live was beside a fire at Kilby Court. I walked into the courtyard mid-song, half the audience turned and shot me dirty looks like I was interrupting something. And in a way I was: the amicable Danburry held court like it was his living room and we were friends who stopped by. This intimate setting is the preferred venue in which to catch Danburry’s charming lo-fi songs. Geraniums vacillates between somber acoustic numbers, a bluesy mocktail-barroom piano on “American Thug,” a raucous call and response piece, and a cutesy indie-pop love song. Danburry’s songs are simple and honest, he possesses none of the vocal posturing of the asymmetrical haircutted emo-kid, the douchebaggery of the guy-who-plays-guitar-at-parties Jack Johnson triteness, nor the obnoxious twang of faux-folk. These songs are sad and speak to Danburry’s greatest strength, playing directly to you.