There are enough questionable aspects of Daughn Gibson’s persona to make him feel like a farce: the contrived stage name (Daughn?), the affected Elvis-meets-Crash-Test-Dummies baritone drawl, the also-affected Elvis-meets-Jack-Kerouac greaser getup, the truck-driver backstory, the faux-primitive album title Me Moan. But Gibson’s dusky trip-hop/retro country hybrid is legitimately compelling oddball music in the tradition of Stan Ridgway, Scott Walker and David Lynch.
Gibson’s handlers frame his post-apocalyptic rural radio laments as the bridge between Depeche Mode and Toby Keith. The Depeche Mode part is on-point, though Randy Travis or George Jones would be a better country corollary than the Angry American (partially because Gibson is more somber than pugnacious, partially because he sings like he’s deathly ill).
Listen to Me Moan, out this week on Sub Pop, and imagine what a Daughn Gibson concert is like. You can’t, which is why his show Wednesday with Triangle Piece and American Jobs is among the most intriguing events to grace Columbus this summer.