By Bob McMahon
By Allison Babka
By Kelsey McClure
By Carolina de Busto
By Ben Westhoff and Sarah Purkrabek
By Steve Brennan
By Joseph Hess
By Allsion Babka
If you can't stand the freaky falsetto voice that permeates the entirety of the Danielson Family's body of work four albums, three produced by sludgemeister Kramer you'll friggin' hate this show. Head family member Daniel Smith squeaks at the upper range of his capacity at all times, and from a fancy-singer P.O.V., he's not very good at it.
But since when did that matter in rock & roll? Since when did pitch-perfect technique override style in the musical lexicon? It hasn't, and because of this, the Danielsons, warts and all, are one of the most inspired touring family units this side of the DeFrancos, Sylvers, Osmonds, Jacksons, Winans, Judds, Partridges and Hansons.
If you've read this section of the RFTin the past few years, you know the shtick (and the photo their publicist failed to provide the paper with an updated one): Nurses' outfits with hearts sewn on the sleeves; joyous spiritual celebration; handclaps and cheesy smiles galore; and, in a nutshell, good old-fashioned celebration. The best part? It ain't no shtick. It's truth and honesty crammed into a joyous tone, a traveling revival of feel-good energy. The family, which consists of four ladies and three gents (despite that the photo above tells a different story), dances, harmonizes and spreads the Word without proselytizing, shouting with glee and doing a Motown-style synchronized-dancing thing. In all, this will be a joy of a show. A promise: If you see the Danielson Family, you will leave happy.